Column 119: The Hits of 1957
Simpler times, better times.

When it comes to pop music, it was all about love in 1957. There was no “why me?” mourning and personal despair, no self-reflective self-important aggrandizements. No gnashing of teeth and clenched fists held to the sky. Certainly no calling out of personal demons — yours or theirs. No dopey political tripe or nuanced hidden (or obvious) messages that reflected sad and/or bitter images of Our Broken World.

And certainly no irony.

The music of 1957 was laser-targeted (before there were lasers) directly and solely at one subject and one subject alone, with utmost sincerity and without hang-ups and hard-ons (in fact, fully clothed, with both feet on the floor at all times, please. Thank you.).

A couple weeks ago I submerged myself in the music of 1957 in an effort to capture the mood of the era. The reason: My parents’ 50th wedding anniversary and the party held to celebrate their unbelievable achievement. The fact that my mother put up with my father for that many years is an unmatched testament to the potential of human tolerance as well as her lack of common sense (You know I’m just kidding, folks. Really.).

Because I write about music and because I know how to use iTunes, I was placed in charge of gathering the appropriate collection of songs for the soirée. The goal was to create as much of a mood as one could within the fluorescent-lit linoleum-tiled confines of the St. John the Baptist reception hall in Ft. Calhoun.

Google was my first move. Picking up the phone and calling my parents was the second. I ran down the list of hit-makers of ’57 to see who they liked, didn’t like or simply recognized.

Quickly cast aside was The Bobbettes (Huh?), Pat Boone (Uh, no) and Elvis. Back then you were either an Elvis person or you weren’t, and my parents didn’t seem like Elvis people to me. I don’t remember hearing many Elvis records growing up; instead, there was lots of Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass.

Other casualties of memory loss were Jill Corey (“Love Me to Pieces”), The Dell-Vikings (“Come Go With Me”), The Hilltoppers (“Marianne”), Danny and the Juniors (“At the Hop”) and on and on. Reading off those names was met by silence on the other end of the line.

How about Perry Como? Oh yes, they liked him, and Nat King Cole, Andy Williams, Sinatra and Johnny Mathis. By the end of our conversation, a solid list of artists revealed itself, along with a new and different image of my parents and the simple, innocent, and fun world that they grew up in. The play list looked like this:

Perry Como, “Just Born (To Be Your Baby)”
The Ames Bros., “Melodie D’Amour (Melody of Love)”
Perry Como, “Round and Round”
Nat King Cole, “Send for Me”
Johnny Mathis, “It’s Not for Me to Say”
Andy Williams, “I Like Your Kind of Love”
Sonny James, “Young Love”
The Rays, “Silhouettes”
Andy Williams, “Butterfly”
Johnny Mathis, “Chances Are”
Sam Cooke, “You Send Me”
The Crickets, “That’ll Be the Day”
Patti Page, “Old Cape Cod”
Billy Williams, “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down And Right Myself a Letter”
Jimmie Rodgers, “Sweeter Than Wine”
Harry Belafonte, “Jamaica Farewell”
The Everly Brothers, “Bye Bye Love”
Louie Armstrong, “A Fine Romance”
Frank Sinatra, “All the Way”

The music generally fell into two categories: hip finger-snappers like Williams, Como, Rodgers and The Everly Brothers that you could imagine playing in the background as my dad waved my mom to jump on into the convertible we’re headed to Tiner’s for a shake; and the sweet, romantic, head-on-your-shoulder slow-dancers like Patti Page, The Rays, Sam Cooke, Sinatra and of course Johnny Mathis. Little did they know that the silly grin that Mathis was wearing was meant for a guy, not a gal, but then again, gay people didn’t exist in 1957. At least not in popular culture.

The one thing every song had in common was its dedication to true love, pure and simple, for each other, completely selfless. It was a time before the Beatles and the Stones, when rock ‘n’ roll was just emerging from the underground, its R&B roots firmly planted decades earlier in a hidden black world.

Imagine what kids 50 years from now will choose to represent the current era of popular music: The Fray, Arcade Fire, Fall Out Boy, Justin Timberlake, Notorious B.I.G., Gwen Stefani. Big, boasting, over-sexed, self-important blow-hards who wouldn’t know love if it kneed them in the bling-bling. It’s enough to make you scratch your head and wish for a second coming of Como.

Well, the 1957 CD did its job, providing the necessary background music while relatives and friends ate wedding cake and talked about the old days. The better days? Maybe, though there are still plenty of good days ahead for my folks, for my family, for all of us.

Happy anniversary, mom and dad.