ANTI-BAEZ: THE BALLAD OF JANET GREENE

Schwarz announced his discovery to the assembled reporters (there must have been at least two) by boasting that he had "taken a leaf out of the Communist book" in recruiting a conservative folk singer to his organization. "We have decided to take advantage of this technique for our own purposes." He then added, "You'd be amazed at how much doctrine can be taught in one song." With that vaguely Soviet-sounding turn of phrase, Schwarz ceded the stage to his new musical weapon. Greene then dutifully performed one of her earliest compositions for the cause, Commie Lies ("When I was young it seemed to me, the whole world would soon be free. But Communism is on the rise and Satan has a new disguise, be careful of the Commie Lies..."). A star was born.

Greene's detour-filled odyssey from child opera prodigy to local kiddie show star to "anti-Baez" is, as you shall read, a truly remarkable one. But perhaps the most remarkable and puzzling element of the Greene story is the fact that she remains largely un-rediscovered. How is it that those tone-deaf kitsch stalwarts, The Shaggs, have achieved respectability and worldwide fame with a New Yorker profile, tribute album and rumored film, while Greene's equally fascinating career has been ignored? Is it because Frank Zappa didn't live long enough to provide the same publicity boost to Greene that he provided to the Wiggins sisters' band? Who knows?

While we would never presume to wield the same taste making power as Mr. Zappa, CONELRAD hopes that in telling Janet Greene's story a well deserved cult with Shaggs-like honors will eventually flourish. After all, who wouldn't want to hear a Radiohead version of the Greene classic Termites or alt darling Jenny Lewis essaying Poor Left Winger on a worshipful covers CD? Maybe even Joan Baez herself would contribute a track. And a Tim Burton-helmed biopic starring Reese Witherspoon as the folk singer could return the once interesting director to his former ED WOOD brilliance. With this feature, CONELRAD has done its part in sharing the gospel of Greene. Now all we can do is sit back and wait for the irony-embracing hipster exploitation machine to do the rest.

Several years later, after the Marcum family had moved out of their crowded house and into an apartment, a neighbor, Pat Burke, who was a locally prominent Irish tenor, overheard 9-year-old Janet practicing her singing. Burke was so impressed with Janet's voice that he introduced her to his vocal coach who would eventually arrange for her to study at The Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. Janet attended the Conservatory until she was 17. It was around this time that she met a handsome, fast-talking salesman by the name of David Greenroos and they were married a short time later (She used the abbreviated surname of "Greene" for her show business endeavors). Greene attributed her early nuptials to a desire to leave home: "I was not happy at home, so I jumped from the frying pan into the fire."

During the next seven years, with the exception of ongoing music lessons (voice, piano and guitar), Greene was a full-time homemaker and mother raising Greenroos' son from a previous marriage and, later, two daughters of their own, Joan and Marilyn. In an interview with CONELRAD, David Greenroos recalled that he didn't want his wife working the clubs during this period of their marriage: "Housework and raising a family was enough work," he explained.

But in 1954 Greene's old musical mentor Pat Burke convinced her to take to the stage with him. "He needed a soprano to sing duets with for his program he would do and he remembered me, so he looked me up," Janet said. It was in a small Cincinnati nightspot where the duo was performing one evening that Greene's life changed forever.

Greene's Cinderella quickly became a popular fixture on the highly rated kiddie program "The (Uncle) Al Lewis Show." The show aired weekdays starting at 8:55 A.M. on Channel 9 in Cincinnati and ran for an astounding 35 years—long enough to give a 7-year-old George Clooney his first television exposure when he appeared as a ship's captain in a brief segment. During Greene's three year tenure on the program, she shared the stage with Uncle Al and his ubiquitous accordion, his wife, Wendy Lewis (who played a character named Captain Windy) and puppeteer Larry Smith.

Smith recalled in an interview with CONELRAD that he loved working with Greene and remembered that "she used to come on set in a little carriage." He laughed as he recounted another detail of his broadcast days with Greene: "I used to find lipstick on my puppets and then I realized Janet had kissed them after singing to them." Smith helpfully explained that part of Greene's on-air routine was to serenade his puppets.

Like Smith, Al Lewis, who is now retired and living with his wife on a farm outside Cincinnati, holds only the fondest memories of Greene. He offered the following statement to CONELRAD: "Our time together on the air was very short, but she was probably one of the finest singers and entertainers I've ever had. The voice was just magnificent."

Unfortunately, according to Greene, the General Manager of WCPO, Mortimer C. Watters, took an unwelcome liking to her shortly after the Lewis show "went network" and began airing on ABC on Saturdays in October of 1958. The 49-year-old Watters—who was well known around town as a "ladies man" (despite being married to one of his station's "weather girls")—put an unseemly ultimatum to his TV Cinderella: "...he told me outright that I had to sleep with him," Greene recalled, an anger still present in her voice forty-plus years hence. When Greene flatly refused the randy GM's advances and picked something up to hit him with, "Prince Charming" made a second offer: "Well if you don't like me, there are several sponsors who like you." Greene, who was still in costume, had had enough and stormed out of the station. As she was rushing out, she declared to Larry Smith with an unusual intensity: "I'll be back tomorrow." In the meantime, Watters fired her for what was later described in press accounts as an "economy measure."

The following morning (October 28, 1958) Greene and her sister, Joan Marcum, drove up Symmes Street to the station parking lot in Greene's Volkswagen Beetle. Greene stated to CONELRAD that her sole intent in returning to the station was to claim her personal belongings: "...I had my guitar there and my costumes and everything and I had paid for them. You know, they were mine."

Cincinnati detective Bernard Kersker (now retired), who was posted at the station entrance along with a "merchant" policeman (Marion Blandford) hired by Watters, recalled for CONELRAD that Greene drove around security guards stationed at the foot of the road: "We got a call on the radio that she got through, so we locked the door to the station." Kersker stated that he "was there to make it official" and added with a tone of bemusement: "The police didn't want to get involved. Everyone knew what was going on." At this point he alluded to Watters' reputation (as a lothario, not as a broadcast pioneer). When asked whether he knew of Greene's role as Cinderella before that October day, the gruff old ex-cop said "I had little kids at the time who watched 'The Uncle Al Show.' I knew who she was."

What happened next differs depending on who is telling the story. Blandford and Kersker each testified in the subsequent legal proceedings that Greene caused a loud disturbance and, in fact, wanted to be arrested. Greene denied causing a ruckus and stated further that she was a victim of being manhandled.

It was Blandford who informed the former Cinderella that she was under arrest at which point Greene stated she offered to leave peacefully, but she was informed that it was "too late." Greene was then loaded into Kersker's police cruiser. Nearly fifty years later, Kersker could not remember whether they slapped the cuffs on their famous perp. During her trial Greene choked back tears remembering the moment of her arrest: "I was sick. It was shocking to think what my children would think."

At Cincinnati's Central Police Station Greene was booked[1] on a Disorderly Conduct charge signed by Blandford. Detective Chief Henry Sandman offered Greene the opportunity to sign a notice of arrest which would have spared her from being jailed, but she refused stating: "My attorney told me not to sign anything." Greene was then placed in the Women's Place of Detention. There she remained for six hours, even refusing a bondsman's offer to post $100.00 bail for her. At one point, according to a newspaper account, Greene stated: "If Mort Watters and Al Lewis want me in jail, I'll stay here until they apologize." At 3 P.M. Greene was released on her own recognizance by Lt. Lawrence McGuerty without any apologies tendered.

On October 29th, to no one's surprise, the city's press had a field day with Greene's controversial arrest:

Greene arrived in the courtroom of Judge William J. Keating (brother of Savings and Loan scandal figure Charles H. Keating and himself a future U.S. congressman) in a black knit jersey and red and white plaid skirt. She sat next to her husband and, according to one account, "quietly twisted her hands" as opening statements were delivered. Greene's avuncular lead attorney, Harry Abrams, hinted at his bold strategy when he told the jury of six men and six women that "There was some feeling between Mort Watters and this little girl and it didn't have anything to do with business."

Abrams' direct approach reappeared when he cross-examined Watters later that day. "Now there was some feeling between you and Janet Greenroos?" Watters responded "No" and Assistant Prosecutor Ralph E. Cors objected to this line of questioning. But Abrams stated he had not finished his question and resumed: "There's been some personal feeling between you and Janet Greenroos extending for some time?" Watters again responded "No." Cors objected to the defense's "effort to put in an under-hand curve of an issue that doesn't exist." Cors later stated that he intended to prevent the defense from suggesting that Watters had attempted to become "amorous" with Greene. At Cors' request the judge sent the jury out of the courtroom and a mistrial was then requested and granted.

On January 27, 1959 a new trial began that featured a jury field trip to Greene's dressing room at WCPO where her Cinderella costumes still hung on clothes hangers. A picture of the jurors (eight women and four men) gawking at Greene's wardrobe was splashed across the pages of the Cincinnati Enquirer the following day. Watters did not testify during the re-trial, but Greene did decide to take the stand.

Choking back tears, Greene rebutted the stories offered by Kersker and Blandford: "I never raised my voice. I didn't scream or holler." As for Blandford's alleged manhandling of Greene she recounted for the court: "He grabbed my arm and threw me in whip fashion I told him to stop, that he was hurting me." The dethroned star also revealed her anxiety of being taken away by the two men: "I was afraid to go with them. When I saw the (police) station I was certainly thankful. Up to that time, I didn't believe they were taking me to the station."

In their closing arguments, the opposing attorneys crystallized their versions of the dispute. Assistant Prosecutor Cors said that the station "took extra precaution for what they considered good reason to keep her (Greene) from getting into the show that morning." Defense lawyer Abrams contended that WCPO engaged the services of the police "before they knew what was going to happen" and charged that his client's arrest was the result of a "deliberate frame-up." For emphasis and sympathy, the kindly old attorney reminded the jury: "You saw her on the stand. You saw what a nice, sweet girl Janet is. Here they have a fellow waiting to provoke trouble, to affect her reputation, to discredit her."

It took the jury 2-1/2 hours of deliberations to acquit "Cinderella" on the evening of January 28, 1959. Greene heard the good news at a little after 6 P.M. The Cincinnati Post-Times reported the decision with just the right mixture of reverence and exploitation in a story headlined "Cindy Acquitted In TV Hassle": "As the jury returned to the courtroom, Mrs. Greenroos appeared to be worried. When the not guilty verdict was read, Cinderella gulped, put both hands to her eyes and her chin quivered. Then she smiled."

Greene shook hands with some of the jurors as they filed out and she was quoted by the Post-Times to have said "Well, I feel much better now." The Cincinnati Enquirer reported that "the pretty brunette" looked "tired after her three day trial," and that she said "my faith in people has been restored" before leaving the courtroom with her husband. She added, "I am going home to rest and see the children. I haven't seen them all day."

In addition to acquitting Greene, the jury made a special request to the judge to speak with Kersker. The detective, still irked after all these years, recalled the moment: "They said 'we just wanted you to know that we believed you, but we felt there was more going on than was presented in the trial.'"

Greene recalled that her rediscovery occurred in a club in Columbus: "I was singing in what they called a 'key club.' That's a place where businessmen belonged. I was commuting (from Cincinnati). I hated going there because my kids weren't there, so I'd just drive back and forth every day 'cause I couldn't stand it...Anyway, some men came in and they were agents who sold business to radio and television and one man said 'you don't belong in here, you belong on television.' He knew who I was, he knew the story and so he got this one agent to come hear me and to meet me—Dwight King was his name, really nice man. And anyway, he thought we could create our own ("Cinderella") show from the start..."

Greene and King got sponsors lined up before they even pitched the children's show to WTVN and the new incarnation of "Cinderella" quickly sold and launched in 1960. The Greene family moved to Columbus and with the exception of David Greenroos' "stage husband" meddling on her show (he was eventually banned from the station according to Greene), she recounts the period as being a "much better" experience than her WCPO days. Greene augmented her TV work by appearing in such productions as The Columbus Symphony Orchestra's presentation of "The Story of Celeste."

It was in 1964 that Greene's life would take another bizarre turn—to the extreme right. What caused this radical departure for the suburban housewife, mother and television personality? Was it a mid-life crisis? Drugs? The Beatles? No, it was the charisma of Dr. Frederick C. Schwarz, the rabid Red Scare lecturer, who inspired Janet Greene to hang up her Cinderella costume once and for all. And it was David Greenroos' growing involvement with anti-Communist activism that was what first brought his wife into Schwarz's orbit.

Fred Schwarz was a college student in Australia in the 1930s when he became alarmed about the expansion of Communism. What concerned him most was that its atheistic tenets were an affront to his own deeply held Christian beliefs. In 1940 Schwarz was studying medicine at the University of Queensland when he had his first debate with an actual Communist. This spurred him to continue studying the subject. In the early 1950s, Schwarz, now a physician, toured America lecturing about the evils of the Godless Reds. The doctor's rhetorical gimmick was to "diagnose" Communism as a "disease" and then prescribe the recommended treatment for its "cure." In 1953 he founded the Christian Anti-Communism Crusade (CACC) in the United States and by 1955 he closed his medical practice in Sydney, Australia to become a full-time crusader. To that end, Schwarz became a touring, multimedia whirlwind. During a career that outlasted the fall of the Berlin Wall, Schwarz wrote books such as "You Can Trust the Communists (to be Communists), recorded LPs including "Communist Trickery" and "What is Communism?" He also produced THE TRUTH ABOUT COMMUNISM film series narrated by Ronald Reagan as well as the film ULTIMATE WEAPON concerning the brainwashing of American POWs in Korea that was also narrated by the future president. One of Schwarz's more peculiar beliefs was that America would come under Soviet domination by 1973. A lot of strange things happened in the United States in '73, but the gulags on Main Street never did materialize. Schwarz resisted assigning specific dates to his dire predictions thereafter.

Greene remembered the circumstances that resulted in her first exposure to the oracle from Sydney: "...I didn't want to even go to the meetings, you know, but finally he (her husband) talked me into going and he was interesting...So anyway, I thought he was an excellent speaker. In fact, he was comedic, too. He was a very colorful and interesting speaker. You know, I had never even been to high school or college, so I was taken in by that..." Schwarz, it turned out, was also impressed by Greene. This was attributable to David Greenroos's eager-to-please tactic of ensuring that the good doctor was aware of his wife's exploitable musical talents. Schwarz's admiration led to his pitch for the Greene family to relocate to Long Beach, California where CACC was based and for the husband and wife to work full time for the cause (David Greenroos' work for CACC consisted primarily of scheduling appearances for Greene).

"...he (David Greenroos) told him about me," Greene continued, "so he (Schwarz) watched the TV show and he was real impressed with it. He said their (CACC) programs lacked music, they didn't have that and he said it would help to get their message across a lot better if they had music. And I had written songs before. I had written commercials and things like that. So he offered a $500-a- week package for me and my husband. It was less than what I was making. I was making more than that. Not a lot more, by myself."

In retrospect, Greene explained the decision to uproot as having a lot to do with the opportunity to move to the West Coast ("...It was a chance for us to move to California which I had always wanted to do, so we did"). The public reasons offered for accepting Schwarz's offer were geared more for his benefit. Indeed, after Greene broke the news to her incredulous station management ("They were very surprised. They couldn't believe it."), she held a news conference that was tilted towards her new role as a soldier for Schwarz. Greene's farewell polemic must have been intriguing to all of the housewives who, with their children, had watched her portray a decidedly non-partisan Cinderella. The text of Greene's statement:

As Greene set course for her new adventure out west, WTVN replaced her show with a politically indeterminate (but probably Republican) cowboy host and cartoons.

The Greenes arrived in Long Beach at the end of 1964 and the next three years would prove to be a blur of touring, writing and recording for Janet. The crucial decision for Greene to become the right's answer to Joan Baez was her own: "Well, it was kind of my idea and Dr. Schwarz and we both talked it over and he says 'well they have Joan Baez, we don't have anybody,' you know?"

Surprisingly, Greene actually admired her liberal anti-model and went to see her in concert in the mid-sixties: "She was a wonderful artist, I thought..." In retrospect, Greene is perhaps more forgiving of Baez's politics than Schwarz would ever be: "I'm not saying she was a Communist. She was just a liberal. You know that time, the sixties, all the mostly young people were swept away by free love and all that stuff."

Once this shrewdly calculated persona was adopted, the next order of business was for Greene to begin composing a repertoire of tunes to perform during her personal appearances. When asked, Greene described her songwriting methodology thusly: "What I would do is, I would listen to his (Schwarz's) speeches from office recordings and I wrote all of these songs. I got the gist for most of them from his speeches and then I'd set them to music." This technique may strike some as a form of glorified stenography, but anyone who has ever heard a Schwarz diatribe knows that extracting a song from all that paranoid blather is a major accomplishment. The fact that Greene eventually managed to mine eight catchy tunes from Schwarz's recorded rantings is a minor miracle[3]. Besides, no one ever complained when Lennon and McCartney used the (London) Daily Mail as a source of inspiration for A Day in the Life.

Greene relied on these compositions to sell Schwarz's message. She would take her act to homes where women interested in the anti-Communist cause would gather for an evening. Greene recalled the impact her presence had on these ideological Tupperware parties: "...I sang and performed the songs and it made the meetings more festive..." She also toured the country with her growing catalog of tunes, a task that became tiring, as she recalled: "It's strange because sometimes I'd be in Detroit one night and then I'd be in Denver the next night and I'd forget where I was. Forget what city I was in, you know!"

The singer didn't always preach to the choir when she ventured out on the road, but as a testament to her talent and good nature, she almost always managed to win people over. In a 1966 newspaper interview Greene referred to such an incident that occurred at a Columbus, Ohio performance: "Some kids—beatnik types—picketed outside the hall. But they sent a note in to me saying my singing was 'the greatest.' They have nothing against me as long as I sing."

In a show that is probably as close to a conservative Woodstock as ever will be held, Greene sang the National Anthem at a Barry Goldwater rally held at Knott's Berry Farm in Buena Park, CA on May 30, 1964[4]. Sharing the stage at this remarkable event was John Wayne (the M.C.), Ronald Reagan (reciting the Pledge of Allegiance) and CONELRAD favorites The Goldwaters!

Occasionally, Greene's tour fatigue was alleviated by on-stage visits by her daughters, Joan and Marilyn. The proud mother still fondly recalls singing Barry Sadler's The Ballad of the Green Berets with her kids: "It was so cute. They were both darling girls and they still are and they were good singers, both of them..." It is truly unfortunate that due to the law abiding nature of Greene's audience, bootleg tapes of surreal moments like these are unlikely to ever be uncovered.

Greene's studio recordings of her Schwarz-inspired songs were produced by a Los Angeles musician named Del Katcher with whom Janet had been taking guitar lessons. Katcher was a minor record producer, songwriter and session guitarist who hailed from Indiana. While Katcher may not have been Phil Spector, he apparently got the job done for the right price. Greene still thinks very highly of his talents: "...he had a little studio at his home and he played fantastic guitar. My guitar was just adequate and I just got by, but he was excellent. He overdubbed other instruments and everything. He did a very good job." Katcher's memorable back-up vocals are preserved for the ages on Comrade's Lament.

The eight songs that Greene recorded in Del Katcher's home studio in 1966 were released as four 45 RPM singles on Schwarz's Chantico label and as a side of Schwarz's own box set spectacular, "What is Communism?" Schwarz referred to the recordings on this collection as "tools" that were "honed sharp."

What was the critical reaction to the unique act of Janet Greene? It was mostly non-existent, but there were a few press blurbs that are so strange that they are worth excerpting here. The odd fascination with Greene's grooming in these reviews is a reminder that the right never managed to produce rock criticism on par with Lester Bangs (or even Kurt Loder).

Following Greene's clean break from CACC, she decided to try and go back to her kiddie show roots, but this would prove to be impossible in the Los Angeles media market: "I had gone to some TV stations and tried to pitch my show that I had. But there was so much competition there. Each station would tell me that there were so many famous people wanting to get television shows..."

However, Greene liked Southern California too much to leave, so she started up her lounge act again and performed in the various clubs for the next couple of decades. Janet calculated the timeline: "Well, I guess I started not too long after I left the Crusade. The end of '67. I started singing and I just kept on working until, oh, I worked until I was in my sixties."

There is never even a trace of bitterness in Greene's voice as she discusses her long cocktail lounge circuit career. Despite the fact that she developed a chronic hoarse cough from the years of exposure to audience cigarette smoke, she remains upbeat about this period: "The first place I worked at was the Saddleback Inn in Norwalk, California. And then I worked a lot of different times at the Captain's Quarters—that's in Long Beach, not far from my house which was really nice. And, let's see, I worked at...it's not even there anymore. It used to be right across from that big airplane factory they have there—Rochelle's. I worked there quite a few times. And I worked at a place called the Corsican Room, really often, but I don't think it exists anymore, it's in Belmont Shore. And I loved that place, that was such a nice place. I could do a lot of classical songs there and they loved it."

In 1977 Janet and David divorced. Greene had met a Spanish billboard and portrait artist by the name of Jose Nieto. "He was the most wonderful artist and wonderful man. I met him where I was singing. He came in and had seen my picture in the paper. He had had a heart attack and was in the hospital and he saw my picture and it said that I sang Spanish songs and he thought 'well as soon as I get out of here, I'm gonna go see her.' So that's what happened."

Nieto's rendering of his wife savoring a bowl of soup is featured on the cover of Greene's self-released 1980 LP "Country and Spanish Flavors." This record is a collection of Janet's favorite standards with two original tracks, one of which was inspired by Ronald Reagan (I Am Only One). Coincidentally, Nieto had also been moved to paint a portrait of Reagan around this time, so the couple decided to send a copy of Greene's LP along with the painting to the soon-to-be elected first family. These curious gifts no doubt still reside somewhere deep within the catacombs of the Reagan Library.

Greene's blissful life with Nieto ended in 1984 when he died of a heart attack. She has carried on alone ever since.

Long after his association with Greene, Fred Schwarz, who is still alive but retired from the CACC[5], wrote a doorstop of an autobiography touting his efforts in the toppling of Communism. Evidently, the elderly visionary did not consider his former music director's contributions to be significant enough to rate a single mention in his bloated tome. When CONELRAD attempted to reach some of Greene's other associates from her anti-Communist days, they either did not wish to discuss her or they claimed not to remember her. To be fair, Joan Baez[6] did not wish to discuss her right wing doppelganger, either.

In the annals of show business, Janet Greene's lopsided deal with Dr. Schwarz may rank somewhere far below Robert Johnson's mythic pact with Satan at the "crossroads," but at least she became a marginal national presence as a result of her work (Johnson got everlasting fame and a Sony box set out of his deal). It is only by virtue of this limited exposure that CONELRAD came to learn of the amazing Ms. Greene. And if some superstitious blues fans insist on crediting the devil for Robert Johnson, we can certainly pause and thank Fred Schwarz for Janet Greene.

FOOTNOTES:

1. CONELRAD contacted the Cincinnati Police Department in the hopes of obtaining a copy of Janet Greene's police report and a mug shot (if one was taken), but we were told by the Public Information Officer that records of this vintage have long since been destroyed. [ BACK ]

2. Albert Grossman was the voluble folk-rock impresario and agent who managed many famous artists during the 1960s (most notably, Bob Dylan). Grossman was also responsible for the manufacturing of Peter, Paul and Mary (the nearest folk equivalent to The Monkees). He died in 1986. [ BACK ]

3. It must be noted that Greene shares credit on some of the eight songs that she wrote during this period. [ BACK ]

4. This event pre-dated Greene's official induction into the CACC. [ BACK ]

5. David Noebel assumed leadership of the CACC in 1998. The organization is now based in Manitou Springs, Colorado. [ BACK ]

6. A July 7, 2003 letter sent to Joan Baez seeking comment on Janet Greene and the genre of conservative folk music was not answered. [ BACK ]