Irving Berlin, whose real name is Ignatz or Isadore Baline, is one of the most successful of these Jewish song controllers. He was born in Russia and early became a singer and entertainer. With the rise of “ragtime,” which was the predecessor of “jazz,” he found a new field for his nimble talents, and his first big success was “Alexander’s ragtime Band”—a popular piece which by comparison with what has followed it, is a blushing, modest thing. It was worth noting, in view of the organized eagerness of the Jew to make an alliance with the Negro, that it was Jewish “jazz” that rode in upon the wave of Negro “ragtime” popularity, and eventually displaced the “ragtime.” Berlin has steadily gone the road from mere interestingness to unashamed erotic suggestion. He is the “headliner” in homes as well as in the not-too-particular music halls, but his stuff without its music sometimes savors of vile suggestion. The motif of this business can be clearly seen in the “Berlin Big Hits.” There are the so-called “vamp” songs, such as “Harem Life,” and “You Cannot Make Your Shimmy Shake on Tea.” Among the “successes” is the song entitled, “I Like It.” It is a “vamp” song which has been sung everywhere, even by myriads of children who could not appreciate the full suggestion of the words, but were hypnotized by the atmosphere which the words created when sung; and by older folks who would not under any circumstances _speak_ the words of the song, but who are victims of the modern delusion that a little flashy music covers a multitude of sins. “I Like It” deals with a girl, “Mary Green, seventeen,” whose mother reproves her for flirting with the boys. (In the writing of this paragraph it was debated whether THE DEARBORN INDEPENDENT should print what Mary replies to her mother. It was argued that printing the words might give a salutary shock to skeptical readers. It was also argued that the pages of this paper never yet had been defiled by obscenity. Mary’s words, sung broadcast through the country, are therefore not given here.) Readers should reserve comment until they search the piles of moron music rubbish in their own parlors. Readers have listened to much worse stuff than Mary’s words, but covered by Yiddish “jazz.” It takes cold type to show what a song really is. A good test for a song is to try to read it aloud. Few normal people can. “O-Hi-O,” as sung by Yiddish comedians, has a stench of its own. It may be commented on more extensively later as an example of the Yiddish practice of having three grades of the same song, to suit different degrees of degenerate appetites.