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By Kevin Fischer
Monday, Dec 24 2007, 12:01 AM
FOR THE PAST 25 DAYS, I HAVE BROUGHT YOU THE STORY OF A CHRISTMAS SONG OR CAROL. THIS IS THE FINAL SEGMENT. TO SEE ALL 25, CLICK ON "THE MUSIC OF CHRISTMAS" UNDER THE "TAGS" SECTION TO THE RIGHT OF THIS PAGE. I SINCERELY HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED READING AS MUCH AS I HAVE ENJOYED BLOGGING ABOUT THIS GREAT MUSIC. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
It is the greatest Christmas carol of them all.
Christmas historian Bill Egan, a retired Navy photojournalist and resident of Flagler Beach, Florida, is a staff writer for Year 'Round Christmas Magazine and provides Christmas research for Charles Osgood of "The Osgood File" on the CBS Radio Network. Gabriele Wolf of ANTO Media Relations says that Bill Egan is the foremost "Silent Night" scholar in the U.S. and the Daytona Beach News-Journal says that he is one of the world's leading experts on the origins of this carol.
Egan wrote this piece, “The Song Heard ‘Round the World.”
(189) years ago the carol "Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht" was heard for the first time in a village church in Oberndorf, Austria. The congregation at that Midnight Mass in St. Nicholas Church listened as the voices of the assistant pastor, Fr. Joseph Mohr, and the choir director, Franz Xaver Gruber, rang through the church to the accompaniment of Fr. Mohr's guitar. On each of the six verses, the choir repeated the last two lines in four-part harmony.
On that Christmas Eve, a song was born that would wing its way into the hearts of people throughout the world. Now translated into hundreds of languages, it is sung by untold millions every December from small chapels in the Andes to great cathedrals in Antwerp and Rome.
Today books, films and Internet sites are filled with fanciful tales purporting to tell the history of "Silent Night." Some tell of mice eating the bellows of the organ creating the necessity for a hymn to be accompanied by a guitar. Others claim that Joseph Mohr was forced to write the words to a new carol in haste since the organ would not play. A recent film, created for Austrian television places Oberndorf in the Alps and includes evil railroad barons and a double-dealing priest, while a recent book by a German author places a zither in the hands of Franz Gruber and connects Joseph Mohr with a tragic fire engulfing the city of Salzburg. You can read claims that "Silent Night" was sung on Christmas Eve in 1818 and then forgotten by its creators. Of course, the latter are easily discounted by manuscript arrangements of the carol by both Mohr and Gruber which were produced at various times between 1820 and 1855.
In this age of tabloid journalism, it's not surprising that some feel it necessary to invent frivolous anecdotes and create fables for a story that is quite beautiful in its simplicity.
The German words for the original six stanzas of the carol we know as "Silent Night" were written by Joseph Mohr in 1816, when he was a young priest assigned to a pilgrimage church in Mariapfarr, Austria. His grandfather lived nearby, and it is easy to imagine that he could have come up with the words while walking thorough the countryside on a visit to his elderly relative. The fact is, we have no idea if any particular event inspired Joseph Mohr to pen his poetic version of the birth of the Christchild. The world is fortunate, however, that he didn't leave it behind when he was transferred to Oberndorf the following year (1817).
On December 24, 1818 Joseph Mohr journeyed to the home of musician-schoolteacher Franz Gruber who lived in an apartment over the schoolhouse in nearby Arnsdorf. He showed his friend the poem and asked him to add a melody and guitar accompaniment so that it could be sung at Midnight Mass. His reason for wanting the new carol is unknown. Some speculate that the organ would not work; others feel that the assistant pastor, who dearly loved guitar music, merely wanted a new carol for Christmas.
Later that evening, as the two men, backed by the choir, stood in front of the main altar in St. Nicholas Church and sang "Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht!" for the first time, they could hardly imagine the impact their composition would have on the world.
Karl Mauracher, a master organ builder and repairman from the Ziller Valley, traveled to Oberndorf to work on the organ, several times in subsequent years. While doing his work in St. Nicholas, he obtained a copy of the composition and took it home with him. Thus, the simple carol, began its journey around the world as a "Tyrolean Folk Song."
Two traveling families of folk singers from the Ziller Valley, similar to the Trapp Family Singers of "The Sound of Music" fame, incorporated the song into their repertoire. According to the Leipziger Tageblatt, the Strassers sang the song in a concert in Leipzig in December 1832. It was during this period, several musical notes were changed, and the carol evolved into the melody we know today. On another occasion, according to an historical plaque, the Rainer Family sang the Christmas carol before an audience which included Emperor Franz I and Tsar Alexander I. In the year 1839, the Rainers performed "Stille Nacht" for the first time in America, at the Alexander Hamilton Monument outside Trinity Church in New York City.
Joseph Bletzacher, the Court Opera singer from Hannover, reported that by the 1840s, the carol was already well known in Lower Saxony. "In Berlin," he says, "the Royal Cathedral Choir popularized it especially. It became in fact the favorite Christmas carol of the artistically appreciative King Frederick William IV of Prussia, who used to have the Cathedral Choir sing it for him during the Christmas season each year."
By the time the song had become famous throughout Europe, the Joseph Mohr had died and the composer was unknown. Although Franz Gruber wrote to music authorities in Berlin stating that he was the composer, the melody had been assumed to be the work of Haydn, Mozart or Beethoven at various times and these thoughts persisted even into the twentieth century. The controversy was put to rest four years ago when a long-lost arrangement of "Stille Nacht" in the hand of Joseph Mohr was authenticated. In the upper right hand corner of the arrangement, Mohr wrote, "Melodie von Fr. Xav. Gruber."
During his lifetime, Franz Xaver Gruber produced a number of orchestral arrangements of his composition. The original guitar arrangement is missing, but five other Gruber manuscripts of the carol exist. The manuscript by Joseph Mohr (ca. 1820) is for guitar accompaniment and is probably the closest to the arrangement and melody sung at Midnight Mass in 1818.
Later in his life, the Gruber family moved to Hallein, now the site of the Franz Xaver Gruber Museum. It contains several furnished rooms in his former home along with outstanding exhibits dealing with the history of "Silent Night," including Joseph Mohr's guitar. Gruber's grave is outside the home and is decorated with a Christmas tree in December.
Fr. Joseph Mohr's final resting place is a tiny Alpine ski resort, Wagrain. He was born into poverty in Salzburg in 1792 and died penniless in Wagrain in 1848, where he had been assigned as pastor of the church. He had donated all his earnings to be used for eldercare and the education of the children in the area. His memorial from the townspeople is the Joseph Mohr School located a dozen yards from his grave. The overseer of St. Johann's, in a report to the bishop, described Mohr as "a reliable friend of mankind, toward the poor, a gentle, helping father."
In 1998 it was discovered that Joseph Mohr was not born in the building once thought to be his birthplace at 9 Steingasse in Salzburg. Research into the census records indicates that Mohr and his mother resided at 31 Steingasse. At the same time the Governor of Salzburg, Franz Schausberger, announced a new initiative to promote the cultural sites related to the carol and its composers. It seems that Austria has finally realized that their national treasure has a very special significance outside its birth nation and has become "The Song Heard 'Round The World."
Perhaps this is part of the miracle of "Silent Night." The words flowed from the imagination of a modest curate. The music was composed by a musician who was not known outside his village. There was no celebrity to sing at its world premiere. Yet its powerful message of heavenly peace has crossed all borders and language barriers, conquering the hearts of people everywhere.
Here’s Perry Como and the conclusion of his 1976 Christmas Show in Austria.
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By Kevin Fischer
Sunday, Dec 23 2007, 05:00 AM
EVERY DAY FROM NOVEMBER 30-DECEMBER 24, I AM HIGHLIGHTING A CHRISTMAS SONG AND THE STORY BEHIND IT. PLEASE ENJOY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
It’s the biggest and the best.
Doug Gamble, a former writer for Bob Hope, as well as for former presidents Reagan and Bush 41 wrote this for National Review Online on December 22, 2005:
Despite its fifth-place standing on ASCAP's list of most-performed seasonal songs over the last five years, "White Christmas" is the chairman of the board of Christmas songs. It is the most-recorded song in history, with Crosby's version alone selling 31 million copies. It has been recorded by everyone from Frank Sinatra and Doris Day to Elvis Presley and Kiss.
"White Christmas" held the record as the top-selling song of all time from its release in 1942 until it was eclipsed by Elton John's horrid song about Princess Diana following her 1997 death, "Candle in the Wind." Not even original, the song was a derivative of one he had written about Marilyn Monroe.
Five years after "White Christmas" was first recorded, Crosby went back in the studio to do it again, because the master version was worn out after millions of reproductions. It is the 1947 version we are mostly familiar with, with Crosby's voice sounding slightly deeper than when he first recorded it.
While some uncertainty surrounds the origins of "White Christmas," many music historians believe Irving Berlin wrote it during the 1937 Christmas period when staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel. He was making a movie at the time, and was homesick for his family, New York, and its seasonal snow. After it was written, the song sat in a drawer for five years.
But if "White Christmas" has done much to fuel the enjoyment of Christmas celebrants around the world, what it did for our troops overseas during World War II is inestimable. Brought to troops in the form of 78-r.p.m. records contained in "recreation kits" supplied by the military, heard on Armed Forces Radio and played on jukeboxes at PX stores and USO halls, it served as a powerful reminder of why they were fighting.
The Buffalo Courier-Express editorialized, "When Irving Berlin set people dreaming of a White Christmas he provided a forcible reminder that we are fighting for the right to dream and memories to dream about."
As expressed by author Jody Rosen in his book, White Christmas, the Story of an American song, "'White Christmas' never mentioned the war, yet it was a potent wartime anthem, inciting patriotism in its most primal form: homesickness." He adds, "With its mystical vision of the home to which they longed to return, 'White Christmas' was, for many American soldiers, a 'why we fight' anthem that was true to life." It was more popular with troops than, "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," and other fighting songs.
Little known is the fact it was actually the unprecedented demand for "White Christmas" by overseas troops in 1942 that started the song on its journey to the pinnacle of the music charts here at home. On November 21, it began an unprecedented ten-week reign atop the Hit Parade.
On overseas trips to perform at USO shows, Crosby was always asked to do his signature song, no matter the season. Rosen tells of a Crosby appearance before a paratroop unit in France where a gruff, square-jawed sergeant approached him before the show and asked if he was going to sing "White Christmas." When Crosby assured him he would, the sergeant said he would have to duck out. "I'll listen from behind the portable kitchen," he said. "It's no good for the men's morale to see their sergeant crying."
This Christmas season again sees Americans fighting overseas. I haven't come across any polls on the subject, but I have to believe that "White Christmas" and other seasonal songs mean as much to our troops now as they did to their counterparts on earlier battlefields.
The themes and words of many Christmas songs beautifully express the way of life we hold dear. Our country is blessed to have men and women who have always been willing to sacrifice to preserve it, including the sacrifice of being far away from home and hearth during what Andy Williams famously calls "The most wonderful time of the year."
In wondrous Christmas splendor, here are Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera Ellen.
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By Kevin Fischer
Saturday, Dec 22 2007, 05:00 AM
EVERY DAY FROM NOVEMBER 30-DECEMBER 24, I AM HIGHLIGHTING A CHRISTMAS SONG AND THE STORY BEHIND IT. PLEASE ENJOY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Just how amazing is Mel Torme’s contribution to Christmas?
Gary North writes on LewRockwell.com:
One of the most popular of all Christmas songs was written by one of America’s great pop singers, Mel Tormé. It begins, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. . . ." It’s called "The Christmas Song." It was written in 1945 and was turned into a seasonal classic in 1946 by Nat "King" Cole – in my book, the greatest of America’s pop singers.
That song illustrates entrepreneurship: the ability to forecast the future of supply and demand, and then buy low now and sell high later. You spot the opportunity when your competitors don’t. You can therefore buy low. You sell into rising demand at the peak of the market. I can think of no song that better illustrates the art of entrepreneurship. Here is the story of that song, as written by Tormé. It began with a trip to the home of his song-writing partner, Bob Wells.
One excessively hot afternoon, I drove out to Bob’s house in Toluca Lake for a work session. The San Fernando Valley, always at least ten degrees warmer than the rest of the town, blistered in the July sun.... I opened the front door and walked in.... I called for Bob. No answer. I walked over to the piano. A writing pad rested on the music board. Written in pencil on the open page were four lines of verse:
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack frost nipping at your nose
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
And folks dressed up like Eskimos.
When Bob finally appeared, I asked him about the little poem. He was dressed sensibly in tennis shorts and a white T-shirt, but he still looked uncomfortably warm.
"It was so hot today," he said, "I thought I’d write something to cool myself off. All I could think of was Christmas and cold weather."
I took another look at his handiwork. "You know," I said, "this just might make a song."
We sat down together at the piano, and, improbable though it may sound, "The Christmas Song" was completed about forty-five minutes later. Excitedly, we called Carlos Gastel, sped into Hollywood, played it for him, then for Johnny Burke, and then for Nat Cole, who fell in love with the tune. It took a full year for Nat to get into a studio to record it, but his record finally came out in the last fall of 1946; and the rest could be called our financial pleasure.
If you are a writer of pop songs, and you want a large, thrift-free annuity, you eventually think about writing a Christmas song. That’s what Hugh Grant’s father had done in About a Boy, and Grant had never worked a day in his life as a result. He hated the song, but he loved the royalties.
In 1945, the operational model was already there: Irving Berlin’s "White Christmas," which was written in 1940 and became an instant classic when Bing Crosby recorded it in 1942. All over the world, 1942–44, American troops listened to that song every Christmas. It reminded them of home – though not my father. He had grown up in southern California. Stationed for three years in Cairo, he hated that song. He would turn off the radio whenever he heard it after the war. For all I know, he still does.
Crosby’s version has sold over 30 million copies. Estimated total sales: 125 million copies – the biggest-selling song of all time. Not bad for a Jewish songwriter. There is nothing like the free market to encourage ecumenical celebration.
A LUCKY BREAK?
July is not the time of the year when most song writers would have sat down to write "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire." But Wells was motivated by the heat of the San Fernando Valley in an era before home air conditioning was common to write a few lines about winter’s most famous holiday season. Tormé read it, spotted the opportunity, and together they spent the most profitable 45 minutes in song-writing history.
"White Christmas" remained the most popular Christmas song for six decades. Then it faltered.
According to a 1998 press release from the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP), "White Christmas" remains the number one performed Christmas carol, and is the most recorded Christmas carol (over 500 versions in "scores of languages"). The other top five are "Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town," Mel Tormé’s "The Christmas Song," "Winter Wonderland," "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and Leroy Anderson’s "Sleigh Ride."
[Note: Calling these songs Christmas carols reveals a decided lack of cultural awareness.]
By 2003, however, "White Christmas" had slipped to the number-two position on their list of Christmas songs. The number one song was "The Christmas Song" (Mel Tormé and Robert Wells).
Think about the chain of events. Tormé walked in the door, presumably after knocking. His friend was missing. He called out his name. No answer. He wandered over to the piano. There was a writing pad with what looked like a poem written in pencil.
Wham! Why not a Christmas song? Why not, indeed?
Forty-five minutes later, stage one of their joint lifetime annuity was finished.
It is also worth considering that the title, "The Christmas Song," was still available.
They got on the phone to call around to promote it.
They called Nat Cole.
At this point, luck was fading in causational significance; personal contacts were growing. Yet even here, it was not a slam dunk. In 1945, Nat Cole was a singer and pianist with his own jazz trio. He had been recording for almost a decade. His one hit, "Straighten Up and Fly Right" (1943), was no ballad. In 1945, there was no black ballad singer singing love songs on the radio to entertain white women. It was with "The Christmas Song" that Cole made the transition to balladeer in the mind of the public. What better way to make the transition out of jazz than a Christmas song? But nobody could have guessed this in 1945. Cole recorded it in 1946.
Was this a fluke? Surely not a Jed Clampett "struck oil in mah own back yard" kind of fluke. Tormé had written his first published song in 1940. Big band leader Harry James recorded it. It made the hit parade. He was 15 at the time. By then, he had been a singer on-stage for eleven years. (You read it right.) He had been a child radio actor for seven years. He had taken up song writing at age 14.
When he wrote "The Christmas Song," he was 19. He turned 20 in September.
Just for the record, Tormé and Wells [Levinson] were Jewish. Think about that for a minute. A couple of Jewish kids sat down in July to write a Christmas song, which was recorded by a black jazz singer the next year. As a result, they all got rich.
Only in America.
Tormé never again came close to a home run. He worked as a singer, mostly of ballads, which he didn’t like. His voice was so lush that he was called "the velvet fog," which he hated, or called "the velvet frog" by his critics, which also didn’t please him. He wrote 300 songs, none of which came close to the popularity of "The Christmas Song." But, Christmas after Christmas, the royalty money rolled in. This must have consoled him. He died in 1999. The money is still rolling in, more than ever. This consoles his heirs. Although it’s been said many times, many ways:Merry Christmas to us.Was he lucky? To the extent that an enormous talent stumbles across an unpredictable opportunity and takes it, yes. To the extent that it takes enormous talent to spot the opportunity and take advantage of it, luck has nothing to do with it.I don’t believe in luck. I bundle luck together with fate and roast them both alongside those chestnuts. I do believe in opportunities that self-disciplined people stumble across as they pursue their occupations (for money) or their callings (for significance).Usually, this doesn’t happen when you’re 19.
Now fast forward to a much older Mel Torme.
From Mark Evanier at POVonline.com (Point of view online) who wrote the following in July of 1999: I want to tell you a story...
The scene is Farmer's Market — the famed tourist mecca of Los Angeles. It's located but yards from the facility they call, "CBS Television City in Hollywood"...which, of course, is not in Hollywood but at least is very close.
Farmer's Market is a quaint collection of bungalow stores, produce stalls and little stands where one can buy darn near anything edible one wishes to devour. You buy your pizza slice or sandwich or Chinese food or whatever at one of umpteen counters, then carry it on a tray to an open-air table for consumption.
During the Summer or on weekends, the place is full of families and tourists and Japanese tour groups. But this was a winter weekday, not long before Christmas, and the crowd was mostly older folks, dawdling over coffee and danish. For most of them, it's a good place to get a donut or a taco, to sit and read the paper.
For me, it's a good place to get out of the house and grab something to eat. I arrived, headed for my favorite barbecue stand and, en route, noticed that Mel Tormé was seated at one of the tables.
Mel Tormé. My favorite singer. Just sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee, munching on an English Muffin, reading The New York Times. Mel Tormé.
I had never met Mel Tormé. Alas, I still haven't and now I never will. He looked like he was engrossed in the paper that day so I didn't stop and say, "Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed all your records." I wish I had.
Instead, I continued over to the BBQ place, got myself a chicken sandwich and settled down at a table to consume it. I was about halfway through when four Christmas carolers strolled by, singing "Let It Snow," a cappella.
They were young adults with strong, fine voices and they were all clad in splendid Victorian garb. The Market had hired them (I assume) to stroll about and sing for the diners — a little touch of the holidays.
"Let It Snow" concluded not far from me to polite applause from all within earshot. I waved the leader of the chorale over and directed his attention to Mr. Tormé, seated about twenty yards from me.
"That's Mel Tormé down there. Do you know who he is?"
The singer was about 25 so it didn't horrify me that he said, "No."
I asked, "Do you know 'The Christmas Song?'"
Again, a "No."
I said, "That's the one that starts, 'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...'"
"Oh, yes," the caroler chirped. "Is that what it's called? 'The Christmas Song?'"
"That's the name," I explained. "And that man wrote it." The singer thanked me, returned to his group for a brief huddle...and then they strolled down towards Mel Tormé. I ditched the rest of my sandwich and followed, a few steps behind. As they reached their quarry, they began singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." directly to him.
A big smile formed on Mel Tormé's face — and it wasn't the only one around. Most of those sitting at nearby tables knew who he was and many seemed aware of the significance of singing that song to him. For those who didn't, there was a sudden flurry of whispers: "That's Mel Tormé...he wrote that..."
As the choir reached the last chorus or two of the song, Mel got to his feet and made a little gesture that meant, "Let me sing one chorus solo." The carolers — all still apparently unaware they were in the presence of one of the world's great singers — looked a bit uncomfortable. I'd bet at least a couple were thinking, "Oh, no...the little fat guy wants to sing."
But they stopped and the little fat guy started to sing...and, of course, out came this beautiful, melodic, perfectly-on-pitch voice. The look on the face of the singer I'd briefed was amazed at first...then properly impressed.
On Mr. Tormé's signal, they all joined in on the final lines: "Although it's been said, many times, many ways...Merry Christmas to you..." Big smiles all around.
And not just from them. I looked and at all the tables surrounding the impromptu performance, I saw huge grins of delight...which segued, as the song ended, into a huge burst of applause. The whole tune only lasted about two minutes but I doubt anyone who was there will ever forget it.
I have witnessed a number of thrilling "show business" moments — those incidents, far and few between, where all the little hairs on your epidermis snap to attention and tingle with joy. Usually, these occur on a screen or stage. I hadn't expected to experience one next to a falafel stand — but I did.
Tormé thanked the harmonizers for the serenade and one of the women said, "You really wrote that?"
He nodded. "A wonderful songwriter named Bob Wells and I wrote that...and, get this — we did it on the hottest day of the year in July. It was a way to cool down."
Then the gent I'd briefed said, "You know, you're not a bad singer." He actually said that to Mel Tormé.
Mel chuckled. He realized that these four young folks hadn't the velvet-foggiest notion who he was, above and beyond the fact that he'd worked on that classic carol. "Well," he said. "I've actually made a few records in my day..."
"Really?" the other man asked. "How many?"
Tormé smiled and said, "Ninety."
I probably own about half of them on vinyl and/or CD. For some reason, they sound better on vinyl. (My favorite was the album he made with Buddy Rich. Go ahead. Find me a better parlay of singer and drummer. I'll wait.)
Today, as I'm reading obits, I'm reminded of that moment. And I'm impressed to remember that Mel Tormé was also an accomplished author and actor. Mostly though, I'm recalling that pre-Christmas afternoon.
I love people who do something so well that you can't conceive of it being done better. Doesn't even have to be something important: Singing, dancing, plate-spinning, mooning your neighbor's cat, whatever. There is a certain beauty to doing almost anything to perfection.
No recording exists of that chorus that Mel Tormé sang for the other diners at Farmer's Market but if you never believe another word I write, trust me on this. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
BLOG BONUS
Here's the man who wrote it, performing at a benefit concert in Philadelphia in 1989. Mel Torme died June 5, 1999.
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By Kevin Fischer
Friday, Dec 21 2007, 05:00 AM
One review of this carol said it, “lacks of good musical taste, and has a total absence of the spirit of religion."
I’ll bet that reviewer of over 100 years ago didn’t keep his job very long.
From Ace Collins’ book, “"Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas":
The strange and fascinating story of "O Holy Night" began in France, yet eventually made its way around the world. This seemingly simple song, inspired by a request from a clergyman, would not only become one of the most beloved anthems of all time, it would mark a technological revolution that would forever change the way people were introduced to music.
In 1847, Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure was the commissionaire of wines in a small French town. Known more for his poetry than his church attendance, it probably shocked Placide when his parish priest asked the commissionaire to pen a poem for Christmas mass. Nevertheless, the poet was honored to share his talents with the church.
In a dusty coach traveling down a bumpy road to France's capital city, Placide Cappeau considered the priest's request. Using the gospel of Luke as his guide, Cappeau imagined witnessing the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. Thoughts of being present on the blessed night inspired him. By the time he arrived in Paris, "Cantique de Noel" had been completed.
Moved by his own work, Cappeau decided that his "Cantique de Noel" was not just a poem, but a song in need of a master musician's hand. Not musically inclined himself, the poet turned to one of his friends, Adolphe Charles Adams, for help.
The son of a well-known classical musician, Adolphe had studied in the Paris conservatoire. His talent and fame brought requests to write works for orchestras and ballets all over the world. Yet the lyrics that his friend Cappeau gave him must have challenged the composer in a fashion unlike anything he received from London, Berlin, or St. Petersburg.
As a man of Jewish ancestry, for Adolphe the words of "Cantique de Noel" represented a day he didn't celebrate and a man he did not view as the son of God. Nevertheless, Adams quickly went to work, attempting to marry an original score to Cappeau's beautiful words. Adams' finished work pleased both poet and priest. The song was performed just three weeks later at a Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve
Initially, "Cantique de Noel" was wholeheartedly accepted by the church in France and the song quickly found its way into various Catholic Christmas services. But when Placide Cappeau walked away from the church and became a part of the socialist movement, and church leaders discovered that Adolphe Adams was a Jew, the song--which had quickly grown to be one of the most beloved Christmas songs in France--was suddenly and uniformly denounced by the church. The heads of the French Catholic church of the time deemed "Cantique de Noel" as unfit for church services because of its lack of musical taste and "total absence of the spirit of religion." Yet even as the church tried to bury the Christmas song, the French people continued to sing it, and a decade later a reclusive American writer brought it to a whole new audience halfway around the world.
Not only did this American writer--John Sullivan Dwight--feel that this wonderful Christmas song needed to be introduced to America, he saw something else in the song that moved him beyond the story of the birth of Christ. An ardent abolitionist, Dwight strongly identified with the lines of the third verse: "Truly he taught us to love one another; his law is love and his gospel is peace. Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother; and in his name all oppression shall cease." The text supported Dwight's own view of slavery in the South. Published in his magazine, Dwight's English translation of "O Holy Night" quickly found favor in America, especially in the North during the Civil War.
Back in France, even though the song had been banned from the church for almost two decades, many commoners still sang "Cantique de Noel" at home. Legend has it that on Christmas Eve 1871, in the midst of fierce fighting between the armies of Germany and France, during the Franco-Prussian War, a French soldier suddenly jumped out of his muddy trench. Both sides stared at the seemingly crazed man. Boldly standing with no weapon in his hand or at his side, he lifted his eyes to the heavens and sang, "Minuit, Chretiens, c'est l'heure solennelle ou L'Homme Dieu descendit jusqu'a nous," the beginning of "Cantique de Noel."
After completing all three verses, a German infantryman climbed out his hiding place and answered with, "Vom Himmel noch, da komm' ich her. Ich bring' euch gute neue Mar, Der guten Mar bring' ich so viel, Davon ich sing'n und sagen will," the beginning of Martin Luther's robust "From Heaven Above to Earth I Come."
The story goes that the fighting stopped for the next twenty-four hours while the men on both sides observed a temporary peace in honor of Christmas day. Perhaps this story had a part in the French church once again embracing "Cantique de Noel" in holiday services.
Adams had been dead for many years and Cappeau and Dwight were old men when on Christmas Eve 1906, Reginald Fessenden--a 33-year-old university professor and former chief chemist for Thomas Edison--did something long thought impossible. Using a new type of generator, Fessenden spoke into a microphone and, for the first time in history, a man's voice was broadcast over the airwaves: "And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed," he began in a clear, strong voice, hoping he was reaching across the distances he supposed he would.
Shocked radio operators on ships and astonished wireless owners at newspapers sat slack-jawed as their normal, coded impulses, heard over tiny speakers, were interrupted by a professor reading from the gospel of Luke. To the few who caught this broadcast, it must have seemed like a miracle--hearing a voice somehow transmitted to those far away. Some might have believed they were hearing the voice of an angel.
Fessenden was probably unaware of the sensation he was causing on ships and in offices; he couldn't have known that men and women were rushing to their wireless units to catch this Christmas Eve miracle. After finishing his recitation of the birth of Christ, Fessenden picked up his violin and played "O Holy Night," the first song ever sent through the air via radio waves. When the carol ended, so did the broadcast--but not before music had found a new medium that would take it around the world.
Since that first rendition at a small Christmas mass in 1847, "O Holy Night" has been sung millions of times in churches in every corner of the world. And since the moment a handful of people first heard it played over the radio, the carol has gone on to become one of the entertainment industry's most recorded and played spiritual songs. This incredible work--requested by a forgotten parish priest, written by a poet who would later split from the church, given soaring music by a Jewish composer, and brought to Americans to serve as much as a tool to spotlight the sinful nature of slavery as tell the story of the birth of a Savior--has become one of the most beautiful, inspired pieces of music ever created.
Andy Williams closed his Branson Christmas shows with a very touching rendition of “O Holy Night” that involves the audience in a special way.
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By Kevin Fischer
Thursday, Dec 20 2007, 05:00 AM
EVERY DAY FROM NOVEMBER 30-DECEMBER 24, I AM HIGHLIGHTING A CHRISTMAS SONG AND THE STORY BEHIND IT. PLEASE ENJOY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
“Bob Hope's unwavering commitment to the morale of America's servicemen and women is entertainment history, indeed, world history. Many say 'legend.'
For nearly six decades, be the country at war or at peace, Bob, with a band of Hollywood gypsies, traveled the globe to entertain our service men and women.
The media dubbed him "America's No. 1 Soldier in Greasepaint." To the GIs, he was "G.I. Bob" and their clown hero.”
From bobhope.com
Here’s a short clip from one of Bob Hope’s Christmas shows overseas. On December 22 1968, Bob's "Operation Holly" performed at Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam. This video records that event. The original film was silent, so the audio from his performance at Long Binh Army Depot that same Christmas is dubbed onto the video.
I feature the Bob Hope video as a prelude to today’s segment because one of the best Christmas classics emerged from wartime.
From the The Library of Congress Presents: Music, Theater and Dance:
In 1943, "I'll Be Home for Christmas" joined "White Christmas" to become one of America's most popular homegrown holiday songs. Recorded in a rich baritone by Bing Crosby, "I'll Be Home for Christmas" shot to the top ten of the record charts (as "White Christmas" had for Crosby the previous year) and became a holiday musical tradition in the United States.
On October 4, 1943, Crosby recorded "I'll Be Home for Christmas" with the John Scott Trotter Orchestra for Decca Records. Within about a month of its being copyrighted the song hit the music charts and remained there for eleven weeks, peaking at number three. The following year, the song reached number nineteen on the charts. It touched a tender place in the hearts of Americans, both soldiers and civilians, who were then in the depths of World War II, and it earned Crosby his fifth gold record. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" became the most requested song at Christmas U.S.O. shows in both Europe and the Pacific and Yank, the GI magazine, said Crosby accomplished more for military morale than anyone else of that era.
In December 1965, having completed the first U.S. space rendezvous and set a record for the longest flight in the U.S. space program, the astronauts Frank Borman and James Lovell hurtled back to earth aboard their Gemini 7 spacecraft. Asked by NASA communication personnel if they wanted any particular music piped up to them, the crew requested Bing Crosby's recording of "I'll Be Home for Christmas."
For those separated this Christmas, for those ill and suffering, and for those brave men and women fighting for our country………legends Tony Bennett and Placido Domingo:
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By Kevin Fischer
Wednesday, Dec 19 2007, 05:00 AM
EVERY DAY FROM NOVEMBER 30-DECEMBER 24, I AM HIGHLIGHTING A CHRISTMAS SONG AND THE STORY BEHIND IT. PLEASE ENJOY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
The Little Drummer Boy was originally a Czech song called, “The Carol of the Drum.” Katherine Davis translated it into English in 1941.
Henry Onorati did some arranging on this song for Jack Halloran in 1957. The Jack Halloran Singers recorded the song, but when Halloran’s record company refused to release it as a single, Onorati gave the song to Harry Simeone. Simeone hired the Jack Halloran Singers to record the now-famous version of this song.
The original version, quite honestly, never did anything for me. Though an obviously wonderful story, the song is bland.
Not so dull was the idea to pair a famous crooner with a rocker in 1977 to sing Drummer Boy and Peace on Earth.
Last December 20, Paul Farhi wrote an article in the Washington Post entitled, “Bing and Bowie: An Odd Story of Holiday Harmony.”
One of the most successful duets in Christmas music history -- and surely the weirdest -- might never have happened if it weren't for some last-minute musical surgery. David Bowie thought "The Little Drummer Boy" was all wrong for him. So when the producers of Bing Crosby's Christmas TV special asked Bowie to sing it in 1977, he refused.
Just hours before he was supposed to go before the cameras, though, a team of composers and writers frantically retooled the song. They added another melody and new lyrics as a counterpoint to all those pah-rumpa-pum-pums and called it "Peace on Earth." Bowie liked it. More important, Bowie sang it.
The result was an epic, and epically bizarre, recording in which David Bowie, the androgynous Ziggy Stardust, joined in song with none other than Mr. "White Christmas" himself, Bing Crosby.
In the intervening years, the Bowie-Crosby, "Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy," has been transformed from an oddity into a holiday chestnut. You can hear it in heavy rotation on Christmas-music radio stations or see the performance on Internet video sites. First released as a single in 1982, it still sells today -- to add to its quirky afterlife, it's part of an album that's ranked as high as No. 3 on the Canadian charts this month. How did this almost surreal mash-up of the mainstream and the avant-garde, of cardigan-clad '40s-era crooner and glam rocker, happen?It almost didn't. Bowie, who was 30 at the time, and Crosby, then 73, recorded the duet Sept. 11, 1977, for Crosby's "Merrie Olde Christmas" TV special. A month later, Crosby was dead of a heart attack. The special was broadcast on CBS about a month after his death.
The notion of pairing the resolutely white-bread Crosby with the exquisitely offbeat Bowie apparently was the brainchild of the TV special's producers, Gary Smith and Dwight Hemion, according to Ian Fraser, who co-wrote (with Larry Grossman) the song's music and arranged it.
Crosby was in Great Britain on a concert tour, and the theme of the TV special was Christmas in England. Bowie was one of several British guest stars (the model Twiggy and "Oliver!" star Ron Moody also appeared). Booking Bowie made logistical sense, since the special was taped near his home in London, at the Elstree Studios. As perhaps an added inducement, the producers agreed to air the arty video of Bowie's then-current single, "Heroes" (Crosby introduced it).
It's unclear, however, whether Crosby had any idea who Bowie was. Buz Kohan, who wrote the special and worked with Fraser and Grossman on the music, says he was never sure Crosby knew anything about Bowie's work. Fraser has a slightly different memory: "I'm pretty sure he did [know]. Bing was no idiot. If he didn't, his kids sure did."
Kohan worked some of the intergenerational awkwardness into his script. In a little skit that precedes the singing, Crosby greets Bowie at the door of what looks like Dracula's castle (actually, it's a set that's supposed to be Crosby's rented London home). The conceit is that Bowie is dropping by a friend's house and finds Crosby at home one snowy afternoon.
They banter for a bit and then get around to a piano. Bowie casually picks out a piece of sheet music of "The Little Drummer Boy" and declares, "This is my son's favorite."
The original plan had been for Bowie and Crosby to sing just "Little Drummer Boy." But "David came in and said: 'I hate this song. Is there something else I could sing?' " Fraser said. "We didn't know quite what to do."
Fraser, Kohan and Grossman left the set and found a piano in the studios' basement. In about 75 minutes, they wrote "Peace on Earth," an original tune, and worked out an arrangement that weaved together the two songs. Bowie and Crosby nailed the performance with less than an hour of rehearsal.
And that was almost that. "We never expected to hear about it again," Kohan said.
But after the recording circulated as a bootleg for several years, RCA decided to issue it as a single in 1982. It has since been packaged and repackaged in Christmas compilation albums and released as a DVD.
It's still the most played Christmas duet on WASH-FM (97.1), airing once or twice a day when the station plays nothing but holiday music, said Bill Hess, WASH's program director. Hess likes how the two men blend their voices. The real clincher, he says, is Crosby, who has been associated with holiday music for generations. " 'White Christmas' really helps sell it," he says.
Also among the song's fans is Roger D. Launius, who remembers watching the original Crosby TV special while he was a graduate student and the parent of two children, ages 1 and 3.
"It was a very hectic time in my life, and the song was very peaceful and beautiful," says Launius, chairman of the space history division at the National Air and Space Museum. "I don't remember anything else about the special, but I remembered that song."
Launius hadn't given it too much thought until about seven years ago, when his now-adult daughter sent him a Christmas CD. Among the selections was the Bowie-Crosby duet.
The other day at his office, Launius checked the hard drive on his computer. Yep, there it was. With a couple of clicks, Launius let the warm harmony, and the memories, come flooding back.
And by request.........
for Karen................
Josh Groban's brand new version.
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By Kevin Fischer
Tuesday, Dec 18 2007, 05:45 AM
One of the most beloved Christmas carols was written by two men who never met each other.
Lindsey Terry writes in Today’s Christian:
One of our most popular Christmas carols is the result of the efforts of Isaac Watts and Lowell Mason—and, some believe, George Frederick Handel. Watts was a frail, quiet man only five feet tall. Mason was an energetic publisher, choir director, and composer. Handel was a large, robust musical genius. Handel and Watts were contemporaries in London and one imagines they must have appreciated each other's talents. Mason lived 100 years later in Boston.
In 1719 Isaac Watts, already a notable scholar and author, sat down under a tree at the Abney Estate near London and began to compose poetry based on Psalm 98. Watts had begun writing verses as a small child. In his teen years he complained that the songs in church were hard to sing. His father said, "Well, you write some that are better." And so he did. For the next two years, young Isaac wrote a new hymn each week. (He would eventually write more than 600 of them, all based on Scripture.) Today, hymns like "Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed" and "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" are hallmarks of the Christian church, and Watts is regarded as "the Father of English Hymnody."
In 1741 George Frederick Handel, who was already famous as the composer of several operas and oratorios, decided that he wanted to do a truly great work. After spending time in prayer, he arose from his knees and for 23 days labored almost continuously day and night. The immortal Messiah, now a Christmas tradition, was the fruit of that incessant struggle.
A nobleman once praised Handel for the "entertainment" he had furnished in one of his compositions. In no uncertain terms Handel let the nobleman know that his music was composed to make men better, not to entertain them.
Almost a century later, Lowell Mason set Watts's poem of "joy" to music. For years it was assumed that Mason used tunes from Handel's Messiah for portions of the arrangement, but the veracity of that claim is now debated among scholars. Listeners can judge for themselves. But this we know: It was Mason who ultimately brought the pieces together to give us "Joy to the World."
Here’s Mannheim Steamroller performing in the historic Orpheum Theatre in their home town of Omaha, Nebraska.
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By Kevin Fischer
Monday, Dec 17 2007, 05:00 AM
EVERY DAY FROM NOVEMBER 30-DECEMBER 24, I AM HIGHLIGHTING A CHRISTMAS SONG AND THE STORY BEHIND IT. PLEASE ENJOY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Ray Evans and Jay Livingston were talented songwriters. They wrote “Mona Lisa” for Nat King Cole. Also on their songwriting resumes: the themes to “Bonanza” and “Mr. Ed.” But their best and most popular composition is a Christmas standard.
Christopher Reed wrote for Guardian Unlimited that the two were commissioned to write a Christmas song for a movie:
“In 1951, under their contract for Paramount, they were assigned a Bob Hope movie from a Damon Runyon story called The Lemon Drop Kid, which needed a song. But Evans and Livingston wanted an Oscar hit. Their first had been in 1948 for Buttons and Bows, the novelty song Bob Hope sang to Jane Russell in the comedy western, The Paleface. They won another for Mona Lisa in the 1950 film Captain Carey, USA, but the haunting song had yet to become the international standard sung by Nat King Cole, who only released it months after the film's premiere, and then as a B-side to a now forgotten song.
What Evans and Livingston believed was that a Christmas song was not big-hit material. They grumbled, but in vain. The studio bosses insisted and the pair went back to their office. Then, inspired by a little bell on their desk, they cranked out the song in two days, with Livingston providing the melody, Evans the words.”
Ace Collins, author of, “The Stories Behind the Best-Loved Christmas Songs,” wrote that before Evans and Livingston shared their new Christmas song with Bob Hope, “they decided to sing it to Ray’s wife. The men were chagrined and confused when the woman giggled as they sang. As she doubled over in laughter, the team wondered what had gone wrong.
When Mrs. Evans composed herself, she informed the duo that the chorus was all wrong. It wouldn’t work, she assured them. She pointed out that when others heard it, they would laugh as hard as she had.
The song’s problem could be traced to the small bell that served as its inspiration. Livingston and Evans had named their song after that tiny instrument….”
As Christopher Reed pointed out in his Guardian Unlimited article:
They called it Tinkle Bell, but Livingston's wife reminded him that "tinkle" had another association. "It was something you did in the bathroom," Evans recalled years later, "but that's a woman's word and I'd never thought of it. But I was very unhappy again because I hate to rewrite." What he did was to change the first word to "silver", but still the song had problems.
The film's original director disliked it and had singers perform it so boringly that the writers thought it would be cut, but the producer loved the song and brought in another director, Sidney Lanfield. He filmed Hope and co-star Marilyn Maxwell singing it together as they pranced through New York. It made the film but not the Oscars. But before its release, Bing Crosby came by the songwriters' Paramount lunch table and asked if they had any songs for him. "He loved it and recorded it and that made it a definitive Christmas song," Evans recalled. It became one of the most popular, and in his later years, Evans calculated, it still brought him about $600,000 annually in royalties. He appreciated the irony that as a Jew and a non-believer he had never liked Christmas carols.
Ray Evans died in February of this year. He was 92. His partner, Jay Livingston died in October of 2001.
Here are Bob Hope and Marilyn Maxwell in 1951's, "The Lemon Drop Kid."
BLOG BONUS:
It should come as no surprise that I enjoy Elvis' version of, "Silver Bells."
What's neat about it is that Elvis plays it straight. The result is a very pretty song.
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By Kevin Fischer
Sunday, Dec 16 2007, 06:00 AM
You may not know who Mark Lowry is, but you probably know the most famous song he ever wrote.
Ace Collins writes about Lowry in his book, “Stories Behind the Best-loved Songs of Christmas.”
Mark Lowry started singing almost before he could talk. As a pre-schooler he was already belting out solos in the grade school choir.
Mark stood out in teachers’ eyes for more than his singing. During his first years of elementary school, Lowry was diagnosed as hyperactive and place don medication. At about that same time it became apparent that the boy had absolutely no athletic ability. To many adults and kids, mark appeared to be little more than an energetic klutz- an out of control mini-tornado. Rather than allow their son to be sidetracked and dismissed as a hopeless cause, Mark’s parents made sure that this “curse” was looked at as a blessing. They emphasized the positive.
The Lowry’s assured Mark that God had a plan for his life and that his uniqueness was a part of it. Instead of trying to make him act just like all the other kids, The Lowry’s allowed Mark to exploit his curiosity and his energy. He loved performing, so they put him on every stage that would take him- everything from church programs to community musicals.
As a teen, he was discovered, and recorded inspirational albums with the London Symphony Orchestra.
Collins continues:
In 1984, when he was living in Houston, his pastor asked Mark to write the program for the living Christmas tree choir presentation. The group traditionally sang familiar holiday carols, so Lowry’s job was to write the bridges that connected one song to another. It was while he was working on the project that Mark considered what it would have been like to be Jesus’ mother.
“When I wrote this thing about Mary,” Mark explained, “I began by thinking I was interviewing her on her thoughts of being a mother to Jesus. A couple of the lines I wrote really stood out, like ‘when you kiss your little baby, you’ve kissed the face of God.’ I just thought this needed to be a song.”
Keeping the perspective of a reporter doing a story on Jesus from Mary’s viewpoint, Mark penned a poem that sent chills up his spine. Still, taking those powerful lyrics and turning them into a full-blown song was a bigger challenge than even he could have expected. Although he gave the words to a solid music writer, he wasn’t happy with the results; the melody didn’t have the right feel. Filing “Mary Did You Know?” away, Mark decided to wait on the Lord’s timing rather than put his lyrics to music that failed to move him.
In 1988, after Gary McSpadden left the Gaither Vocal Band, Bill Gaither was looking for a replacement to fill the void in his quartet. After watching a video of Mark Lowry onstage, not only was Gaither impressed with Mark’s singing, , he thought the young man could bring a great deal of Christian humor to the group’s performances. When Bill called, Mark packed his bags.
Mark had been with the band for two years when Buddy Green joined them. A talented musician, Buddy was also a songwriter who was beginning to hit stride and produce some very strong work. Mark decided to share, “Mary Did You Know?” with Buddy.
Rather than pull Green to one side and share the story behind the song, Mark wrote a short note over the top of the lyrics: Buddy, here are some God-inspired words. Please add some beautiful music and make it a profitable hit. The memo was meant as a joke, but Green took both the note and his job seriously. He set the lyrics aside for a couple of weeks, then went to work. When he finished, he called Mark on the phone and sang the song to him. Lowry loved it and within a week they had put together a “jam box” demo to give to one of their favorite artists.
Their pick for the song was impressed as well. When “Mary Did you Know?” was originally cut by Christian sensation Michael English, the writing duo felt blessed, but they really didn’t expect anyone else to jump on the bandwagon. Then country singer Kathy Mattea heard the Lowry-Green number and recorded it next. Scores of other acts quickly took the song into the studio.” For the first time ever, southern gospel music had given the world a Christmas carol.
Collins then credits Mark’s parents for viewing their son’s problems as gifts.
Looking at the world through his unique, God-given perspective led him to think of one of the world’s most familiar stories in a new light. “Mary Did You Know?” a song like no other Christmas carol ever penned, written about a mother like no other, came from the hand of man like no other.
Lowry can now be seen on Bill Gaither’s gospel programs on public television. Here’s Lowry singing his own Christmas carol.
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By Kevin Fischer
Saturday, Dec 15 2007, 05:00 AM
EVERY DAY FROM NOVEMBER 30-DECEMBER 24, I AM HIGHLIGHTING A CHRISTMAS SONG AND THE STORY BEHIND IT. PLEASE ENJOY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
It wouldn’t be Christmas without him.
From the National Public Radio website:
Dec. 23, 2002 -- To most folks, he's the scheming, green sourpuss who hated Christmas so much he tried to make it vanish completely. But the Grinch inspired a little more sympathy in his creator. To Dr. Seuss, he wasn't a villain -- just a guy whose heart, "two sizes too small," needed a dose of the true spirit of the holiday. In fact, Seuss himself said that he identified with the fuzzy anti-hero.
Just like the Grinch, Theodor Geisel, who wrote and illustrated dozens of books under the pseudonym Dr. Seuss, didn't go in for the fancy celebrations surrounding the holiday. According to his niece Peggy Owens, he wasn't "into the sentimentality" of the season. Still, he spent every Christmas at home with his family in Springfield, Massachusetts.
For Morning Edition, NPR's Elizabeth Blair reports on the origins of one of the most famous -- and beloved -- modern Christmas stories, Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas. As part of the ongoing series Present at the Creation, Blair traces the evolution of the Grinch, from the sketch on the wall of Seuss' studio to the icon who steals down from Mt. Crumpit every year to steal Christmas from the Whos.
Theodor Geisel was a private man, but those who knew him said he was a meticulous worker. He created his thought-provoking comic masterpieces in a house on Mt. Soledad, overlooking La Jolla, Calif., and the Pacific Ocean. Ted Owens, who is Geisel's great nephew, remembers the studio where the unmatched Seuss imagination was set free.
"All the walls would just be plastered with rough tissue sketchings," Owens says. "Sketches of what the story would be, what the layout would be, with the ideas for texts (and) crossed-out words as he refined over and over again, finding the right cadence and words to use in these stories."
In 1957, at the age of 53, Seuss published The Grinch, and thousands of children first discovered the story of the Whos -- an endlessly cheerful bunch bursting with holiday spirit -- and the outsider so sickened by their joy in the season that he decides to hijack the holiday. The Grinch proves a natural at thieving, even lying to little Cindy Loo Who about his intentions as he stuffs the family tree up the chimney. Yet his efforts to ruin Christmas fail in the end.
Nine years after the publication of the book, television came calling. For help in translating his character to the screen, Seuss turned to Chuck Jones, the animator behind Bugs Bunny, Wile E. Coyote, the Roadrunner and many others. The two artists first met while collaborating -- imagine this -- on a series of military training films during World War II.
Jones' oddball, sardonic sensibility meshed perfectly with Seuss' nasty-but-nutty creation. Jones respected the source material, but trusted his own artistic instincts. In a 1996 interview with NPR's Bob Edwards, Jones revealed that it was his idea to make the Grinch, drawn in black and white in the book, into a green meany. Still, the cartoon reflected more than just Jones' style.
"He said that the Grinch (in the television cartoon) looked... more like me than it did like his Grinch," Jones remembered. "And I'm afraid that it did. I tend to sneak my face in without knowing it, into things that I draw, because sometimes I'll glance in the mirror to get a certain expression I want."
Television critic Leonard Maltin believes inserting Jones into the Seuss formula was a stroke of genius. "(Jones) had a subtlety, and a grace, and a fondness for verbal wit that matched his facility for verbal humor, even slapstick," Maltin says.
The other pieces of the puzzle fit neatly, too. As the voice of the Grinch and the story's narrator, Boris Karloff, an actor known for his roles as movie monsters, nailed the story's simultaneously lighthearted and ominous tone. Albert Hague's songs helped lift the cartoon to classic status -- especially "You're a Mean One, Mister Grinch." The rich baritone on that tune is provided by Thurl Ravenscroft, the "grrrrreat" voice of Frosted Flakes' Tony the Tiger. How the Grinch Stole Christmas played on CBS every Christmas for 22 years.
Despite the widespread appeal of the story, not everyone was pleased. Geisel once received a letter from brothers David and Bob Grinch of Ridgefield, N.J., asking if he would change the Grinch's name. Friends were teasing them. Seuss responded, "I disagree with your friends who 'harass' you. Can't they understand that the Grinch in my story is the Hero of Christmas? Sure... he starts out as a villain, but it's not how you start out that counts. It's what you are at the finish."
Listen to a report on the Grinch by NPR’s Elizabeth Blair.
Here’s “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch,” from the original animated feature and from the movie featuring Jim Carey.
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By Kevin Fischer
Friday, Dec 14 2007, 12:05 AM
Ever notice how so many “Christmas” songs have absolutely nothing to do with the holiday?
Let’s look at some examples, shall we?
There’s the 1937 song, “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm,” sung here by the man who’s re-invented himself by performing tunes older than he is….Rod Stewart.
The late 40's brought us, "Baby It's Cold Outside," and many, many duets have been recorded, including Tom Jones and Cerys Matthews.
In 1945, Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne wrote a love song that never mentions "Christmas," done here by Celtic Woman.
Do you see a pattern developing here?
Songs about winter, bad weather, December.......suddenly they're Christmas songs.
But how do you explain this one?
It was performed........
During.......................
A thunderstorm....
Does it really matter? Love 'em all.
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By Kevin Fischer
Thursday, Dec 13 2007, 12:01 AM
EVERY DAY FROM NOVEMBER 30-DECEMBER 24, I AM HIGHLIGHTING A CHRISTMAS SONG AND THE STORY BEHIND IT. PLEASE ENJOY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Ask anyone their favorite Christmas song, and they’ll probably mention a dusty oldie recorded decades ago.
Is there a modern Christmas classic?
Maybe.
How about, “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” by Mariah Carey.
Certainly you’ve heard of her.
Sasha Frere-Jones wrote this in the New Yorker on April 3, 2006:
“She (Carey) co-wrote one of the few worthy modern additions to the holiday canon, the charming “All I Want for Christmas Is You” (from “Merry Christmas,” of 1994, which also happens to be the best-selling Christmas album of all time).”
Roch Parisien of the All Music Guide wrote, “Mariah Carey's co-penned "All I Want for Christmas Is You" is a well-crafted Phil Spector tribute, with Beach Boys-style harmonies, jangling bells, and sleigh-ride pace…”
But just a week ago, Rachel Beckman of the Washington Post wrote that Carey’s colossal Christmas tune is the “best ever.”
It's a holiday tune full of pure joy
It hasn't been around as long as, say, 'Joy to the World,' but Mariah Carey's 'All I Want' strikes an ecumenical chord even today.
By Rachel Beckman
Washington Post
December 4, 2007
It isn't December until Mariah Carey puts on her bright-red knit hat, zips up her white boots and kicks around in the fakest-looking snow ever with Santa Claus.
Is the scene familiar? It's from Mariah's music video for her 1994 holiday hit, "All I Want for Christmas Is You," the best Christmas song ever. Lots of people apparently share my love of this song: It was the 21st most-downloaded song on iTunes last weekend. Pretty impressive for a 13-year-old pop tune.
I first heard it while sitting in the basement of my Portland, Ore., home, watching MTV with my younger sister Heather. I was 12.
It starts with dramatic piano music, tinged with the sound of festive bells. Mariah drags out each syllable for maximum theatrics: "I don't want a lot for Christmas / There is just one thing I need."
About 50 seconds in, the chorus peps up, the piano goes nuts, a gospel choir claps and harmonizes with Mariah. My little *** heart couldn't soak in all the joy emanating from the television screen, so Heather and I danced.
We jumped around the basement, twisting our hips and squealing with delight. We tried and failed to hit Mariah's glass-shattering last note. "All I want for Christmas is YOU!"
But that's not what happened the very first time I heard the song.
I didn't like it. Rather, I didn't let myself like it. I'm a Jewish girl, and Jewish girls aren't supposed to listen to or enjoy Christmas music. I probably even changed the channel.
There aren't a whole lot of Jews in Portland. Enough so that I didn't feel like a total freak, but not enough so that kids wouldn't come up to me on the playground and ask why my people killed Jesus. I don't know what I resented more: being forced to sing Christmas carols for the school choir or singing the token Hanukkah songs. Even in elementary school, I could tell they were just putting those in the recital to be politically correct.
During the winter of '94, I was even more protective -- defensive, really -- of my faith. I was clocking serious hours at the synagogue in preparation for my bat mitzvah. Learning to read Hebrew and chant my Torah portion intensified my commitment to Judaism.
That same year, my mom suggested we put a string of blue and white lights on the roof. I threw a fit, saying we were not Christian and shouldn't do that. Nobody else in my family thought it was a big deal. We compromised and strung up white lights (I guess having colored bulbs upset me, among other things).
Even though I originally turned off the forbidden Mariah Carey song, it was winter break and Heather and I were spending an extraordinary amount of time in front of MTV. We wound up watching the video for "All I Want for Christmas Is You" at least twice a day. Yes, Virginia, MTV used to play music videos.
Heather, then 10, didn't share my religious zealotry. She did, however, think it unspeakably nerdy to be a Mariah Carey fan (she and her friends called her "Mariah Scary"), so "All I Want for Christmas Is You" was taboo for her too.
Still, after a few days of Mariah immersion, the song sucked us into its irresistible fairy-tale world, where love trumps material possessions. A place where we plead, "Santa won't you bring me the one I really need? / Won't you please bring my baby to me?"
We started getting excited to hear those slow, opening bars of piano and Mariah's elastic vocals, humming and tapping our hands on our laps with the beat. (The dancing started shortly thereafter.)
In the video, Mariah goes sledding, flirts with Santa and plays with a puppy under a Christmas tree in front of a roaring fire. "All I Want for Christmas Is You" is pure, distilled holiday music joy, like a shot of eggnog sipped under the mistletoe (or what I imagined that it was like -- I'd never tasted the stuff).
Without knowing it, Ms. Scary had struck a blow for ecumenical harmony, helped heal a milleniums-old rift in Judeo-Christian history. They should have blasted the song over the loudspeakers at the Middle East peace conference in Annapolis.
It is also one of the only new, original holiday songs to become a perennial hit (though in the Christmas music catalog, 13 years is nothing: "Jingle Bells" was written in the 1850s). Most everything else is either an old song or a remake of one.
"All I Want for Christmas" holds up all year. I'll listen to it in March or August or whenever I need a little mood boost. Next May, I plan to play it at my wedding reception.
Today, Heather and I live 3,000 miles apart, but we exchange ecstatic text messages: "OMG, M.C. all i want 4 xmas is on!"
Then I proceed to dance around my apartment, twist my hips and squeal with delight. Happy Hanukkah.
Here’s the yummy Mariah Carey in an outfit that could melt an iceberg, singing this contemporary Christmas classic to open a recent Christmas Day parade ABC-TV special from Walt Disney World.
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