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-, 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 .”

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 , , and . With Freed and Kaufman, there were no manufactured pop stars coming from '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 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; , 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 .

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. The dances we learned from watching American Bandstand all look so silly now. Sometimes the classics came from one-hit wonders like Reparata and the Delrons, or Barry and the Tammerlanes, or Sunny and the Sunglows, or The Elegants, or the Paradons. Sometimes they were wailers like , Jackie Wilson, or Marvin Gaye. Some were crooners like Smokey Robinson, or the great Girl Groups of who produced the greatest Christmas Album of all time.

On Sunday morning, February 3, 1959, I was standing in Tim Blauvelt's kitchen with Tim and Brother Ray, listening to the radio. The news came on that Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper had been killed in a plane crash during a snowstorm near Clear Lake, Iowa. We stood silently for a minute, not sure how to react. Nothing like that had ever happened to us before. Some people called it “The Day the Music Died,” but as big a fan as I was of Buddy Holly's, I cannot agree. It was a great loss, but the band played on. There was no stopping the momentum he helped create.

As for Ray Charles? He holds a special place in my personal music portfolio. He was born and raised in Florida for one thing, and I have been to his birthplace. The sharecropper's shack depicted in the movie, RAY, is a mansion compared to what his Florida home really looks like. I was enraptured by his music and so when I heard that he would be performing at Carnegie Hall on Sunday afternoon, May 13, 1962, Sandra Hofmann and I took a Red & Tan IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 4 bus to Manhattan and watched from the balcony as a part of musical history took place before our eyes. As a tenth grader, I quickly realized you can never be the same person after witnessing something like that. You're different somehow.

What did all these songs have in common? They provided us with a soundtrack to our adventures; they enhanced every discovery; they reinforced our emotions; they validated our feelings of desperate longing; nursed us through broken hearts, helped us celebrate when falling in love; articulated our feelings about the girls of our dreams; gave us hope for the future of our love.

As Carole King wrote for the Drifters, “When my little girl is smilin', it's the greatest thrill there can be.” What can I say, Carole? When you're right, you're right, and you were right.

The music kept us from facing the reality that it would all end some day: “Tonight, tonight, may it never reach an end. I'll miss you so, til you're in my arms again. With all of my heart, I declare with all my might, I'll love you forever, as I love you tonight.” TONIGHT, TONIGHT, the MelloKings.

When it was summertime, summertime, the Beach Boys made us wish we were swimming in the Pacific instead of New City Park Lake.

When we were lonely and insecure, it helped us try to figure things out. “Can't help it if I wonder what she's doing tonight. Tonight, tonight, where can she be tonight?” Barry and the Tammerlanes.

In the summer of '63, we stood poised for what we thought would be a standard issue senior year at CCHS, trying to follow in the footsteps and traditions of our predecessors. Two musical events signaled change. A twelve year old blind kid from Detroit released FINGERTIPS, and we all sat up and took notice. One thing we overlooked was a song sung by Del Shannon that climbed up the charts as “just another Del Shannon song.” What made it different was that it was written by two young men from Liverpool. Shannon had heard it sung by a band while on tour in England earlier that year and decided to record it for himself. It became a modest hit for him in this country that summer of ‘63. The song was, FROM ME, TO YOU, and the young songwriters, unknown in the U.S., were and Paul McCartney.

As our senior year began, the best songs on the radio were , JUST ONE LOOK, MOCKINGBIRD, POPSICLES/ICICLES, TALK TO ME, and SINCE I FELL FOR YOU.

And then, just when we thought we knew everything there was to know about life, love, school, and especially music, the unimaginable happened. We discovered how very wrong we could be. This is not an easy thing for a senior in high school to accomplish or admit.

In mid-November, 1963, ABC-TV News filmed a performance of four lads from IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 5 Liverpool who would change the world of music, of love, of life, forever. The film was aired in the one week later, on Thursday night, November 21, but was little discussed in this country, because within eighteen hours of the broadcast of England's hottest new Rock & Roll group, JFK was assassinated.

If there was one thing that assuaged the pain of JFK's murder, it was the music brought to us first via radio, when I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND was released in the U.S. the day after Christmas, 1963. Then in early February 1964, they performed on the Ed Sullivan Show. One third of the entire population of the United States watched them sing that night, and we would never be the same.

As seniors in high school, The Beatles were like an early graduation gift. By that spring, the British Invasion was in full swing, and boys were letting their bangs grow and girls were falling in love with British accents. All of our favorite American performers were being pushed off the charts by British groups who had been secretly studying the music of our best performers and were re-recording the old songs with a modern British beat.

The Beatles covered Chuck Berry, The Isley Brothers, and Smokey Robinson. covered Buddy Holly with their first hit. The Moody Blues first hit, GO NOW, was recorded in New York by Bessie Banks the week after JFK's Assassination, but never became a hit for her. The Animals, The Yardbirds, Gerry and the Pacemakers. They all got their starts imitating American performers before branching off into their own music on their own terms.

It was not really possible at that time to quantify the impact this old and new blend of music had on some of us. What we now heard on our radios that last semester at Clarkstown and for the next few years to come was literally the best of both worlds. The music that followed, literally changed everything, forever. There was no going back. We may have only sensed something at the time, not able to articulate it, but in retrospect, it is all quantifiable.

By the end of the Senior year, we had won a football championship, put on a hilarious version of THE MAN WHO CAME TO DINNER, watched a president get assassinated, watched the Beatles on television, won the basketball, baseball, cross-country, and tennis championships, read THE CITADEL, LOST HORIZON, KING LEAR, crowned George Owen and Kathleen Starke King and Queen of the Winter Ball, fell in and out of love. We said goodbye forever to kids who had been our brothers and sisters for thirteen years. They drove off into the sunset of our lives; to colleges in faraway towns, to work, to Vietnam, just as Brian Wilson was assuring us, “Don't Worry Baby, everything will turn out alright.” What can I say, Brian? When you're wrong, you're wrong, and you were wrong.

Was that stuff we grew up listening to any good? You already know the answer. It inspired every British Invasion group. It inspired musicians for the next fifty years. It's still listened to on radio, MP3s, and streamed to your internet via Pandora or YouTube. It's still used in a zillion movies and television commercials for easy shortcuts to emotional triggers. It's inspired hit Broadway shows like SMOKEY JOE'S CAFE and JERSEY BOYS. My twenty year-old son knows every Beatle song by heart.

So here it is now, fifty, sixty years later. I spend my days listening to classical music, still mostly piano. IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 6

But sometimes at night, when I'm alone, I take a special CD out of the vault, and as I listen, I am transported back to New City Grammar School where I hear SCHOOL DAYS by Chuck Berry which “delivered me from the days of old.” This was the best tune to listen to on Whitey's jukebox while having one of his world-class cheeseburgers.

With other tunes I am with my fifth grade friends biking Maple Avenue, hanging out at the Dutch Garden, wading the Demarest Kill, or climbing High Tor, or having a cherry coke at Tor's, or a slice at Mario's Pizza, where the best jukebox song was YOU REALLY GOT A HOLD ON MY by Smokey Robinson. (By the way, if you're curious about what songs were on Whitey's jukebox in January of 1957, just let me know. I may be a little rusty on the B-sides). I like to think the songs were a reflection of his tastes in music.

For some songs I'm walking the halls at Clarkstown Junior Senior High School on my way to Locker 84 and a girl I had a crush on that week surprises me with a smile outside chemistry class and makes my day.

Other songs will blend in with music from Doc Carney's afternoon orchestra practice as I walk under the majestic maples by the tennis courts whose leaves are ablaze with autumn color.

There's a doo-wop song Raspanti used to sing in falsetto in Mr. Dumoff's history class, just to drive him crazier, just like we used to drive all the teachers crazy with our own versions of the opening drum solo to WIPEOUT, pounded out on the school desktops.

I'm riding a bus to an away basketball game on a freezing January night, my portable radio stuck in my ear as the signal fades in and out on Skeeter Davis while she sings END OF THE WORLD.

Or parked on the 9W pull-off, overlooking the Hudson, wondering what life is all about and listening for tips on same from Motown. (In '65 we were later warned, Stop in the name of love! Never).

Or I'm looking down at New City from the Low Tor parking lot trying to stay warm with my girlfriend of the month as a light snowfall begins. The warm glow of the radio on the dashboard provided a light show to accompany TALK TO ME, as we wonder what to do next (and what not to do next).

There is one song where I'm swimming to the raft at New City Park Lake after dark, when you're not supposed to, to meet a potential new girlfriend. We climb on deck and she whispers the lyrics in my ear.

And that song I listened to when my father let me take the car out after dark by myself for my very first time of night driving. When the song was over I pushed another button on the radio and the same song played on the next station, and then the next. What are the odds?

Some of the music reminds me of taking Sandra to the prom, my poor, lost friend who left us way too early. I'll never forget your laugh, Sandra. There are some songs I just can't listen to anymore.

IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 7 The music was always there with us. It's still with me. Like that song you can't stop singing that's driving you crazy? Try two thousand of them. I still have all the 45s but I can't play 45s anymore. That's okay. I don't have to, because they're all playing on an endless loop inside my head.

QUESTION FOR “HOARDERS” REALITY TV SHOW PRODUCERS: So what do you do with two thousand 45rpm records too scratchy to listen to anymore from too many tear- filled, locked-in-the-bedroom, repeated playings?

There has always been a sense, a very strong sense, that just as before, when we started our lives as adults and we left behind six carefree years of Clarkstown Junior Senior High School, that now, as the end approaches, we will be privileged to walk those halls to renew those old friendships, say “Thank you” to our teachers, relive some of those adventures, laugh again, and listen to our music before it's time to go.

I’d like to think that is really going to happen someday. I’ll say thank you to Miss Hicks for demanding academic excellence, and to Mr. D’Innocenzo for bringing World History to life, to Mr. Hanley for forcing me to read THE SCARLET LETTER. I’ll stop by and say thanks to Mrs. Korn and Miss Gura for getting me through math, and Mrs. Martz and Miss Palermo for making us laugh, and to Coach Morrow for believing in us to the very last seconds of the game.

As I walk those halls, a big Hollywood movie set will open up to reveal Doc Carney leading the school orchestra. The music swells while the chorus sings softly in the background, lest we forget:

Purple mountain, Distant Mountain Regal splendored sign, Sign of Love and Adoration, Clarkstown at thy shrine.

All the gold of sparkling water Gold of mountain sun, Gold our love for Alma Mater, These to us are one.

EPILOGUE #1: One of the last series of interviews I filmed in my erratic, forty-year career as a documentary filmmaker was with some Rock & Roll pioneers. One of them was in Sumter, South Carolina with Bill Pinkney, one of the founding members of one of my favorite groups, The Drifters.

The Drifters had a long history, with numerous personnel changes like Clyde McPhatter and Ben E. King. Pinkney sang with them in their early years on hits like WHITE CHRISTMAS, MONEY HONEY, and . He would later form his own Bill Pinkney's Drifters and tour for another fifty years.

After about two hours of on-camera interviewing, Pinkney, then about 80, was growing tired. I knew he only had one more answer in him. I asked him to recollect for me his most IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 8 memorable moment of his performing career. He paused only for a second, and I thought he was going to start crying. And then he told me something I think long and hard about every time I hear a Drifter's song.

He said in the mid-1950s, The Drifters were on a bus tour with about a half-dozen other groups traveling through the Deep South at a time when segregation was at its most vicious. He said segregation was so strictly enforced that when they stopped for meals, Buddy Holly would get off the bus and go into the restaurants and bring out sandwiches for them because they were not allowed inside.

Pinkney related that one day during that same tour the Drifters were playing at a State Fair in Texas. The segregation laws were so strict they actually had put up a chain-link fence which ran down the middle of the audience to keep the white and black kids separated.

He said when The Drifters got up to sing, the teen audience loved the music so much they became so excited that they tore down the fence and started dancing together, forgetting for just a few moments at least, the laws and hatred that separated them. Pinkney concluded the interview by saying, “I'd like to think our music had contributed in some small way to the Civil Rights Movement that was just beginning to become active.”

Pinkney died on July 4, 2007, in a Daytona Beach hotel the night before he was to perform as part of The Drifters touring group. It would have marked his 54th year of one-night stands as a Drifter.

EPILOGUE #2: Sometimes you get lucky in life. Over the past forty years, I have been fortunate enough to meet many of the singers I've spent hours listening to. I've had the opportunity to film their concerts for television and done sit-down interviews with them on-camera. Vinnie Burns and I had lunch with Al Green in Memphis, but that's a story for another time. I've been able to tape two Beach Boys concerts ten years apart along with Neil Sedaka, Connie Francis, B.B. King, Sly and the Family Stone, The Moody Blues, Eddie Money, Marshall Tucker Band, Alice Cooper, Jimmy Buffett, Hank Williams, Jr., Wynton Marsalis, Frankie Avalon, Wayne Cochran, Mike Pinera/Blues Image, Bobby Vee, Tommy Roe, Chrissie Hynde and The Pretenders, and Roger McGuinn, founder of the Byrds.

And yes, I got to film a concert by The Drifters in one of their last performances at The Florida State Fair in Tampa in 2005. That night, as The Drifters sang, I am happy to report there was no chain-link fence down the middle of the audience and everyone danced together.

IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 9

APPENDIX #1:

FRANK'S PERSONAL PRE-BEATLES JUKEBOX:

FOR MOM & DAD: MOCKINGBIRD HILL-Patti Page OLD CAPE COD-Patti Page RUDOLPH, THE RED-NOSED REINDEER-Gene Autry HOW HIGH THE MOON-Les Paul & Mary Ford

PIONEERS: All Chuck Berry All Little Richard All Fats Domino All Ray Charles

DOO-WOP: IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT-Five Satins EARTH ANGEL-The Penguins TONIGHT, TONIGHT-The MelloKings THOSE BUT GOODIES-Little Caesar and the Romans

GIRL GROUPS: BE MY BABY-The Ronettes THERE'S NO OTHER LIKE MY BABY-The Crystals ONE FINE DAY-The Chiffons MAYBE-The Chantels ANGEL BABY-Rosy and the Originals PHIL SPECTOR'S CHRISTMAS ALBUM

GUY GROUPS: THIS I SWEAR-The Skyliners COME GO WITH ME/WHISPERING BELLS-The Dell Vikings WHEN MY LITTLE GIRL IS SMILIN', PLEASE STAY-The Drifters MARLENA-The Four Seasons DARLING LORRAINE-The Knockouts YOU WERE MINE-The Fireflies

CROONERS: SEA OF LOVE-Phil Phillips and the Twilights YOU BETTER MOVE ON-Arthur Alexander I'VE BEEN GOOD TO YOU-Smokey Robinson EVERY LITTLE BREATH I TAKE-Gene Pitney STAY-Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs

TWISTERS: TWIST & SHOUT-The Isley Brothers QUARTER TO THREE-U.S. Bonds

IT WILL STAND: The music of our youth © Frank Eberling 12.0 011414 10

PEPPERMINT TWIST (Forget about Part I, flip it over to Part II) -Joey Dee and the Starlighters

ROCKERS: PARTY DOLL-Buddy Knox PEGGY SUE-Buddy Holly IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR-Wilson Pickett HEY, BABY- LOVERS WHO WANDER-Dion

MOTOWN: STUBBORN KINDA FELLA-Marvin Gaye HEAT WAVE-Martha and the Vandellas PLEASE, MR. POSTMAN-The Marvelettes

WAILERS: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE-James Brown DON'T YOU JUST KNOW IT-Huey Piano Smith & The Clowns SHOUT-The Isley Brothers IF YOU NEED ME-Wilson Pickett NEW ORLEANS/SCHOOL IS OUT-Gary U.S. Bonds IT WILL STAND-The Showmen

Oh, and one last thing.

“SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME”

(You know who you are).