Johnny Mercer Birthday Celebration - Day One

This Tuesday, November 18, marks the 99th anniversary of the birth of John Herndon (Johnny) Mercer (1909-1976) . For fans of the Great American Songbook, this is a significant event. Every day this week, I'll be posting something about this sentimental gentleman from Georgia who became one of America's greatest folk poets. (Photo/book link)

Born into wealth in Savannah, he often recounted how his Aunt Hattie hummed to him in his crib and "he hummed right back at her." It was the beginning of a career that would produce more than 1000 published songs and a major chapter in the history of American music in the twentieth century.

In Mercer's Savannah's, a rich Southern culture blended with a diverse and exciting port city. He spent his childhood fascinated by sounds and rhythms drifting from the black churches around town. He was thrilled by the chance to slip away from his mother's watchful eye and visit the black business district on West Broad Street - now MLK Boulevard - where he listened to race records. The family's summer home on the Vernon River, about ten miles south of town, immersed him in the natural world of Georgia's tidal creeks and salt marshes. In his teen years, he loved hearing the dance and jazz bands every summer at the famous Tybrisa Pavilion - lost to fire in 1967 - on Tybee Island. A musical career began to enter his mind.

When the family business failed in the late '20s, any hope of attending college dimmed, and Johnny shipped off to New York to become a Broadway performer. The demand for singers was weak, but he began tinkering with lyric writing when he wasn't singing or working odd jobs. Here is his first published song, complete with Gerard Butler pics for the women:


Lyrics are meant to be heard, but it's not always easy to appreciate them without the poetry on the page, so here is a sample of that early genius as work:

Out of Breath (1930)

lyrics by Johnny Mercer
music by Everette Miller

Mine's a hopeless case,
But there's one saving grace,
Anyone would feel as I do;
Out of breath and scared to death of you.
Love was first divined,
Then explored and defined,
Still the old sensation is new;
Out of breath and scared to death of you.
It takes all the strength that I can call to my command,
To hold your hand.
I would speak at length
About the love that should be made,
But I'm afraid.
Hercules and such
Never bothered me much,
All you have to do is say "Boo!"
Out of breath and scared to death of you.

Yes, it's pretty simple, comic stuff, but it had flashes of wordplay and bouncy rhythm. It was perfect for the Garrick Gaieties revue of 1930. One of the chorus girls left Johnny out of breath as well. That story and more tomorrow.