Lee Morse

Biography

Lee Morse was born Lena Corinne Taylor on November 30, 1897 and spent her early years in the small town of Kooskia, Idaho. The daughter of a pastor and one of only two girls among a brood of musical boys (some estimates place the number as high as 11), young Lena grew up amidst a family of performers. Her younger brother, Glen Taylor, held a seat in the US Senate in 1948 and ran unsuccessfully for the Vice-Presidency with Henry Wallace in 1948. Remembered as the "Singing Senator," Glen Taylor had enjoyed a career in show business from the tender age of 15. Even as he was taking his first steps as a performer, sister Lena was making a name for herself as a Vaudeville performer Lena Taylor married local sweetheart Elmer Morse in 1915, and together they had a son, Jack, in about 1916. When Lena seized the opportunity for a career in the Vaudeville of the West Coast, she left Kooskia, and Elmer, behind for good. Brother Glen once observed "she left home when we were barefoot and had the best suite in a Portland hotel when I saw her again." With a new name and a voice like no other, Lee Morse never looked back. Elmer Morse, the man who had created a home for Lena complete with furnishings he'd built himself, sought a divorce on the grounds of desertion and abandonment in 1925. Lena kept custody of son Jack. Elmer died of Scarlet Fever in Spokane at the young age of 35. Lee got her start with musical comedy producer Will King, who signed her in 1920. A year later, she was working in musical revues under Kolb and Dill. In 1922, she joined the Pantages circuit with a 15-minute act titled "Do You Remember One Small Girl a Whole Quartet." Reviewers exclaimed over Lee's incredible vocal range, observing "she sings a baritone 'Silver Moon,' then swings into a bass with 'Asleep in the Deep' and finishes in a soprano with 'Just a Song of Twilight.'." Indeed, during the early years of her career, those privy to her performances wondered aloud how such a strong, deep voice could issue from a petite singer who must have been "100 pounds soaking wet." A writer in a November 1922 "Variety" article opined "She gives the impression of a male impersonator, yodels rather sweetly, sings the 'blues' number better than the majority." Rowland Bond once theorized that Lee's well-developed lower range was the result of years of singing with her brothers and attempting to match their intonation. In 1923, Lee won a role in the touring version of the revue "Hitchy Koo." The cast included star Raymond Hitchcock, as well as Marion Green, Irene Delroy, Al Sexton, Busby Berkeley and Ruth Urban. Again, Lee's performance stole the show, prompting the observation that her voice ";equals in tone a male bass singer, yet her voice has a feminine quality, a richness and sweetness which no male voice could produce...it seems impossible that such volume, such power and such lingering sweetness could all be produced by the same vocal cords." Lee next performed in the Schubert revue "Artists and Models," which opened on Broadway on August 20, 1923. She began her recording career with a contract with the Pathe-Perfect label in 1924. During this era of acoustic recording, the power of her voice was essential to the success of her recordings. That her vocals come through with such clarity and strength on the acoustic Pathe-Perfect recordings of 1924-26 is further testament to her unique Talent. During these early years of her recording career, Lee was given the opportunity to record many of her own compositions. Some notable sides include Telling Eyes, Those Daisy Days, an Old-Fashioned Romance (rerecorded on Columbia in 1927), Blue Waltz, The Shadows on the Wall, Deep Wide Ocean Blues, A Little Love and Daddy's Girl. Pathe-Perfect gave Lee the opportunity to indulge in a level of experimentation, not only by recording her own songs, but also through the opportunity to explore the limits of her vocal abilities. Prevalent on these early recordings are her characteristic whoops and yodels. Although dismissed by some as a gimmick, these techniques added a personality to her voice and enabled her to fully demonstrate her multi-octave range. In 1927, along with other prominent artists of her era, she moved to the Columbia label. From 1927 to 1932, she was one of the label's most popular female performers, second only to Ruth Etting. Lee continued to do vaudeville and other stage work during this time, landing a role in Zeigfield's "Simple Simon" that should have made her an even bigger star. Sadly, a bender left her ill and unable to perform 24 hours before the show's Broadway debut on February 18, 1930. Minus their star, the producers asked Ruth Etting to step up in the eleventh hour to fill Lee's shoes. The show's memorable "Ten Cents a Dance" became Etting's signature song even as Lee's once promising Broadway career abruptly ended. In the mid-1920s, Lee met pianist Rob Downey. He became her accompanist on stage and companion in life. Although they lived as a couple, some have questioned over the years whether they were ever actually married. Married or not, they shared their personal and professional lives for a number of years before Downey left her for a dancer. This tragic end to their relationship left Lee devastated and ever more dependent upon alcohol, which by the 1930s had become a constant companion. Although Lee's Broadway prospects had dimmed by the 1930s, she could still be seen in a number of musical film shorts, including "A Million Me's" (Paramount, April 25, 1930), "Lee Morse in the Music Racket" (Vitaphone, June 30, 1930) and "Song Service" (Paramount, October 24, 1930). Lee had always preferred stage audiences to small clubs, once commenting "I get nervous! I can't stand it! I want to scream!" However, as the business changed in the 1930s, she found herself taking club dates when stage gigs grew scarce. In fact, in the mid-1930s, she and then-partner Downey opened a small club in Texas, which they operated until it burned down in 1939. They subsequently resettled in Rochester, New York, an area that had been kind to her over the years. After her relationship with Bob Downey ended in the late 1930s, Lee weathered a rocky period that left those closest to her worried for her health. Life improved when she met Ray Farese, whom she married in 1946. Some have said that Ray was her soul mate; indeed, they enjoyed a happy, content life together for many years. Ray helped Lee revitalize her career by getting her a Rochester-based radio show and securing local club dates. She attempted a comeback with the song "Don't Even Change a Picture on the Wall," written in the 1940s for the WWII soldiers and finally recorded in 1951. Although the song enjoyed local success, it failed to launch her to the heights she had once enjoyed. Lee passed away suddenly in 1954 while visiting a neighbor. She was only 57, with some of the happiest years of her life only having only just begun Little has been written about Lee's relationship with her son, Jack. It was apparently no secret that they did not have the close relationship that both would have liked; some have commented that Lee related to young Jack more as a peer than as a son, and he spent many of his early years away at boarding school. He was last known to be living in California, and he has since passed away. It has been said that Lee attempted to convey her love for Jack in the only way she knew how - through song. After her death, Ray Farese turned her photos and scrapbook over to Rochester-based journalist Howard Hosmer, who apparently produced a Morse career retrospective for a local station. Ray passed away before Hosmer could return Lee's mementos. Hosmer himself died in the 1960s or 1970s. He was a friend to Lee and perhaps one of her biggest fans. His writings indicate a true affection for her, and a sadness that life was not as kind to her as perhaps it should have been. Although Lee's life was far from perfect, and although she fell prey to the vice of alcohol early in her career, hardship failed to dim her star. Up until her untimely death, her voice remained strong, gutsy and distinctive, and the fire that drove her career still burned in her eyes. She was deeply loved by her friends, and admired by her fans. The great tragedy to her story is that she was not given more time to enjoy her hard-earned happiness. Although she left behind an astonishing body of work, one can't help but wonder what else she might have produced, given the opportunity In truth, a light like that which glowed inside Lee Morse can never be extinguished. One need only spin one of her records to catch a glimpse of the sly smile and envision the deceptively petite, yet certainly sassy and self-assured Lee onstage, working her magic.