Thanks, Joe and lamarca. I guess I'm probably the local world's authority (world's local authority?). The Newman Levy Papers are only available to read at the NYU library (a long way from Seattle, where I reside). I just finished reading his autobiography MY DOUBLE LIFE (1958, only available at used bookstores or library) and I highly recommend it -- very interesting. I mentioned a couple of choice Newman lyrics, so I'll include them here. The first scans well to the tune of STANKA RAZIN (a Russian folk song), and I have composed a tune for the second which I can send to anyone interested as a midi file.

THE THREE CHERRY SISTERS KARAMAZOV
(Newman Levy)

His name was Boris Makaloff
Alexis Gregor Mackaloff,
His neighbors called him Grisha
In their quaintly Russian style.
His life was sad but lecherous
Mid landscape bleak and treacherous
Where Nevsky Prospekt pleases
And only man is vile.

He loved his cousin Anushka
Andreiovanya Babushka,
A gloomy dipsomaniac
Called Sonia by all.
A girl of low mentality
Which, in that grim locality,
Did not impair a maiden's
Popularity at all.

With ardent love did she adore
A student known as Fyodor,
A circumstance that filled our hero
Grisha with dismay;
So when his love she threw aside
He threatened sudden suicide
(A popular diversion
In a merry Russian play).

"Alas," he muttered sourly,
"I'm growing madder hourly.
Don't spurn me, little mother,
For this unattractive guy.
I may say, without vanity,
For unalloyed insanity
You'll have a job to find a lad
As lunatic as I."

"Although," retorted Anushka
Andreiovanya Babushka,
"Your maudlin, drunken lunacy
My girlish heart has swayed,
Though Fyodor's inferior,
He's gloomier and drearier,
A prime consideration to
A simple Russian maid."

Her ancient servant, Rubinoff,
Remarked "You're hardly boob enough
To want to wed a student
So devoid of worldly goods."
Said Fyodor dejectedly,
Arriving unexpectedly,
I'm but a simple Muscovite,
But how I love the woods!

"This life is all futility
And chronic imbecility;
It's desolate and empty as
A broken samovar."
"Alas! alack!" cried Sonia,
"I've galloping pneumonia!"
And burst into a melancholy
Tune on the guitar.

"Now, by our good St. Nicholas,
This all is too ridikilous!"
Cried Grisha with asperity, and
Drew a murderous gun.
"My paranoidal tendency
Is gaining the ascendancy.
Let's kill this fellow Fyodor
In clean and playful fun."

"Alas," retorted Anushka
Andreiovanya Babushka,
"That pistol is unloaded
That you're pointing at his head."
Cried Grisha, sad and tearfully,
"The fates have tricked me fearfully.
Let's get a flask of vodka, and
Get ossified instead."

So, as this project germinates
The play abruptly terminates.
(A custom of the Russians to
Leave everything in doubt.)
Although I've seen the best of them
By Tchekoff and the rest of them
I've not the slightest notion what
The devil they're about.

The lyrics are by Newman Levy, published in Theatre Guyed, 1933, Alfred A. Knopf, NY. It can be sung to the tune of STENKA RAZIN.
^^

---

OEDIPUS REX
(Newman Levy)

List to the story of Oedipus Rex,
Poor little, misunderstood little Oedipus,
Victim of sad maladjustment of sex,
Poor little Oedipus Rex.

When Oedipus was but a babe,
(So runs the tale historical),
His doting dad betook the lad
(A custom that those ancients had)
To interview the oracle.

Because in Greece,
In Ancient Greece
They'd never start a thing or cease,
Commence a war or make a peace
Unless they asked the oracle.

The pythoness upon the throne
Said sadly and oracular,
"This lad, ha ha! will kill his pa
And after that he'll wed his ma,
A sad life, but spectacular."

When Oedipus's dad heard that,
The Theban King La‹us,
"It's up to me," he said, said he,
"To circumvent that prophecy
And find a way to free us.

"I'm off that oracle for life.
From now," he said, "all bets off.
She thinks she's slick; I know a trick
To make that Delphic dame look sick.
I'll show her where she gets off."

And so he called a servant in,
A faithful old attendant.
"I hesitate to flirt with fate,
So please," he said, "assassinate
My helpless young descendant."

The servant had a tender heart,
Considering his station.
"Although, oh, King, it's hard to bring
Myself," he said, "to do this thing,
I'll murder your relation."

Instead he took the babe away,
A puny undergrown child,
And gave him to a shepherd who
Exclaimed, "I'll take that brat from you
And rear him as my own child."

So Oedipus to man's estate
Grew up, a rustic peasant.
No thought of care intruded there,
For, of his future unaware,
His life was gay and pleasant.

One day while strolling down a road,
An unfrequented byway,
An unknown guy came driving by
Who socked our hero in the eye
And shoved him off the highway.

He straightway raised his staff and smote
The man who'd rudely kicked him,
Quite unaware that then and there
Upon that public thoroughfare
His father was his victim.

Nearby his home there dwelt a sphinx
Who filled the land with terror;
Half girl half bird who put absurd
Conundrums to the passing herd,
And ate them when in error.

When Oedipus, a puzzle fan,
Was told the tale distressing
He said, "Methinks I'll put a jinx
Upon that riddle-asking sphinx.
I'm very good at guessing."

So to the sphinx he went and said,
"I'm fit as any fiddle.
Go do your stuff. However tough
I'll solve the question quick enough
Come on! Let's hear your riddle!"

The sphinx then gave a sphinx-like leer
And murmured "Here's my query-"
Without a fuss Young Oedipus
Replied, "The answer's thus and thus.
That ought to hold you, dearie."

The monster gave a shriek and died
'Mid widespread jubilation.
"The sphinx is dead!" the people said,
"Let's make this bright young lad the head
Of this here Theban nation."

And thus he rose to royal rank,
And wed the consort regal,
But cruel fate, I hate to state,
Had made the lad his mother's mate,
A marriage quite illegal.

Now came a dire and dreadful plague
With devastating quickness,
And all in Thebes, both Greeks and Heebs,
Were smitten with the Heebie-jeebs,
A most appalling sickness.

The oracle exclaimed, "Ha, ha!
I'm sorry for to scold you,
This plague is sent for punishment.
You're harboring a guilty gent.
Don't say I never told you."

And so at last the truth's revealed.
The luckless monarch cries out,
"Though Doctor Freud be overjoyed
I must confess I'm quite annoyed."
With that he puts his eyes out.

Thus ends the story of Oedipus Rex,
Poor little, misunderstood little Oedipus,
Victim of sad maladjustment of sex,
Poor little Oedipus Rex.

The lyrics are by Newman Levy, published in Theatre Guyed, 1933, Alfred A. Knopf, NY. ^^