IT WILL STAND: the Music of Our Youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 1
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IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 1 IT WILL STAND “It swept this whole wide land, Sinkin' deep in the heart of man. Yes, Rock & Roll forever will stand.” IT WILL STAND by The Showmen (1961, 1964) If you were to walk the almost-empty hallways of Clarkstown High School tomorrow morning and listen very carefully, ignoring the slamming of a locker door over on the next corridor, or the sound of Mr. Buerkett's mop pushing a pile of sweeping compound down the glistening floors, or a girl's laughter after she drops her books while bending over a drinking fountain, you might hear something familiar. If you are lucky enough to hear it, you'll never forget it. My family was filled with musicians. My parents, older sister, Bonnie, and younger brother, Ray, could all play at least two instruments, with an old upright piano being the common core. I grew up listening to live piano music played by four family members, all day long. I took piano lessons myself for a few months but they didn't take me. But I loved the music. So it probably comes as no surprise that the first Rock & Roll record I ever bought was by a piano player. It was I'M WALKIN', by Fats Domino. I still have the 78rpm record I bought in February of 1957. (78rpm PHOTO HERE if I can find it by Friday). Some people believe the old conventional wisdom that Rock & Roll was invented in 1956 and the term was coined by Alan Freed. I'd agree with them, but then we'd both be wrong. There was music being played in the early 40s that is Rock & Roll music. Listen to Wynonie Harris or Amos Millburn or Louis Jordan. Best evidence? Listen to Fats Domino in his 1949 hit, THE FAT MAN. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoNC1BF_nmo As for the term “Rock & Roll,” it had been a euphemism for sex for decades. At my house Rock & Roll music may have been late in arriving, my parents being partial to Big Band, Patti Page, Perry Como, Lawrence Welk, and some cowboy music. But that would all change in the spring of 1956 when Elvis appeared on The Dorsey Brothers' television show and later, Steve Allen's Show, and The Ed Sullivan Show. I can still hear my older sister swooning as my brother and I looked at one another. “What is this?” Like many kids in New City in the mid-1950s, the music came to us via several radio stations, all out of Manhattan; all AM. Starting at the low end of the dial on the left hand side there was WMCA, 570, with the WMCA Good Guys. The WMCA jocks included Joe O'Brien, Harry Harrison, Jack Spector, Dandy Dan Daniel, and B. Mitchel Reed, and their play list was sort of good-time, middle of the road stuff, with a bunch of guys trying to be funny and a lot of forced laughter. Not my cup of tea, but a lot of the girls seemed to like it. If you look in the 64 SAGA, there is a picture of Nancy Robinson standing next to a trampoline, wearing a WMCA Good Guys sweatshirt. Nancy, I just saw on e-Bay they're selling for $50,000. Just kidding. Next stop on the dial was “Seventy-seven, WABC,” at 770. Herb Oscar Anderson ran IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 2 the morning drive, Big Dan Ingram, a truly hilarious DJ, was on in the mid-afternoon, and Bruce Morrow, “Cousin Brucie,” a recent émigré from WINS, ran the night shift. Their play list was also severely limited, with two songs followed by about six commercials and talk, and the mandatory playing of the top three songs every single hour. My personal favorite was “Ten-Ten WINS,” with a less polished approach first led by the legendary Alan Freed, who was fired amidst a payola and tax evasion scandal in the late 1950s. Freed's play list included the more raw, real music, and was heavy on R&B, Doo-Wop, and the early pioneers of Rock & Roll, regardless of their position on the charts. He played the good stuff. He was also receiving “pay-to-play” cash from promoters. I once heard him play Jackie Wilson's, I'LL BE SATISFIED, seven times in a row without stopping. WINS also had Murray “The K” Kaufman, an aging hipster with a trophy wife who ran his nightly show, “The Swingin' Soiree with Murray The K.” Kaufman's musical choices were eclectic. He started the show every night with a Sinatra song. His picks were not always taken from the Top 40, and included lots of “Golden Gassers for Submarine Race Watchers,” a code phrase for making out in the back seat of your parents' car. Kaufman had lots of comical shtick, his own pig-Latin style language, and played Doo- Wop and lots of Girl Groups like the Shirelles, the Ronettes, and The Crystals. With Freed and Kaufman, there were no manufactured pop stars coming from Dick Clark's sphere of influence. No Fabian, Frankie Avalon, Bobby Rydell, or other cookie-cutter mush. WINS played the real deal. Both Freed and Kaufman promoted Holiday Shows at the Brooklyn Fox and Brooklyn Paramount, and would bring in up to a dozen acts. I vowed to get there one day, but never did. At 1050 on the dial, WMGM played middle-of-the-road stuff, starting off in the morning with Ted Brown and the Redhead. Every night, Peter Tripp's “Your Hits of the Week,” would count down the Top 40 between 7 and 10pm. For late night listeners who were up past eleven and were serious aficionados of Doo- Wop and more obscure R&B, the only place to go was WADO, 1280 on the dial. There, the legendary “Ace from Outer Space,” Jocko Henderson hosted his nightly “Rocketship Show.” A black hipster, whose rhyming patter pre-dated hip-hop by at least twenty-five years, Jocko played roots Rock & Roll and an assortment of amazing, heavenly Doo-Wop that couldn't be found anywhere else. I heard TWIST & SHOUT by The Isley Brothers on Jocko's show weeks before it was played on the other stations. Our kitchen radio was always on while we got ready for school every morning and my portable radio was glued to my ear waiting for the school bus on the corner of Schriever Lane and Main Street. In seventh grade the class was split in half and half took the bus to Congers High in the morning, the other half in the afternoon. Every day riding across Lake DeForest was radio time for me. And again, taking “the late bus” after eighth grade basketball practice with Mr. Beecraft, more radio time. After homework, I listened on my bedroom radio. I was listening to music every available moment of every day, waiting to hear the latest gem that I could add to my record collection. And what was the result of all of this listening to Rock & Roll on the radio? In grade school, when Miss Doerr was trying to teach us to dance the Virginia Reel and Miss Gardner(nee Hall) was trying to teach us WOULD YOU LIKE TO SWING ON A STAR, we wanted to ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK and learn to sing WHOLE LOTTA SHAKIN' GOIN' IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 3 ON. For pre-adolescents and later teens during this era, there was music to suit every wild, hormonally-induced mood-swing: Music to fall in love by (ALL I HAVE TO DO IS DREAM, by The Everly Brothers); music to slow dance to (THIS, I SWEAR, by the Skyliners); music to fast dance to (Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly); music to recover from lost love (TEARS ON MY PILLOW, Little Anthony); and music for unrequited teen love, the most painful, non-life threatening scourge known to humanity (LONESOME TOWN, Rick Nelson). There was Doo-Wop: TONIGHT, TONIGHT, by the MelloKings; EARTH ANGEL, by The Penguins; IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT, by the Five Satins; COME GO WITH ME, by the Dell-Vikings. There was Piano Rock: DON'T YOU JUST KNOW IT? by Huey Piano Smith and the Clowns; any Fats Domino, any Little Richard, any Jerry Lee Lewis, WHAT'D I SAY, by Ray Charles. It might be said that Clarkstown Junior Senior High School was the only school in the country that prohibited Rock & Roll at school dances. All the music was provided by Doc Carney and The Sophisticated Swingsters. The play list was all Big Band favorites from the late 30s and early 40s that we now refer to as The American Songbook Standards. MOONLIGHT IN VERMONT, AUTUMN IN NEW YORK, IN THE MOOD, CHATTANOOGA CHOO-CHOO, and for really a wild time, THE BUNNY HOP. I remember ridiculing the decision to have this music at our dances instead of what we were hearing on the radio. I was resentful. But then, I fell in love while dancing to the music of Glenn Miller one hundred times between 7th and 12th grades, the very same music our parents had fallen in love listening to. Who else, other than my classmates from the Class of '64 can make that claim? Now, I'm thankful I know the Big Band catalog. Out of school we danced and fell in love to The Drifters and The Four Seasons and Elvis and Buddy and Ricky and Bobby and other teen idols.