I was born in Maryland and spent my first thirty years living there, first in the Appalachian Mountains, then on the Eastern Shore, and later in suburban Washington. After a year in South Carolina, I moved to Georgia in 1977. I soon met another park ranger who worked in Florida. She was a wonderful woman who became my best friend. then my wife, and soon the mother of our three children. I spent over eleven years working in the historic city of Savannah, Georgia, and on the moss-draped sea islands nearby before moving to Atlanta.. In 2007, I retired from the National Park Service and a career dedicated to preserving and interpreting resources and themes in the cultural and natural history of the United States. It was a most rewarding experience. Today, I enjoy living in the rolling hills and woods of the Appalachian Piedmont east of Atlanta.
Today is the 146th anniversary of the birth of Winston Churchill. The 19th century American literary icon, Ralph Waldo Emerson, said "there is properly no history, only biography." You'll get some argument about that statement these days. On the other hand, in the last century and a half there is Churchill. I think we would be hard-pressed to find a better illustration of history as biography in that time frame.
For more on information on Winston Churchill go here. And here, thanks to Steven Hayward at Powerline, is a teachable moment from the great political philosopher, Leo Strauss, on hearing of Churchill's death in 1965. In addition, we cannot forget Churchill as a historian. He was both an extraordinary observer and compelling writer. New readers should start their journey with My Early Life: A Roving Commission, first published in 1930. I have a feeling it will not be their last volume by Churchill.
Churchill was a master of the English language but even he struggled for the right words to both describe the reality his countrymen faced at the hands of Luftwaffe bombers during the the Blitz of 1940 and 1941 as well as rally them to endure what he knew would be their darkest hour:
The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be freed and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new dark age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves, that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, This was their finest hour.
Aside from the monarchy - Queen Elizabeth in particular - if ever there is an individual who personifies England in the modern era, it is Churchill.
Sources
Photos and Illustrations:public domain photos, Imperial War Museums
Temperatures in the low 40's, brisk northwest winds, and a low overcast make for what I imagine is a perfect St. Andrew's Day for most Scots. Thus, I was very pleased to unfurl the St. Andrew's Cross - the flag of Scotland - at our home to honor both the country and it's patron saint.
There was no feasting or dancing for me today but I did enjoy thinking of the many years my wife and I attended the Clan Robertson and Clan Donnachaidhceilidh following the last day of the Stone Mountain Highland Games held annually in mid-October. Our gathering lasted deep into the evening and always featured a top shelf Scotch whisky tasting, plenty of dancing and singing, a few pipers pipping, harps and fiddles, and tables groaning with food, including the occasional haggis which often left a few guests groaning as well. At its height well over 100 guests attended, many of them from the farthest reaches of the Scottish diaspora.
It has been fifteen years since I last attended the games and an afterparty. Much has changed over that time as the main event approaches its fiftieth anniversary. For one, the famous tattoo that attracted pipe bands from around the world fell victim to high costs and the loss of its venue. In addition the organization has struggled somewhat to build and sustain interest in Scottish history and ancestry among younger people who will determine its future. As for me I'm quite content to let the St. Andrew's banner grace the entrance to the house and dream about renewed friendships, great music, and those wonderful Scotch eggs I enjoyed on so many Sunday evenings in Stone Mountain.
Some day you will be old enough to read fairy tales
C.S. Lewis
I was introduced to the mind of C. S. (Clive Staples) Lewis through a gift from my best friend. He gave me a copy of The Four Loves as medication for some conflicting developments in a relationship with Marti, the girl of my dreams at the time. Eventually, Marti moved on and met a professor of English at UNC Chapel Hill. I was left with a life-long literary relationship with Lewis and can only trust that Marti found equal tenure with the prof.
C.S. Lewis, one of the last century's leading scholars, novelists, and Christian apologists, was born on this day in 1898. Many readers likely know his name and even more know some of his work - The Screwtape Letters, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Space Trilogy, Mere Christianity, Surprised By Joy - but many may not be familiar with the depth and breadth of his literary accomplishments.
C.S. Lewis National Portrait Gallery, London
Immersed the the world of the university scholar where he was a close friend and colleague of J. R.R. Tolkein, Lewis enjoyed the community but also appreciated his privacy. For that reason, very few interviews and recordings of the man survive. One tape still with us is a fifteen-minute talk he gave over BBC Radio during a three part series of presentations between 1942 and 1944. The recording reveals the great warmth, friendliness, and integrity of the man.
The talks soon appeared as three separate books shortly after World War II. In 1952, the series was edited into a single book, Mere Christianity. It's now considered a masterpiece in Christian apologetics. If you cannot enjoy a Lewis book you simply haven't read enough of his work. And there is enough to accommodate readers as his Wikipedia bibliography has almost eighty entries of poetry, fiction, and non-fiction. Choose...and enjoy.
Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither
To see a world in a grain of sand And heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour
from Auguries of Innocence, William Blake, 1803
On this day in 1757 the British artist and writer, William Blake, was born in London. He is without a doubt my favorite anarchist. He helps me dream.
In his own time he was so eccentric his neighbors and friends thought he was a madman. As an engraver and illustrator he was caught between the decline of the guilds and the rise of industrialization. It was a time when men saw the value of their labors swept away from the cottage and into the factory under the watchful eye of the manager. For workers, the loss of autonomy, the shift in control and production, and the helplessness in the face of change led to a revolt against the Age of Reason and a rage against technologies it spawned. Two centuries later he would be recognized as both one whose vision, imagination and sensitivity were unmatched in the age of Romanticism, and a truly unique influence in the history of the Western world.
There is one certainty about Blake's work and that is its complexity. He is by far one of the most interesting visionaries to come out of the West and its traditions. I hope you will take time to examine him and his extraordinary contributions to our experience. To explore his work appropriately is beyond the intent of this blog and capability of its author. For readers who want to learn more about Blake, to me there's no finer work available than Jacob Bronowski's A Man Without A Mask, published in 1944, and it's expanded version, William Blake and the Age of Revolution, published in 1972.
William Blake Thomas Phillips, English, 1807
I have learned much from the artist and philosopher, William Blake, in an effort to balance my life between intellect and emotion. So far it's been a beautiful, productive, and fascinating journey. These works have been a part of that experience:
In the following illustration Blake depicts his character, Urizen, [You rising] as reason shaping the world and its experience. This engraving is also interpreted as God the Father [and often God the Son] as divining existence. It is a prime example of the complex and often confounding world of Blake's imagination.
The Ancient of Days William Blake, 1793
Here Blake depicts Isaac Newton [and the Age of Reason] at the bottom of the sea shaping (the dividers, once more) the world of humankind on the earth. Newton has turned his back on the organic beauty of God's natural world.
Newton William Blake, 1795
Here, the Angel of Peace descends forcibly out of heaven illustrating God's reason (the dividers) brought into the world in the form of his Son to reconcile Nature (the recline female nude) and a redeemed humanity
The Descent of Peace William Blake, ca. 1815
One of Blake's most familiar pieces is his preface to Milton A Poem. The preface says much about Blake's philosophy opposing the Age of Reason as embodied in Greek and Roman thought and the dangers a reliance on intellect can bring to a world based equally on emotion. Furthermore, the preface is a perfect illustration of Blake's religious mysticism as well as his veneration of Milton.
The stolen and perverted writings of Homer and Ovid, of Plato and Cicero, which all men ought to contemn, are set up by artifice against the Sublime of the Bible; but when the New Age is at leisure to pronounce, all will be set right, and those grand works of the more ancient, and consciously and professedly Inspired men will hold their proper rank, and the Daughters of Memory shall become the Daughters of Inspiration, Shakspeare and Milton were curb'd by the general malady and infection from the silly Greek and Latin slaves of the sword. Rouse up, O Young Men of the New Age! Set your foreheads against the ignorant hirelings! For we have hirelings in the camp, the Court, and the University, who would, if they could, for ever depress mental, and prolong corporeal war. Painters! on you I call. Sculptors! Architects! suffer not the fashionable fools to depress your powers by the prices they pretend to give for contemptible works, or the expensive advertising boasts that they make of such works; believe Christ and His Apostles that there is a class of men whose whole delight is in destroying. We do not want either Greek or Roman models if we are but just and true to our own Imaginations, those Worlds of Eternity in which we shall live for ever, in Jesus our Lord.
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills.
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
Would to God that all the Lord's people were Prophets. Numbers xi, ch. 26
Readers may be more familiar with Blake's poem through this medium:
As this tribute comes to a close, I'd like to reference one of Blake's poems that virtually all children read before the end of their middle schools years a half century ago. It's remarkably simple in form yet its questions brim with imagination and wonder. I so hope that "The Tyger" is still read and heard by young students so they can remember its message over their varied lifetimes.
Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies,
Burnt the fire in thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger, Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
William Blake John Linnell, English, 1863
He who binds himself to a joy
Doth the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity's sunrise
Eternity, William Blake, 1803
Sources
Photos and Illustrations: wikipedia.com Blake portrait, National Portrait Gallery, Washington, D.C. Newton, Tate Gallery, London, U.K.blakearchive.org/Blake
Text: wikipedia.com, Blake entry blakearchive.org/Blake bartleby.com/235/284.html Jacob Bronowski, A Man Without A Mask, Seeker and Warburg, London, 1944
Here is a prayer for thanksgiving by Martin Luther...
God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, You looked upon all that You created and declared it good. Grant that we, this day, might regard Your creation with the same esteem and appreciation, seeing You at work in every daily operation. Help us to give thanks as we recognize Your loving work in all abundant blessings. Most of all, let us see not only Your creation, but also its redemption, through Jesus Christ. Amen
... a song of thanksgiving arranged by John Rutter...
Eternal God, we give you thanks for music, Blest gift from heaven to all your servants here on earth: In time of joy a crown, in sorrow consolation; Companion through our days of tears and mirth.
We give you thanks for every sound of beauty: For sweetest harmony that echoes in our hearts, For melodies that soar on high like birds at morning, For voice and instrument in all their parts.
As we are blest, so may our gift bless others: May hearts be touched and spirits lifted up anew. Let music draw together those who live as strangers, Bring joy to those we love, in thankfulness true.
And when at last we come into your kingdom, All discord over and all earthly labour done, Then sound and silence yield before one equal music, And with the Giver shall our souls be one.
...and a final wish for the day from our house to yours...
Only two days before Thanksgiving and still looking for something to accompany the bird? May I suggest a traditional Maryland holiday dish that has been a part of many special dinners dating from my highchair days. It's Skipjack Oyster Dressing. The official Maryland recipe we've used over the last twenty years has been a hit even among most doubters, but being oysters, you'll always have some holdouts. They'll never know what they're missing.
One of our guests asked about the term, "skipjack." Skipjacks, the state boat of Maryland, are shallow-draft, sailing vessels developed on the Chesapeake Bay for harvesting oysters. They are the last working boats under sail in the United States, according to the Maryland State Archives. There's also a brief entry about them on Wikipedia, including a list of active boats. I first saw them in the early '50s. At that time, there were about 100 working the Chesapeake.
Hope you enjoy a taste from the Bay. If your menu is set or you need some time to think about it there's always Christmas dinner.
November 18, marks the 111th anniversary of the birth of John Herndon Mercer (1909-1976). For fans of the Great American Songbook, this is a significant event. Mercer won four Academy Awards for Best Original Song and had another twelve nominations. Indeed he was quite a music master.
Born into wealth in Savannah, Mercer 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 musical career that would produce more than 1500 published songs, a few thousand more unpublished songs and song fragments, scores of poems and prose pieces, an unfinished autobiography, and a major chapter in the history of American music in the twentieth century.
In Mercer's Savannah, a rich Southern culture blended with a diverse and exciting port city. He spent his childhood fascinated by train and ship whistles, and the 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. By his teen years, he loved hearing the dance and jazz bands every summer at the famous Tybrisa Pavilion on nearby Tybee Island. He also began writing songs and skits for his student productions at Woodberry Forest School in Virginia.
When the family business failed in the late '20s, any hope of returning to Woodberry or attending college dimmed. He grew bored at home and 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 lyric:
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. Her name was Ginger Meehan and she was Bing Crosby's squeeze at the time. Eventually, Mercer won her over and they married in 1931 after Johnny secured a staff job writing lyrics. The following year, his persistent work paid off when he partnered with Hoagy Carmichael, already well-known for his sensational song, Stardust. After several months, the collaboration produced Lazybones, Mercer's first hit song. It was full of black dialect and all the stereotypical perceptions of the day.
By the time Lazybones became popular, the New York music industry was in full transition thanks, in part, to the rapidly growing film industry in California. Films needed songs and with his prospects cooling in New York, Mercer traveled to Hollywood where he met his old friend, Bing Crosby, who had already made the transition to the West. The early years were a challenge for Mercer, but that changed in 1936. That year, Crosby offered to sing one of Mercer's songs in the film, Rhythm on the Range. The film wasn't much. The song was a runaway hit:
I'm An Old Cowhand words and music by Johnny Mercer
I'm and old cowhand From the Rio Grande, But my legs ain't bowed And my cheeks ain't tanned. I'm a cowboy who never saw a cow, Never roped a steer 'cause I don't know how, And I sure ain't fixin' to start in now. Yippy I O Ki Ay, Yippy I O Ki Ay.
. . .
And I learned to ride 'Fore I learned to stand, I'm a ridin' fool who is up to date, I know ev'ry trail in the Lone Star State, 'Cause I ride the range in a Ford V-Eight
. . .
And I come to town Just to hear the band, I know all the songs that the cowboys know, 'Bout the big corral where the doagies go, 'Cause I learned them all on the radio.
. . .
Where the West is wild 'Round the borderland, Where the buffalo roam around the Zoo, And the Indians make you a rug or two, And the old Bar X is a Bar B Q. Yippy I O Ki Ay, Yippy I O Ki Ay.
I think Mercer came into perfect form with this one. With a little help from his pal, Crosby, his name became associated with songwriting among Hollywood's shakers and makers. In these early years, he struggled through a few flop movies, but he learned the ins and outs of Hollywood, and continued writing poetry to music.
Mercer went on to great fame after I'm An Old Cowhand. Movies, records, and radio brought his folksy, common sense, "free and easy, that's my style" personality into homes across America and made him a beloved next door neighbor. Mercer could be serious with a lyric, but he was equally capable of making us laugh at our selves and our circumstances. Here are two outstanding examples:
I'd say almost every American can hum the title line of Hooray for Hollywood, but it's the rest of lyric that really sparkles. Here's the song as it appeared in Busby Berkeley's 1937 blockbuster hit, Hollywood Hotel. If you don't want to miss any words, the lyric is below.
Hooray For Hollywood
words by Johnny Mercer music by Richard A. Whiting
Hooray for Hollywood! That screwy bally hooey Hollywood, Where any office boy or young mechanic Can be a panic, With just a good looking pan, And any bar maid Can be a star maid, If she dances with or without a fan,
Hooray for Hollywood! Where you're terrific if you are even good, Where anyone at all from Shirley Temple To Aimee Semple Is equally understood, Go out and try your luck, You might be Donald Duck! Hooray for Hollywood!
Hooray for Hollywood! That phoney super Coney Hollywood, They come from Chilicothes and Paducahs With their bazookas To get their names up in lights, All armed with photos from local rotos, With their hair in ribbons and legs in tights,
Hooray for Hollywood! You may be homely in your neighborhood, But if you think that you can be an actor, See Mister Factor, He'd make a monkey look good. Within a half an hour, You'll look like Tyrone Power! Hooray for Hollywood!
Over three decades Mercer wrote the lyrics to hundreds of songs, collaborating with the country's top music writers, including Harold Arlen, Bernie Hannigan, Hoagy Carmichael, Harry Warren, Gene DePaul, Henry Mancini, Jerome Kern, Rube Bloom, and Matty Malneck. In 1971, Mercer appeared in what he called a "parlor evening" performance as part of the 92nd Street Y's Lyrics and Lyricists Series. At the end of the program, Mercer delivered an unforgettable medley of his "bread and butter" songs. I'd say most songwriters and performers would be pleased to have five songs in such a list. Mercer had twenty-nine. Regardless of your age and interest in popular music, you may be surprised at how many of these songs you recognize:
Lazybones (1933), music by Hoagy Carmichael
Goody, Goody (1936), music by Marty Malneck
Too Marvelous For Words (1937), music by Richard A. Whiting
Jeepers Creepers (1938), music by Harry Warren
Satin Doll (1958), written with Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn
You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby (1938), music by Harry Warren
That Old Black Magic (1943), music by Harold Arlen
Accentuate the Positive (1944) music by Harold Arlen
Fools Rush In (1940), music by Rube Bloom
I Remember You (1942), music by Victor Schertzinger
Day In - Day Out (1939), music by Rube Bloom
Dearly Beloved (1942), music by Jerome Kern
Come Rain or Come Shine (1946), music by Harold Arlen
Tangerine (1942), music by Victor Schertzinger
Hooray For Hollywood (1938), music by Richard A. Whiting
Laura (1945), music by David Raksin
Dream (1944), words and music by Johnny Mercer
On the Atcheson, Topeka and the Santa Fe (1946, Academy Award for Best Music, Original Song), music by Harry Warren
Something's Gotta Give (1954), words and music by Johnny Mercer
One For My Baby (1943), music by Harold Arlen
In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening (1951, Academy Award for Best Music, Original Song), music by Hoagy Carmichael
Skylark (1941), music by Hoagy Carmichael
Autumn Leaves (1950), music by Joseph Kosma
I Wanna Be Around (1962), words and music by Johnny Mercer and Sadie Vimmerstedt
Blues in the Night (1941), music by Harold Arlen
Charade (1963), music by Henry Mancini
Summer Wind (1965), music by Henry Mayer
Moon River (1961, Academy Award for Best Music, Original Song), music by Henry Mancini
Days of Wine and Roses (1962, Academy Award for Best Music, Original Song), music by Henry Mancini
That's plenty of "bread and butter" on one man's plate, but we need to keep in mind that he had seven more songs nominated for an Academy Award that never made it into the medley. What a talent.
If you're curious to learn even more about Mercer, your minimal immersion requires three books, one website, and one audio disk.
THE BOOKS:
A good starting point is, Johnny Mercer: The Life, Times and Song Lyrics of Our Huckleberry Friend. It was collected and edited by television producer Bob Bach and Ginger Mercer, Johnny's widow. There's nothing scholarly about it. It is simply a nostalgic look at Mercer's career through photos, letters, notes, sheet music covers, lyrics, and tributes. Photos are always worth their thousand words, and the book gives readers the chance to study the lyrics to almost 100 Mercer songs. One highlight is the publication of the texts of four Christmas greeting cards. In two of them, Johnny worked his lyrical magic using all the surnames on his card list. The book concludes with incomplete lists of his published songs and motion picture contributions.
Philip Furia takes a more scholarly approach to Mercer in his book, Skylark: The Life and Times of Johnny Mercer. This book is a well-balanced treatment of a life characterized by great success as well as trouble and torment. It is well known that Mercer could be not only a gentleman and generous friend when sober, but also a vicious drunk who frequently sent roses to his victims the day after his verbal assaults. But Furia is at his best analyzing the process of songwriting, devoting many pages to a single song, and detailing the origin and evolution of the lyric. If you want to skip the nostalgia and go straight to reading a very good biography, Furia has written your book.
Gene Lees was a music biographer, lyricist and jazz historian who was a personal friend of Mercer's beginning around 1950. He brings more of a Hollywood insider perspective to the Mercer story, and does so with an entertaining, informal style. If this is what you look for in a biography, then Portrait of Johnny: The Life and Times of John Herndon Mercer is your book. The book doesn't have Furia's tight organization, but it is full of personal recollections and opinions from scores of close friends and associates. The high point for me is the author's extensive use of direct quotes from Mercer's unpublished autobiography. On the other hand, Lees gives his readers almost too much detail on Ginger Mercer as the terror in her family's life. Some readers may say the book is more of a layman's psychological analysis than a true biography. Regardless, it provides a nice balance to Furia's book in spite of the duplication.
THE WEBSITE:
If you want to use the Internet as a source of information on Johnny Mercer, there is no better site than the Johnny Mercer Foundation/Educational Archives. The home page may look a bit plain, but don't let that fool you; the links open windows to hundreds of pages of media.
THE AUDIO CD:
You can find scores of audio CDs featuring the songwriting and singing talent of Johnny Mercer. For me there is one essential CD and an "honorable mention." The essential is An Evening With Johnny Mercer, the 92nd Street Y Lyrics and Lyricists program Mercer did in 1971. I think it's a great hour to spend with the man and his music.
The "honorable mention" is Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Johnny Mercer Songbook. Fitzgerald's brilliant eight-album Songbook Series was recorded between 1956 and 1964, at the height of her vocal quality. The Mercer tribute is included here because of her near-perfect diction - you do want to hear the words - the fact that Mercer was the only lyricist honored in the Songbook Series.
I have provided you with some details about Mercer's life, his contribution to American popular music, and best of all, several examples of his words and music. In addition, for those interested in learning more about him, I listed several sources in a variety of formats. There's plenty more to know. If you do pick up a book or check out a website, you'll find that Mercer was both the source of the idea and a founding member of Capitol Records. You'll also read that he was extraordinarily generous. You'll also find out that, almost throughout his life, the fame and fortune came at great personal cost. That seems to be the rule. Still, Mercer's gap-toothed smile and performance talent brought pleasure to millions of Americans during the mid-century.
It has now been more than a generation since Mercer's death in 1976. He may be gone, but that mountain of music and the ideas he left behind are very much alive and well. Mercer stays with Great American Songbook and jazz enthusiasts through the singers and organizations that keep his music and legacy alive. Here is a list of past and present singers
THE SINGERS:
Margaret Whiting (Long associated with Mercer as a performer and family friend, she was a most significant individual promoter of Mercer's music late in her life.)
That just about covers my Mercer tribute for 2013. I want to end with three favorite Mercer lyrics that have become embedded in our culture as Great American songs and jazz standards over their sixty years. They are:
Midnight Sun
Lionel Hampton and Sonny Burke wrote Midnight Sun in 1954 as an instrumental and had a big hit with it. The story goes that Mercer heard the tune on the freeway heading to his office. By the time he got there, he had the lyric. Ella Fitzgerald has "owned" this song for fifty years.
Your lips were like a red and ruby chalice warmer than the summer night The clouds were like an alabaster palace rising to a snowy height Each star its own aurora borealis suddenly you held me tight I could see the midnight sun.
Early Autumn
Early Autumn was composed in 1949 by Ralph Burns and Woody Herman.
When an early autumn walks the land and chills the breeze And touches with her hand the summer trees, Perhaps you'll understand what memories I own. There's a dance pavilion in the rain all shuttered down, A winding lane all russet brown A frosty window pane shows me a town grown lonely.
Laura
In 1944, the film, Laura, appeared with a theme song composed by David Raskin. The next year Mercer added the haunting lyrics.
Laura is the face in the misty lights, Footsteps that you hear down the hall. The laugh that floats on a summer night That you can never quite recall.
And you see Laura on the train that is passing through, Those eyes how familiar they seem. She gave your very first kiss to you That was Laura but she's only a dream.
If you do pick up a book or check out a website, you'll find that Mercer was quite a diverse personality. As a lyricist, composer, performer, businessman, and philanthropist, he shaped much of the American popular music industry for forty years, beginning in the mid 1930s. You'll also find that, almost throughout his life, the fame and fortune came at great personal cost. That seems to be the rule. Still, Mercer's gap-toothed smile and performance talent brought pleasure to millions of Americans during the mid-century. He's still with us in so many ways.
So happy birthday, Johnny. You're just about too marvelous for words.
References: Books by Bach and Mercer, Furia, and Lees; Johnny Mercer Foundation; Georgia State University Archives, and The Complete Lyrics of Johnny Mercer, by Kimball, Day. Kreuger and Davis.
Veterans Day began as Armistice Day, marking the end of World War I on "the eleventh day of the eleventh hour of the eleventh month" of 1918. Today, this holiday honors the men and women who have defended the United States through service in the Army, Marine Corps, Navy, Air Force, and Coast Guard.
On this day I think of the sacrifices made by many friends who served in Vietnam and of all those who have served in the defense of the United States. In particular I think of family and the service of a great uncle in World War I and two uncles in World War II.
My Great Uncle George, standing on the left with his fire brigade in Jacksonville, Florida, served as a lieutenant in the U.S. Army in World War I, the Great War. To him, this day was Armistice Day. I was ten when he died and didn't know him, but much of what he was as a veteran is present in my house. His portrait hangs just off our foyer. The pocket Bible he carried is in a keepsake cabinet nearby along with his military issue binoculars and a silver-plated swagger stick - a gift from his unit - made from machine gun shells casings and the Seal of the U.S. Army. The last item is one he never saw, but it summarized everything he did as a soldier. That item is the flag that covered his coffin. To my knowledge it's still in the original triangle fold made the day he was buried over sixty years ago.
The other family veterans from the world war era I knew very well. Uncle Hollis, better known as "Red," and Uncle Charles, both served in the Pacific during World War II. In 1943-44, Red was assigned to Barber's Point Naval Air Station in Hawaii while his brother-in-law, Charles, served at Pearl Harbor. The facilities were a mere five miles apart but almost one year passed before they knew they were neighbors. On hearing the news, they resolved to meet for a photograph at the first opportunity. Here's that photo, taken at Waikiki with Red (l) and Charles (r) together at last.
Both returned safely to their Potomac Valley hometowns in western Maryland but a declining economy in the region forced them to relocate to better job opportunities. Red moved his family to Ohio where he had a very successful career with Goodyear. Charles took his family to the booming oil industry in Houston, Texas, and where he prospered in real estate management. Both are gone now, along with their wives, Edith and Dorothy. All four of them were fine examples of the Greatest Generation.
I never experienced military service and will never know how it shapes a person inside and out but I do know that every veteran has paid a very personal price that enables us to enjoy life in this bountiful nation. On November 11 - Armistice Day or Veterans Day - we should take some time to remember those who have served their country and its people. I offer up to all of them my sincerest admiration and thanks on this day and every day.
November's cool breezes and infinitely clear blue skies signal the start of an annual ritual in Savannah. It's time to start the punch. And so it is as many families, old and new, begin their preparations for Christmas, New Year's Eve , and Twelfth Night entertaining by setting aside a batch of Chatham Artillery Punch. It is by far the city's most historic and memorable cocktail.
In 1977 I was introduced to Chatham Artillery Punch at the Lion's Den in the DeSoto Hotel in Savannah. It reminded me of rumtopf, only it was better. Much better. The elite military unit for which it is named, one of the oldest in the nation, has a storied history of defending Georgia and the United States for over two centuries, including service in Iraq and Afghanistan. Today the unit serves as the 1st Battalion, 118th Field Artillery, Georgia Army National Guard. The punch always graces their celebration of Saint Barbara's Day and Christmas. I can think of no better way to end a traditional celebration of Christmas in Georgia than with a cup of this delicious, storied beverage.
In my opinion, the following recipe - derived from several formulations and an archival source that shall remain nameless - captures the historic flavors nicely, although, I'm sure they varied over the years, depending on the ingredients at hand. (A Georgia National Guard newsletter noted that a pair of soldier's socks, the stockings of a soldier's wife, and sand from Iraq were added to the punch in 2006.)
Chatham Artillery Punch (25 servings)
1 quart of strong green tea (soak about 1/4 pound of tea for a day, then strain) Juice of 5 lemons 10 ounces brown sugar 1 quart Catawba wine (a muscadine wine may be easier to find and works as well) 1 quart Santa Cruz rum (use Virgin Islands style rum, light or dark) 1 pint brandy 1 pint dry gin (I like the flavorings in Bombay Sapphire) 1 pint rye whiskey (Bulleit 95 Rye Small Batch is a perfect choice) 1.5 pints Queen Anne cherries 1.5 pints pineapple chunks 1.5 quarts champagne
To prepare, sterilize a 5 gallon crock or similar vessel. Mix the tea and lemon juice, then dissolve the brown sugar and gently stir in all the alcohol except the champagne. Add the cherries and pineapple chunks carefully. Cover the crock tightly and put in a cool, dark place for at least one week, better yet two weeks or longer. Careful sampling is permitted to insure the fermentation process is working. To serve, pour the mixture carefully over a block of ice, add the champagne, and stir gently. Never refrigerate to cool ahead of serving or serve with ice cubes.
This is a deliciously smooth, flavorful and potent drink to be enjoyed responsibly in an appropriate setting. It is not for every party. Also keep in mind that the longer it ferments, the more powerful, deceptive and tasty it becomes. There is a point - say after two months - at which the punch becomes a lightly fruited rumtopf, and a perfect topping for ice cream or bundt. I suspect however that using it in Old Savannah as something other than a beverage would be a sacrilege.
Regardless of how you plan to enjoy Chatham Artillery Punch, know that your expense and anticipation will be rewarded. I once brewed a batch for eight weeks. It was legendary.
Allerheilegen (All Saints Day) Johann Koenig, 1599
On All Saints Day, Christians remember the faithful who have passed on to the glorious company of the saints in light. It has been observed since the 4th century after Christ and remains a Holy Day of Obligation in the Catholic Church. Over time, the original purpose of All Saints Day changed and, by the Middle Ages, "saints became the objects of prayers and petitions for merit before God." Seeing Christ "as the only source of forgiveness, [Martin Luther] cleansed the church of this abuse of the saints" but retained the holy day in the church calendar. He made his statement by nailing his 95 theses on the door of All Saints Church in Wittenburg, Germany, on October 31, 1517, ensuring that they would be seen by crowds of worshipers the following day. Today, the celebration of the beginning of the Reformation on October 31 sometimes overshadows All Saints Day in the Lutheran Church, but the days are often celebrated concurrently during Sunday worship.
Here is a prayer for today:
Almighty God, you have knit your people together in one Holy church, the body of Christ our Lord. Grant us grace to follow the example of your blessed saints in lives of faith and willing service and with them at last inherit the inexpressible joys that you have prepared for those who love you, through Jesus Christ our Lord...
And here is William Walsham How's hymn, "For All the Saints," sung to Ralph Vaughan Williams's beloved setting, Sine Nomine.
An here is an anthem for the day that is perhaps less familiar to Americans. The words are from the pen of the 17th century English minister and hymn writer, Isaac Watt, and sung to a setting by Sir Ernest Bullock,
