A SONG IN MY HEART
By Gerard J. St. John
I don’t know how or when it started but music was always a part of my subconscious. In my mind, I would hear loud and clear the songs that I previously heard on the radio or on phonograph records. I heard them as early as 1939:
“Little Sir Echo, how do you do?
Hello! Hello!
Little Sir Echo, we’ll answer you
Hello! Hello!
Won’t you come over and play?
You’re a nice little fellow I know by your voice
But you’re always so far away.”
I never gave it a second thought; but then, I was only three years old. Years later, neighbors would recall how I would sing that song as I rode my tricycle up and down the driveway in back of our house on Chippendale Avenue. The neighbors liked it. Mrs. English wanted me to join the choir at her United Presbyterian Church. She even offered to give me their little dog Peggy that I liked so much. I didn’t even know what a United Presbyterian was, but I liked Little Sir Echo even more than Peggy the dog. And more than that, I liked all of the songs that played incessantly in my mind. It was like my own private jukebox.
Once I heard a song on the radio, I would mentally replay it in my leisure moments. Many a time on the Frankford El, I would find myself engrossed in the sound of the Four Aces singing “Tell Me Why” or “Melody of Love” and suddenly realize where I was, and wonder whether any of the other passengers in the car could hear the music that to me was so loud and entertaining. Now, years later, the same songs come drifting back – and with them are memories of days gone by. For example:
The Marine Corps Hymn.
From the Halls of Montezuma
To the shores of Tripoli,
We fight our country’s battles
In the air, on land and sea.
Between Dad and Uncle Bill, “the Hymn” has been around forever. It took on a personal meaning in 1959 when I reported for duty at Marine Corps Schools, Quantico, Virginia. It continues to have a personal and emotional appeal that William Manchester described very well in his book Goodbye Darkness. Hardly do you hear the first few notes when you suddenly realize that you are standing at attention.
The Grammar School Years.
When I hear these songs, I am back at St. Matthew’s School, coming home for lunch, or sitting in the kitchen and listening to the radio.
Mrs. Murphy’s Chowder.
Who threw the overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder?
Nobody answered so he shouted all the louder.
It’s an Irish trick, that’s true
I can lick the Mick that threw
The overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s chowder.
Boarding houses were more common in the days of the Great Depression. The mother of Aunt Agnes’ friend, Kitty White operated a boarding house populated by immigrants, many of them from Newfoundland. Her maiden name was St. John but she was not related to us. Still, we heard a lot of stories about life in a boarding house and it was easy to picture a large pot being used for washing in the morning and for cooking at dinner time.
Mac Namara’s Band.
Oh my name is MacNamara, I’m the leader of the band,
Although we’re small in numbers we’re the finest in the land.
We play at wakes and weddings and at every fancy ball;
And when we play at funerals, we play the march of Saul.
Oh the drums go bang,
And the cymbals clang,
And the horns they blaze away.
O’Reilly plays the old bassoon
And I the pipes do play.
It is noontime, at home on Chippendale Avenue, in the kitchen with the aroma of Campbell’s tomato or chicken noodle soup simmering on the stove, listening to the radio. It was Bing Crosby’s song – one of many. Hardly an hour went by without one of Bing’s songs playing on the radio.
I had a hat when I came in and I’ll have a hat when I go out!
I had a hat when I came in,
I hung it on the rack.
And I’ll have a hat when I go out,
Or I’ll break somebody’s back.
Again it was Bing Crosby on the radio. And again, I am in the kitchen while Campbell’s chicken noodle soup is simmering. The song reminds me of William Bendix radio show, The Life of Reilly.
Linda.
When I go to sleep, I never count sheep,
I count all the charms about Linda;
And lately it seems
In all of my dreams,
I dream I’ve my arms around Linda.
It is Wildwood, New Jersey, with Uncle Jim and Aunt Kathryn in about 1946 or 1947. We are on the boardwalk or playing miniature golf. There is the aroma of fresh baked donuts. And, of course, Laura’s Fudge shop. We stayed in a second floor apartment with a slanted linoleum floor in the kitchen. The owners, Mr. & Mrs. Bello, would often send up to us a pot of Mrs. Bello’s spaghetti sauce with fresh crabmeat. It was even better than the fudge.
The High School Years.
You Don’t Know Me.
You give your hand to me
And then you say goodbye;
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy,
To never, never know
The one that loves you so;
No you don’t know me.
Eddie Arnold’s plaintive song brings back memories of the crowd in Mayfair and the inevitable breakup of “that old gang of mine.”
Ghost Riders in the Sky.
An old cowpoke went riding out one dark and windy day;
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way;
When all at once a fearful herd of red-eyed cows he saw;
A-running across the ragged skies and up a cloudy draw.
In Uncle Jim’s basement on Dungan Street, watching the small TV set that he brought home from Philco in about 1950, and Vaughn Monroe is singing his country and western hit that is a long way from the classic Vaughn Monroe big band music. Years later, Jim Tully would put the words of The Marine Corps Hymn to the tune of Ghost Riders.
Ballerina.
Dance ballerina dance,
And just ignore that seat that’s empty in the second row.
Dance on and on and on,
Although he’s not out there applauding as you steal the show.
Nat King Cole, also made regular appearances on that old Philco television set in Uncle Jim’s basement.
The Thing.
I picked it up and opened it up
And right before my eyes,
I discovered a “bump-de-bump”
Right before my eyes.
What was a “bump-de-bump?” Everyone in the country wondered. Uncle Jim liked these kinds of nonsense songs. And so did a lot of other people.
The Whole World in His Hands.
He’s got the whole world
In His hands.
He’s got the whole wide world
In His hands.
He’s got the whole world
In His hands.
He’s got the whole world in His hands.
The Ed Sullivan TV show spread this one from Uncle Jim’s basement across the entire nation. A dozen years later, I would hear it in the evenings aboard troopships in the Far East.
Paper Doll.
I’m going to buy a paper doll that I can call my own;
A doll that other fellows cannot steal.
And then those flirty, flirty guys
With their flirty, flirty eyes,
Will have to flirt with dollies that are real.
It is back to Mayfair and Jim McMahon, who was enamored with this Mills Brothers song – but so were a lot of others.
Rags to Riches.
For this song, I can only remember the refrain:
“Should I forever be a beggar
Whose golden dreams would not come true?
Or will I go from rags to riches?
My fate is up to you.”
Working at the A&P supermarket at C and Rising Sun Avenue, we adopted it as our theme: “Should I forever be a bagger!”
Blueberry Hill.
I found my thrill
On Blueberry Hill,
On Blueberry Hill,
Where I found you.
Back in Mayfair, listening to Steve Gibson and the Red Caps. Blueberry Hill was later recorded by Fats Domino but the Red Caps were there first.
I Walk the Line.
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.
I keep my eyes wide open all the time.
I keep the end out for the tie that binds.
Because you’re mine,
I walk the line.
It was not often that I was in Lincoln High School during the school day. But one afternoon, I was with Fred Eisele walking down the hall closest to Rowland Avenue when the public address system broadcast a song that immediately caught my attention. “What is that?” I asked Fred. He responded, “That’s Johnny Cash.” Fred was ten years ahead of television. Johnny Cash later had one of the most popular shows on television. I got to see him live in Topeka, Kansas during the UPS hearing there.
College Days.
Ain’t that a Shame.
You made me cry
When you said goodbye;
Ain’t that a shame?
My tears fell like rain;
Ain’t that a shame,
My tears fell like rain.
In 1955 we were working on a traffic survey, a politically sponsored job for the State of Pennsylvania. It was the start of the rock-and-roll era. Fats Domino’s songs could be heard everywhere, including the picnics sponsored by Bell of Pennsylvania and Western Electric Company. Those were good times.
Picnic.
On a picnic morning
Without a warning …
You had to be there. It was not great lyrics; it was emotion evoked by Kim Novak and William Holden in a classic movie. It haunted me from my time in Mayfair through Saint Joe and through the Marine Corps. It remains a classic.
You Belong to Me.
See the Pyramids along the Nile;
Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle;
Just remember darling all the while;
You belong to me.
Fly the ocean in a silver plane;
See the jungle when it’s wet with rain
Just remember till you’re home again …
In Pier No. 3 North on Delaware Avenue, I worked for E. A. Gallagher & Sons, exporting material to the Arabian American Oil Company in Saudi Arabia. Usually, this song is mentally replayed seriatim with the following melody.
Those Far Away Places.
Those far away places, with strange sounding names,
Far away over the sea;
Those far away places, with strange sounding names,
Are calling, calling, to me.
We are preparing oil drilling equipment for shipment to ARAMCO in Saudi Arabia and Cadillac limousines for shipment to King Saud personally. Would I ever visit those kinds of places?
Seven years later, in Okinawa, Hong Kong, the Philippines and Japan – the song comes back to me.
When the Saints Go Marching In.
Oh when the saints
Go marching in,
Oh when the saints
Go marching in,
I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in.
Trying to remember when you first heard “the Saints” is a little bit like trying to remember when you ate your first hoagie. It was not a part of the babyfood diet but it didn’t come long after. And chances are pretty good that Louis Armstrong played a role in that initial hearing or maybe it was the Philadelphia Mummers string bands. In college, it was a natural fit to substitute “the Hawks” for “the Saints.” Many an evening this song played and replayed in my mind on the way home from basketball games at the Palestra.
The Chattanooga Choo Choo.
Pardon me boy, is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo?
Yessir, track 29.
Can you afford to board the Chattanooga Choo Choo?
I’ve got my fare
And just a little to spare.
The songs from the “Big Band Era” began to fade out of popularity in the early 1950s but the Chattanooga Choo Choo held on longer than most. It came back strong in our house in about 1978 when Monique’s first grade nun, the diminutive Sister Edith, made sure that her entire class knew all of the words.
Tom Dooley.
Hang down your head Tom Dooley,
Hang down your head and cry.
Hang down your head Tom Dooley,
Poor boy you’re bound to die.
This plaintive folk song launched the career of The Kingston Trio like a Cape Canaveral rocket. Everyone in Kurt Engelbert’s car quieted down when it came on the radio.
The Wild Colonial Boy.
There was a wild colonial boy,
Jack Duggan was his name.
He was born and bred in Ireland,
in a town called Castlemaine.
He was his father’s only son;
His mother’s pride and joy.
And dearly did his parents love
The wild colonial boy.
It was featured in two popular movies, The Sundowners, starring Robert Mitchum, and The Quiet Man with John Wayne. Sadie Haughton and I both liked it and we would regularly sing it with very little coaxing. Later, Cathy’s family got a big kick out of my singing the song at parties and other family get-togethers.
The Minstrel Boy.
The minstrel boy to the war has gone,
In the ranks of death you will find him.
His father’s sword he has girded on
And his wild harp behind him.
Dennis Callahan, a retired fireman, was the custodian of athletic equipment during my last year at Saint Joseph’s College. Dennis told us that when he was in grammar school, one of the requirements was to know the words of The Minstrel Boy. After that, I began to take notice to the number of times that I heard the tune. Recently, it has been a featured part of the musical program at Marine Corps Headquarters at 8th and I Streets, in Washington, D.C.
Post-Graduate Songs.
The Isle of Inisfree.
I know some folks who say that I’m a dreamer,
And I’ve no doubt there’s truth in what they say;
For sure a body’s bound to be a dreamer
When all the things he loves are far away.
And precious things are dreams unto an exile,
They take him o’er the land across the sea,
Especially when it happens he’s an exile
From that dear, lovely Isle of Inisfree.
This was another song from The Quiet Man, popularized in records by Carmel Quinn. And it was another one of the tunes that Sadie and I would sing at the slightest suggestion, even if we prompted the suggestion.
They Call the Wind Mariah.
A way out here they have a name
For rain and wind and fire;
The rain is Tess,
The fire’s Joe
And they call the wind Mariah.
As you may know, “Mariah” is pronounced “Mar-eye-yah.” The song is from the Broadway musical Paint Your Wagon but its main popularity was due to the record albums of The Kingston Trio. Sadie Haughton and I made this our theme song in Ocean City during the summer of 1960.
Scotch & Soda.
Scotch and Soda, mud in your eye,
Baby do I feel high, oh me oh my,
Do I feel high.
Dry martini, a jigger of gin,
Oh what a spell you’ve got me in,
Oh my,
Do I feel high.
Another Kingston Trio blast from the past, and another favorite of ours in Ocean City and in Joe Diorio’s Circle Bar in Somer’s Point.
The Country’s in the Very Best of Hands.
Them city folks and we’uns
Is pretty much alike
Only they ain’t used to living in the sticks.
We don’t like stone and cement
But we is in agreement
When we gets down to talking politics.
The country’s in the very best of hands,
The best of hands,
The best of hands.
Another Broadway musical, this one based on the popular Al Capp cartoon “Li’l Abner.” Everyone in our crowd knew the words, and we all liked it.
Do Lord.
Do Lord, oh do Lord,
Oh do remember me!
Do Lord, oh do Lord,
Oh do remember me!
Do Lord, oh do Lord,
Oh do remember me!
Look away beyond the blue.
It was one of those country church-revival tunes and it was sung with a great deal of enthusiasm. I first heard it in Quantico but later I would hear it sung at night aboard the troopships in the South China Sea.
Brown Skin Girl.
Brown skin girl,
Go home and mind baby.
Brown skin girl,
Go home and mind baby.
I go away on a sailing trip,
And if I don’t come back,
Stay home and mind baby.
Harry Belafonte made calypso songs very popular in the 1950s and 1960s. I first heard this one being played by LeRoy Bostic as a group of us walked into the Princeton Hotel in Avalon, New Jersey. It never fails to bring back memories of LeRoy Bostic’s band and those evenings at the Princeton.
Cab Driver.
Cab driver, once more ‘round the block.
Never mind the tickin’ of the clock.
I only wish we could have had a talk.
Cab driver, once more ‘round the block.
A Mills Brothers song but we heard it mainly from LeRoy Bostic. It was Ocean City in 1960.
Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
An old gospel song – Sadie loved to sing the alto tenor background. Years later, it was one of the favorites of the troops at sea.
I Got a Horse Right Here.
I got a horse right here, his name is Paul Revere,