The First Person to be Censored on TV was…Eddie Cantor?

Garry Berman
6 min readFeb 24, 2020

His name might not be familiar to the average Joe or Joan these days, but there were few stars in all of show business history bigger than Eddie Cantor. He could be described as a comedian who sang, or a singer who performed comedy. He wasn’t especially brilliant as either, but, as an overall entertainer with boundless energy, and an advocate for a number of charitable causes, he prided himself, as we would call it today, in being “family friendly.” And he wore his love of show business on his sleeve. Audiences adored him. So, it is that much more shocking that Cantor became the first entertainer ever to be censored on live television — and it happened in 1944!

Cantor’s career dated back to vaudeville and as a star in the Ziegfeld Follies of 1917. He was also one of the first comedians to appear on a sound film, in 1923. When he began his radio show in 1931, he became the first comedian to star in his own weekly program, which led to a number of hit films and further stage appearances. Cantor maintained a staggering popularity for decades, rivaled by only a handful of his fellow performers.

Not long after World War II began, the FCC reduced its required number of on-air hours at licensed television stations from fifteen hours per week to four. Only about a half-dozen stations in the country remained on the air (mostly with war updates and civil defense content). The manufacturing of television equipment was suspended until the end of the war in August of 1945, as the research and development of television technology and manufacturing became dedicated to the war effort, especially in disciplines such as radar and communications.

But even before the war’s official end, new TV programming slowly began to appear, and the sales of sets gradually increased. And, during this period of stalled progress among manufacturers, technicians, and program producers, it was becoming evident that television would inevitably demand an enormous amount of material to broadcast once the war was over, and the industry’s growth could resume.

Cantor with Nora Martin.

On May 25, 1944, Cantor took part in an NBC music variety broadcast, seen on the first direct hook-up between WNBT in New York, and its Philadelphia affiliate. He was scheduled to perform the song “We’re Having a Baby, My Baby and Me” from his 1941 Broadway show Banjo Eyes. The telecast was to be aired as a special feature at an event honoring Philco executive J.H. Carmine. According to Cantor, he and his singing partner Nora Martin where originally led to believe that the song selection would be fine for the broadcast. But just forty minutes before air time, NBC executives declared some of the lyrics unsuitable. The most troublesome passage was the following which wasn’t part of the actual, written lyrics, but rather spoken as a break in the song.

Girl: Thanks to you, life is bright. You’ve brought me joy beyond measure.

Boy: Don’t thank me, Quite all right. Honestly, it was a pleasure.

Girl: Just think, it’s my first one.

Boy: The next one’s on me.

When Cantor heard of NBC’s intention to delete certain parts of the lyrics, he erupted with rage, and threatened to cancel the program. With no time to rehearse another number, he and Martin performed the song on the broadcast without making any changes or deletions of their own. During the troublesome spoken exchange in the performance, however, NBC vice president in charge of programs, Clarence Manser, had Cantor’s audio cut off, and the camera focus was deliberately blurred to obscure his hand gestures and hula-like dance for comic effect.

After the broadcast, Cantor declared, “I’m blazing mad at the fellows who tell you it’s all right and then sneak around and cut you off. Of course, NBC has the right to say we don’t use the lyrics, but when little Hitlers tell you you can’t do it just as you’re going on, that’s tough.”

Manser explained that the portion of the song was censored due to “the obligation of NBC to the public to make certain that its facilities do not bring into American homes material which the audience would find objectionable.” Just what exactly was supposed to have been objectionable about the song and/or Cantor’s personal rendition remains a mystery.

Manser added that Cantor had been previously reigned-in by network censors, but the comedian claimed no recollection of any previous incident. He was also offended on a personal level by the notion that he had done or said anything in poor taste, considering the pride he took in using only clean material. “No man can be in the business for thirty-five years and do any vulgarity and last,” he said. “I’ve been at it longer than NBC or television.”

Less than a week later, Cantor and Martin repeated their duet on a Hall of Fame radio-TV simulcast, which included Al Jolson and bandleaders Paul Whiteman and Benny Goodman. NBC did not censor the song a second time, but the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, aware of the controversy, did.

Joe Besser.

Cantor and Menser had another run-in over material shortly thereafter, during rehearsals for Cantor’s regular Time to Smile radio program. With comedian Joe Besser (future member of the Three Stooges) as a guest, Menser ordered a number of Besser’s lines changed or deleted. Besser, whose “swishy” inflections had gone unchallenged on Fred Allen’s CBS program, reluctantly agreed to rehearse some last-minute changes in the script. He and Cantor deemed the replacement material inferior, but Menser ordered the new changes to be read anyway. Besser abruptly walked out, with Cantor’s backing. Cantor sang a song to fill the time on the air.

At least Cantor decided not to hold a grudge with NBC forever; he agreed to become one of the original rotating hosts of the TV network’s Colgate Comedy Hour in 1950.

Ironically, in a 1952 episode of I Love Lucy, the news of Lucy Ricardo’s pregnancy prompted husband Ricky to serenade her with “We’re Having a Baby, My Baby and Me.” But while the song finally had its first uncensored televised performance, the word “pregnant” was not allowed to be said on the air at the time.

You can read about other television “firsts” (over 100 of them) in my book, For the First Time on Television, available at It’s swell.

Until next week…



Garry Berman

Pop Culture historian, Freelance Writer, Author, specializing in American comedy history in films, radio, and TV. Beatles and jazz enthusiast, animal lover.