the Management.
My Backyard, Six Miles from the Cumberland River
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Way Down Below: Terraplane Blues
Several times during his life, I heard my Dad speak of a car that a young man in his small town owned back in the '30s. He described it with awe, as a special kind of powerful machine. It was called a Terraplane and was manufactured by the Hudson car company.
When I looked it up back in the day, I found Hudson had also manufactured a companion line called Essex through the '20s and early '30s, and the first Terraplanes in '32 - '33 bore this designation as well.
In my opinion, those from '36, 37, and '38 were on the ugly side, with bulbous bodies and ungainly looking grilles and fenders. But those from '32, '33, '34, and '35 were very nicely styled, with proportioned hoods and graceful flowing fender lines.
And like Dad remembered, Terraplanes were powerful and fast. Wiki says,
Their speed, light weight, and strength (all steel frame) made them legendary. If you were interested in fast cars, you knew about Hudson Terraplanes. Thus, these beautiful cars became a part of popular culture, including music.
Especially Blues music. Robert Johnson had obviously heard about these fast cars and he wrote a song about them, "Terraplane Blues." Well, not exactly about the car. You see, the song's ostensibly about a car, but it's also about a woman. The comparison between the two is extended over the whole song. In fancy literary parlance, this is called a conceit, or an extended metaphor. Back in the late '70s, early '80s I used to use this song as an example of that figure of speech in class sometimes.
Johnson sets up everything right away. He says, "Who's been driving my Terraplane for you since I been gone?" The woman is his "Terraplane" and somebody's been driving her since he's been away. he can tell somebody's been messin' round with his car (woman) because he flashes her lights and finds her horn won't even blow. He says there must be a short in her connection "way way down below."
Yup, something's definitely wrong, so he needs to "heist her hood" and check....Well, you get the picture.
The version of Johnson's "Terraplane Blues" I used in class was on a compilation vinyl album I bought in the bargain bin back in the late '70s, and the singer was bluesman Son House. That version isn't available on youtube but you can easily find the original by Johnson in their vast holdings.
And there's this version, by Roy Rogers.
Whoa Trigger!
When I looked it up back in the day, I found Hudson had also manufactured a companion line called Essex through the '20s and early '30s, and the first Terraplanes in '32 - '33 bore this designation as well.
In my opinion, those from '36, 37, and '38 were on the ugly side, with bulbous bodies and ungainly looking grilles and fenders. But those from '32, '33, '34, and '35 were very nicely styled, with proportioned hoods and graceful flowing fender lines.
And like Dad remembered, Terraplanes were powerful and fast. Wiki says,
1933 Essex-Terraplane 8-cylinder cars were believed to have the highest horsepower-to-weight ratio of any production automobiles in the world, and were favored by several gangsters of the day, particularly John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, and John Paul Chase, for their lightness, acceleration, handling, and discreet appearance.The opening hood vent doors (instead of louvers) indicate that the beautiful '33 coupe below had the powerful straight eight, but most of them came with six cylinder engines. They were also very fast.
Their speed, light weight, and strength (all steel frame) made them legendary. If you were interested in fast cars, you knew about Hudson Terraplanes. Thus, these beautiful cars became a part of popular culture, including music.
Especially Blues music. Robert Johnson had obviously heard about these fast cars and he wrote a song about them, "Terraplane Blues." Well, not exactly about the car. You see, the song's ostensibly about a car, but it's also about a woman. The comparison between the two is extended over the whole song. In fancy literary parlance, this is called a conceit, or an extended metaphor. Back in the late '70s, early '80s I used to use this song as an example of that figure of speech in class sometimes.
Johnson sets up everything right away. He says, "Who's been driving my Terraplane for you since I been gone?" The woman is his "Terraplane" and somebody's been driving her since he's been away. he can tell somebody's been messin' round with his car (woman) because he flashes her lights and finds her horn won't even blow. He says there must be a short in her connection "way way down below."
Yup, something's definitely wrong, so he needs to "heist her hood" and check....Well, you get the picture.
The version of Johnson's "Terraplane Blues" I used in class was on a compilation vinyl album I bought in the bargain bin back in the late '70s, and the singer was bluesman Son House. That version isn't available on youtube but you can easily find the original by Johnson in their vast holdings.
And there's this version, by Roy Rogers.
Whoa Trigger!
Monday, March 11, 2013
Summer Wages
I turned 18 in 1958 and like most young men, I faced many temptations. And like most temptations, they weren't so easy to ignore and set aside. But thankfully, I had a strong desire to leave home, get out in the world on my own, and, most importantly, go to college. To do that, I had to save my summer wages.
Right after I graduated from high school, my family moved to Texas. I got a job driving a truck hauling eggs. I saved about 95 percent of what I earned (around $700). It was a staggering pile of cash for an 18 year old who was used to getting along on meager fare. It amounted to about a sixth of what the average worker earned in a year in those days. The major temptation was to buy a fairly good and sexy used car. I could have used it to pay half down on a used '55 Chevy V8 210 post, which could be had for $1200-1500. Like most '50s teens, I loved cars; they symbolized freedom and unlimited possibilities. Believe me, that Chevy, or something like it, was very, very tempting. But that would have meant delaying college and working to pay off the payments.
Somehow I kept my wits about me and used my summer earnings to pay for a full year of tuition, room, and board ($220 per quarter) at Martin Junior college in 1958-59.
The next summer, 1959, I worked at Nashville Electric Service, on one of their construction crews laying conduits in new substations. I operated one of the most important technical inventions in the history of mankind. A shovel.
I wielded that sucker by following after the necessarily destructive efforts of a man nicknamed Coleslaw who broke up the earth with either his clay digger or jackhammer depending on the nature of the soil/rock. He broke it up, I shoveled it out of the ditch. It was blazing hot work. I slaved, sweated, and turned brown in the sun. I can't quite explain it, but the work made me feel pretty damn good, too. Again, driven by the same motivation, I saved almost all of what I earned to pay for another year of college.
But that year, there were other sirens calling me as well. One was to hit the road. Travel around some, see what's over the hill. Again, I think most young men feel that urge. Some go on an extended trip with friends, just driving around the country and raising a little Hell. Others, with money, go to Europe, or at least they did in the old days. Still others join the service. I believe the drive that gets in the heart of a young man is a basic, instinctive urge to roam, to go to strange places, to see the world, to have an adventure. But I guess maybe I'm not the adventurous type...I suppressed that urge and stayed on course.
In the summer of 1960, I again worked for the electrical utility, this time in a pole setting crew. It too was hot, hard work. I again used a shovel, a small one this time, to remove the dirt and rock from the deep cylindrical holes being dug for new poles.
Frequently dynamite was used to loosen the earth and rock and getting down in the hole meant inhaling some of the residual smoke. This resulted in many nitrite induced headaches which were as bad as any I've ever had.
I worked at the electrical utility from 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. I got home around 3:30, bathed, and made it to work at a local grocery store from 4:00 p.m. till 10:00 p.m.
I worked 13 hour days M-F and then on Saturday, worked at the grocery from 2:00 p.m. till 10:00 p.m. I again saved almost all the money I earned. I had no free time but I loved it. This time I had a little added motivation for being careful about those summer wages...I was getting married in mid August.
After all these years, I can still remember the strong temptation, especially in '58 and '59 ('60 not so much) to throw caution in the ditch, forget my plans, and spend that summer money, the most I'd ever had in my pocket in my life. I felt a strong desire to take the risk, to blow it all, or maybe gamble the whole stash on some wild, off the wall, crazy undertaking.
But somehow, someway, I kept my head down and didn't give in to the temptations to spend those summer wages. I'm not criticizing anyone else who took the risk, rolled the dice, hit the road, or perhaps followed some wild dream. But I don't envy them either.
People take different paths and the lucky ones make the one they choose their own. I'm comfortable with my choice and glad now that I didn't blow those summer wages.
Ian Tyson..."Summer Wages."
Right after I graduated from high school, my family moved to Texas. I got a job driving a truck hauling eggs. I saved about 95 percent of what I earned (around $700). It was a staggering pile of cash for an 18 year old who was used to getting along on meager fare. It amounted to about a sixth of what the average worker earned in a year in those days. The major temptation was to buy a fairly good and sexy used car. I could have used it to pay half down on a used '55 Chevy V8 210 post, which could be had for $1200-1500. Like most '50s teens, I loved cars; they symbolized freedom and unlimited possibilities. Believe me, that Chevy, or something like it, was very, very tempting. But that would have meant delaying college and working to pay off the payments.
The next summer, 1959, I worked at Nashville Electric Service, on one of their construction crews laying conduits in new substations. I operated one of the most important technical inventions in the history of mankind. A shovel.
But that year, there were other sirens calling me as well. One was to hit the road. Travel around some, see what's over the hill. Again, I think most young men feel that urge. Some go on an extended trip with friends, just driving around the country and raising a little Hell. Others, with money, go to Europe, or at least they did in the old days. Still others join the service. I believe the drive that gets in the heart of a young man is a basic, instinctive urge to roam, to go to strange places, to see the world, to have an adventure. But I guess maybe I'm not the adventurous type...I suppressed that urge and stayed on course.
In the summer of 1960, I again worked for the electrical utility, this time in a pole setting crew. It too was hot, hard work. I again used a shovel, a small one this time, to remove the dirt and rock from the deep cylindrical holes being dug for new poles.
I worked at the electrical utility from 7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. I got home around 3:30, bathed, and made it to work at a local grocery store from 4:00 p.m. till 10:00 p.m.
I worked 13 hour days M-F and then on Saturday, worked at the grocery from 2:00 p.m. till 10:00 p.m. I again saved almost all the money I earned. I had no free time but I loved it. This time I had a little added motivation for being careful about those summer wages...I was getting married in mid August.
After all these years, I can still remember the strong temptation, especially in '58 and '59 ('60 not so much) to throw caution in the ditch, forget my plans, and spend that summer money, the most I'd ever had in my pocket in my life. I felt a strong desire to take the risk, to blow it all, or maybe gamble the whole stash on some wild, off the wall, crazy undertaking.
But somehow, someway, I kept my head down and didn't give in to the temptations to spend those summer wages. I'm not criticizing anyone else who took the risk, rolled the dice, hit the road, or perhaps followed some wild dream. But I don't envy them either.
People take different paths and the lucky ones make the one they choose their own. I'm comfortable with my choice and glad now that I didn't blow those summer wages.
Ian Tyson..."Summer Wages."
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Wolverton Mountain and the Chevy II Drug Wagon
In spring, summer, and fall of 1962, I was working on my Master's degree at George Peabody College in Nashville. To help with expenses, I worked part time at a drugstore in what's called the Village which is just over the hill from the Vanderbilt and Peabody campuses on 21st Avenue.
I worked as a short order cook for the grill/fountain area and on some days did drug deliveries to the pharmacy's regular customers, especially those who were shut-ins. (Dapper Dan, the Drug Delivery Man.)
The drugstore vehicle I drove while making the deliveries was a brand new, stripped down, white 1962 Chevy II wagon. It had a 90 hp four cylinder engine. Except for the color and the fancy trim, it looked a little like this...
I said it was stripped down, and it was, but it did have an AM radio which I always tuned to WSM 650 as I made my deliveries.
That summer and fall I'll bet I heard Claude King's "Wolverton Mountain" about a thousand times on that Chevy II radio as I made my drug deliveries. (You can listen to the tune below.) The DJs played it over and over. It seemed like every time I got in the drug wagon and turned the radio on, the song was playing.
King actually co wrote the song with Merle Kilgore who had written a crude draft of the song earlier. It was based on an actual person, Kilgore's uncle Clifton. King liked what Kilgore had and deftly shaped the rough original into the hit ballad.
The song has a catchy tune, tells a story about a love struck young man and the girl protected by her father who lives on Wolverton Mountain, and it has those echoing "ahoooos" at the beginning.
Wiki says,
"Wolverton Mountain" was a hit right away and stayed at No. 1 on the country charts for nine weeks; it also cracked the top ten 100 hot list for that year and eventually sold a million records.
Mr. King died this week at age 90. Here's the song which he'll be remembered for over many years to come.
I worked as a short order cook for the grill/fountain area and on some days did drug deliveries to the pharmacy's regular customers, especially those who were shut-ins. (Dapper Dan, the Drug Delivery Man.)
The drugstore vehicle I drove while making the deliveries was a brand new, stripped down, white 1962 Chevy II wagon. It had a 90 hp four cylinder engine. Except for the color and the fancy trim, it looked a little like this...
I said it was stripped down, and it was, but it did have an AM radio which I always tuned to WSM 650 as I made my deliveries.
That summer and fall I'll bet I heard Claude King's "Wolverton Mountain" about a thousand times on that Chevy II radio as I made my drug deliveries. (You can listen to the tune below.) The DJs played it over and over. It seemed like every time I got in the drug wagon and turned the radio on, the song was playing.
King actually co wrote the song with Merle Kilgore who had written a crude draft of the song earlier. It was based on an actual person, Kilgore's uncle Clifton. King liked what Kilgore had and deftly shaped the rough original into the hit ballad.
The song has a catchy tune, tells a story about a love struck young man and the girl protected by her father who lives on Wolverton Mountain, and it has those echoing "ahoooos" at the beginning.
Wiki says,
King was born in Keithville in southern Caddo Parish near the city of Shreveport, Louisiana. At a young age, he was interested in music but more so in athletics. He purchased a guitar at the age of twelve, and although he learned to play, most of his time was devoted to sports. He was offered a baseball scholarship to the University of Idaho at Moscow, Idaho.
King later returned to Shreveport and joined Louisiana Hayride, a television and radio show produced in Shreveport and broadcast in the U.S. and the United Kingdom. King was frequently on the same shows with Elvis Presley, Tex Ritter, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Webb Pierce, Kitty Wells, Jimmie Davis, Slim Whitman, Faron Young, Johnny Horton, Jim Reeves,George Jones, and Lefty Frizzell.
"Wolverton Mountain" was a hit right away and stayed at No. 1 on the country charts for nine weeks; it also cracked the top ten 100 hot list for that year and eventually sold a million records.
Mr. King died this week at age 90. Here's the song which he'll be remembered for over many years to come.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
100,000
We crossed over the 100,000 line this morning while Joyce and I were getting our car serviced.
I took the entire staff out for lunch at the appropriately named "Our Place Cafe" to celebrate. Joyce enjoyed a tasty baked Tilapia dish while I had the Lasagna.
The line came up sooner than I figured it would; since January, lots of my older posts have really taken off. Why, I'm not sure, but I ain't complainin'. (It ain't spam either, I checked.)
We didn't actually get a trophy, and I realize 100,000 is nowhere near as many page views as some bloggers have, but it's a milestone for us.
Red River Valley Mystery
The origins of the famous folk/cowboy song "Red River Valley" are uncertain. Variations on the title are plentiful too and range from
Others think "Red River Valley" came from Iowa in 1879 because a manuscript of the lyrics exists which has a notation to that effect.
Wiki also notes that
The lyrics suggest a hard truth--love, like life, is not eternal, does not last. The narrator seems to grasp this truth but resists it. He knows that his lover is leaving and asks for some sign of affection ("come and sit by my side if you love me"). He holds out hope against hope that somehow their love can be maintained, that it's not over.
There is also no longer a mystery as to which version of this song is the absolute, very best of all time. It's this one.
"Cowboy Love Song", "Bright Sherman Valley", "Bright Laurel Valley", "In the Bright Mohawk Valley", and "Bright Little Valley"—depending on where it has been sung.Some think the song is of Canadian origin, dating from the time of the Wolseley Expedition (1870) which was a military force organized to put down the Red River Rebellion at the Red River colony in the Manitoba province. It was, according to Wiki, also intended to "counter American expansionist sentiments in northern border states."
Others think "Red River Valley" came from Iowa in 1879 because a manuscript of the lyrics exists which has a notation to that effect.
Wiki also notes that
The song appears in sheet music, titled "In the Bright Mohawk Valley", printed in New York in 1896 with James J. Kerrigan as the writer.There is no mystery, however, as to how popular the song is. It's one of the first songs many of us learn to sing. It's simple, hymn like melody is easy to follow and it's my opinion that the song embodies and conveys a wistful kind of natural spirituality and sentiment that even an atheist is comfortable with.
The lyrics suggest a hard truth--love, like life, is not eternal, does not last. The narrator seems to grasp this truth but resists it. He knows that his lover is leaving and asks for some sign of affection ("come and sit by my side if you love me"). He holds out hope against hope that somehow their love can be maintained, that it's not over.
There is also no longer a mystery as to which version of this song is the absolute, very best of all time. It's this one.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
The Day Country Music Died
People live, people die. It's an inescapable fact of human existence.
If people are famous when they die, the world takes notice.
If they're famous and they die with other famous people in the same incident or at the same time, their death can become a kind of historical marker for a shift in the direction or substance of culture.
The history of pop and rock music was significantly altered in February of 1959, when Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, and their pilot Roger Peterson were all killed in a small plane crash in Iowa. This event was immortalized in Don McLean's "American Pie" in 1971 as "The Day the Music Died."
Four years later, on March 5, 1963, the landscape of country music and pop music was abruptly changed as well when Lloyd Estel "Cowboy" Copas, Patsy Cline, Harold Franklin "Hawkshaw" Hawkins, and pilot Randy Hughes, who was Cline's manager and Copas' son-in-law, were killed in a plane crash near Dyersburg, Tennessee.
In years to come, Patsy Cline's legend grew, but at the time of the crash, most people in country music and its fans as well would have said Cowboy Copas was the bigger star of the three. His first big hit was in 1946 with "Filipino Baby," and he had a string of others on into the early '50s including "Signed, Sealed, and Delivered," and "'Tis So Sweet to be Remembered." Then his career went South for a few years until 1960 when his biggest hit ever, "Alabam," reached the top of the charts and stayed at No. 1 for three months. Copas was an excellent guitar player and he demonstrates his fast thumb picking style in this video of "Alabam."
Patsy Cline was a recognized and honored star in country music at the time of her death in '63, but since that time her legend has grown. The re release of her great records, the successful stage plays about her life, and the movies and TV shows about her have made her the most famous of the four who died that stormy night back in '63.
Wiki says that Cline (born Virginia Patterson Hensley)
Here's Patsy Cline's last recorded song, "I'll Sail My Ship Alone." This is a nice video with lots of candid shots of Cline.
The third country star who died that fateful night was Virginia native, Hawkshaw Hawkins. Although he began his career back in the late '40s, Hawkins had only just begun to achieve the kind of success that would have more than likely propelled him to a star status comparable to that of Cline and Copas at the time.
Wiki says that
He continued to record through the '50s but didn't have a hit until he recorded "Lonesome 7-7203" in 1962. The song didn't appear on the charts until March 2, 1963, three days before his death. By March 23, the song had reached No. 1 status and it remained in that position for twenty five weeks.
Randy Hughes, pilot of ill fated Piper Comanche, was a studio guitarist and Cline's manager. He signed on with her in 1959 and was instrumental in getting her to change labels; she went from Four Star to Decca. Because of this change Hughes was able to get her records produced by "legendary female-singer country music producer" Owen Bradley. Bradley was a proponent of the more lushly produced "Nashville Sound" which Cline initially feared. But he and Hughes eventually persuaded her to accept this style change which led her to greater success with "I Fall to Pieces" and "Crazy."
Most country stars of the time toured in car caravans or in buses. But Hughes, who had hopes of managing several stars, felt the Comanche would be a more convenient way for his clients to travel. The weather was bad that Tuesday when he and his three traveling companions took off from the Kansas City airport. They stopped once in Missouri to refuel and then made it as far as Dyersburg, Tennessee, where they landed at 4:30 p.m. Hughes was not instrument rated and the owners of the Dyersburg airport urged him to wait till morning when the weather was supposed to improve. But Hughes, Cline, Copas, and Hawkins were all tired and wanted to get back to Nashville which was just 170 miles away. So, they took off into the stormy night.
The wreckage of the plane was found in a forest in Camden, Tennessee, roughly 90 miles from Nashville.
Kathy Hughes, Randy's wife, faced a double tragedy that day; she lost both her husband and her father, Cowboy Copas, in the crash.
(The Tennessean's Peter Cooper has a long and interesting article about the crash, the events leading up to it, and its aftermath if you'd like to do more reading about these performers.)
The contributions these stars might have made had they not been killed that night in March fifty years ago are obviously unknown, but judging from their prior accomplishments, it's my opinion that whatever they might have done had they lived would have altered the shape, culture, and direction of country music.
If people are famous when they die, the world takes notice.
If they're famous and they die with other famous people in the same incident or at the same time, their death can become a kind of historical marker for a shift in the direction or substance of culture.
The history of pop and rock music was significantly altered in February of 1959, when Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, and their pilot Roger Peterson were all killed in a small plane crash in Iowa. This event was immortalized in Don McLean's "American Pie" in 1971 as "The Day the Music Died."
In years to come, Patsy Cline's legend grew, but at the time of the crash, most people in country music and its fans as well would have said Cowboy Copas was the bigger star of the three. His first big hit was in 1946 with "Filipino Baby," and he had a string of others on into the early '50s including "Signed, Sealed, and Delivered," and "'Tis So Sweet to be Remembered." Then his career went South for a few years until 1960 when his biggest hit ever, "Alabam," reached the top of the charts and stayed at No. 1 for three months. Copas was an excellent guitar player and he demonstrates his fast thumb picking style in this video of "Alabam."
Patsy Cline was a recognized and honored star in country music at the time of her death in '63, but since that time her legend has grown. The re release of her great records, the successful stage plays about her life, and the movies and TV shows about her have made her the most famous of the four who died that stormy night back in '63.
Wiki says that Cline (born Virginia Patterson Hensley)
was best known for her rich tone, emotionally expressive and bold contralto voice and her role as a country music industry pioneer. Along with Kitty Wells, she helped pave the way for women as headline performers in the genre. Cline's was cited as an inspiration by singers in several genres....Her hits began in 1957 with Donn Hecht's "Walkin' After Midnight", Harlan Howard's "I Fall to Pieces", Hank Cochran's "She's Got You", Willie Nelson's "Crazy" and ended in 1963 with Don Gibson's "Sweet Dreams".In the years before she died, Cline bought her dream home in Goodlettsville, Tennessee, which is part of the Metro Nashville area. Several stars from that era made their homes in Goodlettsville and neighboring Hendersonville; today's stars seem to prefer the much more upscale area in Williamson county.
Here's Patsy Cline's last recorded song, "I'll Sail My Ship Alone." This is a nice video with lots of candid shots of Cline.
The third country star who died that fateful night was Virginia native, Hawkshaw Hawkins. Although he began his career back in the late '40s, Hawkins had only just begun to achieve the kind of success that would have more than likely propelled him to a star status comparable to that of Cline and Copas at the time.
Wiki says that
He gained his nickname as a boy after helping a neighbor track down two missing fishing rods: the neighbor dubbed him "Hawkshaw" after the title character in the comic strip, Hawkshaw the Detective. He traded five trapped rabbits for his first guitar, and first performed on WCMI-AM in Ashland, Kentucky. At 16, he won a talent competition and a job on WSAZ-AM in Huntington, where he formed Hawkshaw and Sherlock with Clarence Jack.The 6'5" Hawkins served in WWII and won four battle stars at the Battle of the Bulge. His first two recordings with King Records in the later '40s were "Pan American" and "Doghouse Boogie." Both were top ten country hits.
He continued to record through the '50s but didn't have a hit until he recorded "Lonesome 7-7203" in 1962. The song didn't appear on the charts until March 2, 1963, three days before his death. By March 23, the song had reached No. 1 status and it remained in that position for twenty five weeks.
Most country stars of the time toured in car caravans or in buses. But Hughes, who had hopes of managing several stars, felt the Comanche would be a more convenient way for his clients to travel. The weather was bad that Tuesday when he and his three traveling companions took off from the Kansas City airport. They stopped once in Missouri to refuel and then made it as far as Dyersburg, Tennessee, where they landed at 4:30 p.m. Hughes was not instrument rated and the owners of the Dyersburg airport urged him to wait till morning when the weather was supposed to improve. But Hughes, Cline, Copas, and Hawkins were all tired and wanted to get back to Nashville which was just 170 miles away. So, they took off into the stormy night.
The wreckage of the plane was found in a forest in Camden, Tennessee, roughly 90 miles from Nashville.
Kathy Hughes, Randy's wife, faced a double tragedy that day; she lost both her husband and her father, Cowboy Copas, in the crash.
(The Tennessean's Peter Cooper has a long and interesting article about the crash, the events leading up to it, and its aftermath if you'd like to do more reading about these performers.)
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Some Bullets
- My old Silvertone guitar came back from the repair shop (operated by Scooney's son, Rob), and it's in fine shape now. I still have to get new tuning machines for it; unfortunately I bought the wrong type, but Rob will install the new ones I've ordered when they come in. That's a pic of a Silvertone like mine at the bottom of the page.
- We might get a little snow tomorrow and Saturday; that's what the weather people say anyway.
- Bleh. I'm sick of politics. I hate to see the US military get cut, but dang it I'm glad the other sequester cuts are going to be made. These cuts are only a tiny fraction of government growth since 2007 but Obama and his cronies are acting like it's Armageddon. To mix a folk tale with a biblical allusion, if the sky does fall at some point in the next four years, Obama's warning about it (assuming he gives us one) will be ignored.
- The Cumberland Post is coming up pretty fast on 100,000 page views. It's not a lot compared to some blogs but it's still very satisfying to me. I've discovered that some of my older posts continue to keep on attracting readers. My Audie Murphy Memorial Day tribute still leads, and I get quite a few hits on certain posts about Buick, Fiat, and other automobiles. Lately, I've had lots of readers interested in that old post about 16th avenue in Nashville. I think it's probably a result of the popularity of the new ABC TV show, Nashville.
- I'm trying to get a new mystery novel going and not having a lot of luck. Twenty pages in, I've hit a stone wall. This has happened before, but it's really bugging me this time.
- Because I'm working on the novel, I won't be posting regularly. I'll still be reading my usual 3 or 4 blogs, and sometimes commenting.
- Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
What's Wrong With You, Boy?
I used hear that sometimes when I was a teenager. And I remember how I felt and what I'd done (or mainly not done) to elicit those words.
What I felt was shame. "You big old lazy cow. Get your tail up and cut that grass. Take out that garbage. Paint that fence. What's wrong with you, boy?"
Yakety yak.
(play the music and keep readin')
Truth is, I didn't really want to do anything. Movement--except in a pickup game of basketball or sandlot baseball, or the occasional date--movement was the enemy. I had energy all right. Plenty. And my hormones were raging. I was angry, at least on the inside, but I didn't know what I was angry at. I wasn't a Rebel like the character James Dean played but I understood where he was coming from.
I didn't quite understand the anger and all the urges, or exactly where they were taking me, so I shut down. At least around my parents. I controlled all that turmoil by pulling the shades down. I sank down into the 3 L's: lethargy, languor, listlessness.
I guess I had the teen age White Boy Blues. When you're 15, 16, even 17, you're kind of in between. Not an adult and not an adolescent. You're out on the high wire that stretches between those two worlds. You're too far out to go back and moving forward is damn scary.
Many times out there in that No Man's Land, in that limbo, especially summertime when I was out of school, I just kinda lollygagged around, doin' nothing, sayin' nothin. Grunting when spoken to, talking only when necessary. I didn't sit, I sprawled. And I read. I read a lot. Science Fiction mainly. Escaping into some faraway world. And I watched a little TV.
But most of all, every night, I listened to my old Zenith.
The DJs were Gene Nobles, or John R, or Hoss Allen playing Rhythm and Blues stuff on clear channel, 50,000 watts powered WLAC. Maybe they were sellin' White Rose Petroleum Jelly (heh) or advertising special mail order deals at Ernie's Record Mart in Nashville, or Randy's Record Shop in "G-A-Double L-A-T-I-N. (I didn't know then that when I got older I would work in that town and see the old record shop most every day.)
They peddled stuff all right. But they also played music. The kind you couldn't hear anywhere else in the early '50s.
Rhythm and Blues.
I'm talking about these guys: Jimmy Reed, The Coasters, The Bill Black Combo, Little Esther Phillips, James Brown, Lavergne Baker, Chuck Berry, Jimmy Forest, The Dominoes, Ruth Brown, B. B. King, Lloyd Price, Jimmy Forrest, Bo Didley, Fats Domino, Little Walter, and lots more.
I didn't know it at the time, but the music was getting into this Southern White Boy's blood. Slipping on the sly around the edges of my already weakening Baptist barricades, it was finding its way into my still forming soul. I guess I liked it also because it reflected my inner confusion, my intestinal turmoil, my (heh) "teen angst."
There are quite a few songs that stick in my memory from that time, but one of them really stands out. Jmmy Reed's "Baby, What You Want Me to Do?" The guy in the song is going crazy. She's got him so messed up he doesn't know which way is up. Or down. This guy's brain is screwed up the way mine was back in those flattop days.
That muffled, repetitive, hammering rhythm on the bass strings in this thing knocks me out. And the harmonica, I really like the way it comes in on the break and at the end just kind of dies on out.
"Baby, What You Want Me to Do?" is the one song I heard played so many times on 'LAC that later when I was in junior college and got an old arch top guitar with the back half gone, I remembered it well enough to figure out how to replicate it on the bass strings.
Well, I finally got my ass up and got a job my junior and senior years. I was a curb boy at the old Eagle Cleaners on Dickerson Road. The angst ended. I worked hard. I made plans. I was going somewhere.
I left home and caught that "Night Train" myself (you know the one I'm talking about...the one that shakes, rattles and rolls, sounds like a saxaphone, seems slow, but moves like a rocket) and then I woke up one morning and found I was 72 years old.
Grad school, seminars, a rising tide of Freshman compositions, and early faculty meetings kinda distracted me and I lost my "blues" soul for awhile in my early 20s. But with Joyce's help and her love for music and a few other friends along the way, I eventually got it back.
As for that white boy teen angst stuff, I'm way past all that now. But old men still get the blues. And the music is always there.
Like that quote by Herbert Spencer on my side bar says...
"Music must rank as the highest of the fine arts--as the one which, more than any other, ministers to the human spirit."
I don't think Spencer was talkin 'bout Jimmy Reed or Jimmy Forrest, or the Coasters, but, hey, if he could've heard them when he was about 15, I bet they would've "ministered to his spirit," and his soul might have grown a little bit too. Mine did.
What I felt was shame. "You big old lazy cow. Get your tail up and cut that grass. Take out that garbage. Paint that fence. What's wrong with you, boy?"
Yakety yak.
(play the music and keep readin')
Truth is, I didn't really want to do anything. Movement--except in a pickup game of basketball or sandlot baseball, or the occasional date--movement was the enemy. I had energy all right. Plenty. And my hormones were raging. I was angry, at least on the inside, but I didn't know what I was angry at. I wasn't a Rebel like the character James Dean played but I understood where he was coming from.
I didn't quite understand the anger and all the urges, or exactly where they were taking me, so I shut down. At least around my parents. I controlled all that turmoil by pulling the shades down. I sank down into the 3 L's: lethargy, languor, listlessness.
I guess I had the teen age White Boy Blues. When you're 15, 16, even 17, you're kind of in between. Not an adult and not an adolescent. You're out on the high wire that stretches between those two worlds. You're too far out to go back and moving forward is damn scary.
Many times out there in that No Man's Land, in that limbo, especially summertime when I was out of school, I just kinda lollygagged around, doin' nothing, sayin' nothin. Grunting when spoken to, talking only when necessary. I didn't sit, I sprawled. And I read. I read a lot. Science Fiction mainly. Escaping into some faraway world. And I watched a little TV.
But most of all, every night, I listened to my old Zenith.
They peddled stuff all right. But they also played music. The kind you couldn't hear anywhere else in the early '50s.
Rhythm and Blues.
I'm talking about these guys: Jimmy Reed, The Coasters, The Bill Black Combo, Little Esther Phillips, James Brown, Lavergne Baker, Chuck Berry, Jimmy Forest, The Dominoes, Ruth Brown, B. B. King, Lloyd Price, Jimmy Forrest, Bo Didley, Fats Domino, Little Walter, and lots more.
I didn't know it at the time, but the music was getting into this Southern White Boy's blood. Slipping on the sly around the edges of my already weakening Baptist barricades, it was finding its way into my still forming soul. I guess I liked it also because it reflected my inner confusion, my intestinal turmoil, my (heh) "teen angst."
There are quite a few songs that stick in my memory from that time, but one of them really stands out. Jmmy Reed's "Baby, What You Want Me to Do?" The guy in the song is going crazy. She's got him so messed up he doesn't know which way is up. Or down. This guy's brain is screwed up the way mine was back in those flattop days.
That muffled, repetitive, hammering rhythm on the bass strings in this thing knocks me out. And the harmonica, I really like the way it comes in on the break and at the end just kind of dies on out.
"Baby, What You Want Me to Do?" is the one song I heard played so many times on 'LAC that later when I was in junior college and got an old arch top guitar with the back half gone, I remembered it well enough to figure out how to replicate it on the bass strings.
Well, I finally got my ass up and got a job my junior and senior years. I was a curb boy at the old Eagle Cleaners on Dickerson Road. The angst ended. I worked hard. I made plans. I was going somewhere.
I left home and caught that "Night Train" myself (you know the one I'm talking about...the one that shakes, rattles and rolls, sounds like a saxaphone, seems slow, but moves like a rocket) and then I woke up one morning and found I was 72 years old.
Grad school, seminars, a rising tide of Freshman compositions, and early faculty meetings kinda distracted me and I lost my "blues" soul for awhile in my early 20s. But with Joyce's help and her love for music and a few other friends along the way, I eventually got it back.
As for that white boy teen angst stuff, I'm way past all that now. But old men still get the blues. And the music is always there.
Like that quote by Herbert Spencer on my side bar says...
"Music must rank as the highest of the fine arts--as the one which, more than any other, ministers to the human spirit."
I don't think Spencer was talkin 'bout Jimmy Reed or Jimmy Forrest, or the Coasters, but, hey, if he could've heard them when he was about 15, I bet they would've "ministered to his spirit," and his soul might have grown a little bit too. Mine did.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Give Me Sunshine
I been distracted by a couple of new projects and haven't blogged for about a week now. I'm not going to blog about this stuff now, but there's been a lot of bloggable crap going on, including these significantly important events and issues...
Cable News replayed the clip of Rubio sipping water more than 200 times yesterday.
(Doesn't this illustrate perfectly the idiocy of the media today?)
Obama's brilliant SOTU speech reinvigorates pre Clinton liberal spending approach.
(Yeah, let's try that again.)
The Christopher Dorner fan club is growing.
(I think I'm going to be sick.)
Sometimes the crap piles up so high that you wonder if the whole world is going crazy.
Thank goodness the sun is out in Tennessee today. I'm also thankful my friend Bob Bell (who's been in FL for the past couple of weeks) sent me a great video. It's only 5 or 6 minutes long, but it cheered me up. I hope you like it too.
Cable News replayed the clip of Rubio sipping water more than 200 times yesterday.
(Doesn't this illustrate perfectly the idiocy of the media today?)
Obama's brilliant SOTU speech reinvigorates pre Clinton liberal spending approach.
(Yeah, let's try that again.)
The Christopher Dorner fan club is growing.
(I think I'm going to be sick.)
Sometimes the crap piles up so high that you wonder if the whole world is going crazy.
Thank goodness the sun is out in Tennessee today. I'm also thankful my friend Bob Bell (who's been in FL for the past couple of weeks) sent me a great video. It's only 5 or 6 minutes long, but it cheered me up. I hope you like it too.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Old Rain Songs
I know there's a big blizzard headed to New York and New England, and the Chicago Tribune says the Windy City will get five inches of snow tonight. Winter in Tennessee, however, usually means rain.
The last couple of days have been sunny, but, as I said, it's winter and it's Tennessee, so the rain is coming...in about an hour actually. From midnight till morning the cold rain will be falling.
Be patient with me now, I'm fixin' to ramble a bit.
That weather forecast started me thinking about rain songs and wondering how many of those water soaked lyrics have been written over the years. I'm not talking here about using the word "rain" in a line or two, I'm talking about rain all through the song, or a verse, or, at least, as a major motif or theme or image.
There have been lots of them. Many memorable ones. All of those on the list below except the last two popped into my head as I was writing. I suspect Goggling would turn up quite a few more. You who are reading this right now are probably thinking of a couple I didn't mention.
Singin' in the Rain
Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
In the Early Mornin' Rain
Have You Ever Seen the Rain?
Who'll Stop the Rain?
Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head
Kentucky Rain
I Love a Rainy Night
Listen to the Rain
November Rain
Rain
Rain falls in Bluegrass Music too. Some of the truly classic bluegrass songs have used rain as a major theme.
This first song is my favorite country/bluegrass song. Really I suppose it's my favorite song period. "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight." It was written by the great Johnny Bond, but it's become a part of our family's history, part of my history.
I remember those Christmases in the '70s when Joyce's whole family (all six siblings and their kids) would come home to her parents' house. Her younger brother Mark was in his late teens and early 20s then and had learned to play the guitar. We practiced a couple of songs over and over and almost drove the other family members crazy. One of the songs was CCR's "Lodi" (for a future post) and the other was "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight." Mark and I would sing and sometimes Joyce would join it harmonizing. We had such great fun doing that. Great fun. Even though it was usually raining outside, we had a roaring fire and there was cake and pie and coffee. And music. Lots of music.
Mark's gone now, he passed away unexpectedly in 1999 in his forties. But I still remember those great times and our duets on "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight." If there is heaven and a Deity, especially One who digs old bluegrass songs, I know where Mark is tonight.
I enjoy "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight" so much I'm posting two versions of it. The first is in the true up tempo bluegrass style and it's sung by a great group called the Cluster Pluckers. They've been around since the early '80s, and three original members of the group are still playing: Margaret Bailey, Kris Ballinger, and Dale Ballinger. The video isn't dated, but I would guess late '80s - early '90s.
Like in most bluegrass songs, the fast tempo becomes an emotional counterpoint to the heartache. In this song the cold, slowly falling rain underscores the loneliness of the singer and reminds her of how cold hearted the bastard was who left her. He treated her mean but she can't get him our of her mind.
This time, the rain falls in the chorus and it's used as a metaphor for her ex's cold heart and even colder love. In the fast versions of this song, I love that split second between the last line of the verse and the beginning line of the chorus. This is a crude comparison, but if the musicians do it right (and the Cluster Pluckers do it mighty fine), the guitars and other instruments sound almost like an automatic hemi shifting into what we used to call "passing gear." Like I said, crude. But I hope you get the point. What I feel the music say at that precise point is, "listen up, this is about to get damn serious here."
Here's another great version of the song that I found while foraging on Youtube. It's by the great Johnny Rodriguez, who slows the song down and turns it into a ballad, complete with a verse in Spanish. This is from a Hee Haw show in '73.
Okay, last rain song coming up. If you like Bluegrass, you've heard of Rhonda Vincent. I believe this is one of her first recorded songs; it's "I'm Not Over You." The rain in the first verse is an intensifier, it adds to the speaker's heartache. The falling rain is compared to the tears she's crying and then becomes a storm of emotion which blows full force into the chorus.
It's a little after midnight now and I just checked the weather radar. The big band of rain (no storms, thank goodness) stretches from Owensboro, Kentucky, down through Clarksville and Jackson, Tennessee, and is moving this way. Guess it's time to sign off now and climb in bed. Our bedroom is on the second floor and the ceiling angles up with the roof line so I can hear the muffled raindrops falling as I go to sleep. Night y'all.
The last couple of days have been sunny, but, as I said, it's winter and it's Tennessee, so the rain is coming...in about an hour actually. From midnight till morning the cold rain will be falling.
Be patient with me now, I'm fixin' to ramble a bit.
That weather forecast started me thinking about rain songs and wondering how many of those water soaked lyrics have been written over the years. I'm not talking here about using the word "rain" in a line or two, I'm talking about rain all through the song, or a verse, or, at least, as a major motif or theme or image.
There have been lots of them. Many memorable ones. All of those on the list below except the last two popped into my head as I was writing. I suspect Goggling would turn up quite a few more. You who are reading this right now are probably thinking of a couple I didn't mention.
Singin' in the Rain
Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
In the Early Mornin' Rain
Have You Ever Seen the Rain?
Who'll Stop the Rain?
Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head
Kentucky Rain
I Love a Rainy Night
Listen to the Rain
November Rain
Rain
Rain falls in Bluegrass Music too. Some of the truly classic bluegrass songs have used rain as a major theme.
This first song is my favorite country/bluegrass song. Really I suppose it's my favorite song period. "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight." It was written by the great Johnny Bond, but it's become a part of our family's history, part of my history.
I remember those Christmases in the '70s when Joyce's whole family (all six siblings and their kids) would come home to her parents' house. Her younger brother Mark was in his late teens and early 20s then and had learned to play the guitar. We practiced a couple of songs over and over and almost drove the other family members crazy. One of the songs was CCR's "Lodi" (for a future post) and the other was "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight." Mark and I would sing and sometimes Joyce would join it harmonizing. We had such great fun doing that. Great fun. Even though it was usually raining outside, we had a roaring fire and there was cake and pie and coffee. And music. Lots of music.
Mark's gone now, he passed away unexpectedly in 1999 in his forties. But I still remember those great times and our duets on "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight." If there is heaven and a Deity, especially One who digs old bluegrass songs, I know where Mark is tonight.
I enjoy "I Wonder Where You Are Tonight" so much I'm posting two versions of it. The first is in the true up tempo bluegrass style and it's sung by a great group called the Cluster Pluckers. They've been around since the early '80s, and three original members of the group are still playing: Margaret Bailey, Kris Ballinger, and Dale Ballinger. The video isn't dated, but I would guess late '80s - early '90s.
Like in most bluegrass songs, the fast tempo becomes an emotional counterpoint to the heartache. In this song the cold, slowly falling rain underscores the loneliness of the singer and reminds her of how cold hearted the bastard was who left her. He treated her mean but she can't get him our of her mind.
This time, the rain falls in the chorus and it's used as a metaphor for her ex's cold heart and even colder love. In the fast versions of this song, I love that split second between the last line of the verse and the beginning line of the chorus. This is a crude comparison, but if the musicians do it right (and the Cluster Pluckers do it mighty fine), the guitars and other instruments sound almost like an automatic hemi shifting into what we used to call "passing gear." Like I said, crude. But I hope you get the point. What I feel the music say at that precise point is, "listen up, this is about to get damn serious here."
The rain is cold and slowly falling
Upon my window pane tonight.
And though your love is even colder
I wonder where you are tonight.
Here's another great version of the song that I found while foraging on Youtube. It's by the great Johnny Rodriguez, who slows the song down and turns it into a ballad, complete with a verse in Spanish. This is from a Hee Haw show in '73.
Okay, last rain song coming up. If you like Bluegrass, you've heard of Rhonda Vincent. I believe this is one of her first recorded songs; it's "I'm Not Over You." The rain in the first verse is an intensifier, it adds to the speaker's heartache. The falling rain is compared to the tears she's crying and then becomes a storm of emotion which blows full force into the chorus.
Tonight the rain that's falling
only adds to my heartache
It runs quietly down my window
Like the tears upon my face
And each time the lightning flashes
And I hear the thunder roar
I'm reminded of the closing of the door
Chorus:
I'm not over you
the storm still rages
The waves of pain remind me
That we're through
I'm slowly drowninG
In a sea of endless heartbreak
I'm going under
'Cause I'm not over you
It's a little after midnight now and I just checked the weather radar. The big band of rain (no storms, thank goodness) stretches from Owensboro, Kentucky, down through Clarksville and Jackson, Tennessee, and is moving this way. Guess it's time to sign off now and climb in bed. Our bedroom is on the second floor and the ceiling angles up with the roof line so I can hear the muffled raindrops falling as I go to sleep. Night y'all.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The First Jaguar: Chief Inspector Alleyn's Splendid Mark IV Saloon
First, click on this youtube recording of "You're Breaking My Heart" by the Victor Sylvester orchestra. You can listen to this tune, which was first recorded in 1948, to put you in the proper historical mood as you read the rest of this piece
Joyce and I have been enjoying another English TV Detective series we found on Netflix, The Inspector Alleyn Mysteries. Though the setting is England in the postwar years, 1945-49, the series was produced and originally aired between 1990-1994 and consists of number one (the pilot episode) and 8 other episodes, all approximately 90 minutes in length. Netflix only has 6 (2-7) of the episodes.
The "Inspector Alleyn" series is based on the "Golden Age" detective novels of Ngaio Marsh; there were 32 of them, published between 1934 and 1982. All feature the gentleman detective Roderick Alleyn. Inspector Alleyn is a member of the gentry (his older brother is Sir George Alleyn), and is exceptionally well mannered and polite, although he is at times, quite capable of a blistering stare or a cutting remark.
The three episodes we've viewed so far have all been good fun because of (1) the excellent writing, (2) the superb acting of Patrick Malhide (Alleyn), William Simons ( Inspector Fox, Alleyn's loyal and effective assitant), and Belinda Lang (Agatha Troy, Alleyn's girlfriend) and, of course in my case at least, (3) Alleyn's personal car.
I've spent a couple of days googling around on the internet, comparing the details I noted while viewing the series with images of various British automobiles manufactured during the time frame of the series. I concluded that the Chief Inspector's personal car is a saloon (sedan) model offered by the SS company between 1935 and 1940, and again between 1945 and 1949. The SS company stopped production during WWII.
SS? What's that?
No. It wasn't the first Super Sport Chevy.
Nor was it a car manufactured by the German Schutzstaffel (SS).
It was built by the Swallow Sidecar company who had originally manufactured motorcycle sidecars. Also, the saloon model that year was called the SS Jaguar Saloon and featured a 2.5 liter engine. Wiki says,
The Swallow Sidecar Company was founded in 1922 by two motorcycle enthusiasts, William Lyons andWilliam Walmsley leading to SS Cars Ltd. In 1935 the SS Jaguar name first appeared on a 2.5-litre saloon,[8] sports models of which were the SS 90 and SS 100.
So, what we're talking about here is the first Jaguar.
And I do love Jaguars, remember? I owned a 2000 XK8 which I sold last year (sigh).
The company dropped the SS name after the war "to avoid the unfavorable connotations of the SS initials; in 1945 they began to use the model name Jaguar for the whole company. The company itself never designated the '45-49 Saloons as Jaguar Mark IVs, but the trade did. So, unofficially, they're sometimes called that...Mark IV Jaguar Saloons.
The body style was virtually unchanged during it's run, so the 1935 Saloon looks pretty much like the 1949 model. The SS company changed over from coachbuilt (wood based) construction to all steel in 1938. There were three engines, the 1.5 litre (a four cylinder), the 2.5 litre (a six), and the 3.5 litre (also a six). I'm not sure, but my guess is that the one used in the Alleyn TV series is a six; I'm basing that on the sound. Of course, the Foley artists who work on film and video can do wonders with motor sounds, so the sound on screen could be misleading.
The cars are very low slung and have rakish suicide doors. This is picture of a 1937 Saloon which looks very much like the one in the TV series, including the fender mounted spare. Believe me, the picture doesn't do it justice.
I've never seen one of these cars in the "flesh," but the videos and pictures don't lie about their low down, mean look. These cars are low, not tall at all, at least in comparison to other American sedans of the era; the top seems to be about chest high to an average size man, and when the actors open those handy suicide doors and move in to sit down in the car, they have to crouch quite a bit to make the maneuver.
The SS Jaguar 100, a four place, drop head coupe powered by the 2.5 or 3.5 litre engine was introduced in 1936. Wiki says this coupe is considered by many to be the finest looking automobile ever made. It's the ancestor of my old 2000 XK8 and the new 2013 XK.
Here's a 1948 Saloon model with the uncovered fender spare. This angle shows the car's sexy looking, curvaceous rear end.
That rear end reminded me a little of one of those fabulous '32 Ford three window coupes after it had been hot rodded and cutomized. Remember those beauties?
The rear end also reminded a little of this car, said to have a "bustle back" styled rear.
Those Cadillac Sevilles from the early '80s did okay at first (which suggests that the public liked the style) but poor engine choices and mechanical failures eventurally did them in.
The old Jag Saloon is a classic beauty with graceful lines and a purposeful stance. The silver one below shows that and sports the famous "leaper" hood ornament as well.
What is it about an old car like this that is so heartbreaking?
Is it simple nostalgia, a longing for the good things of the past that are gone? Is the sadness caused by knowing that people worked very hard on this machine, made it the best they knew how at the time, and now, except for a few remaining copies, it's gone and won't come back? Is it because the car's production dates remind us of the great struggle of WWII and the millions of hearts broken from separation and loss during its horror?
I don't know the answer. I just know that there's more than beauty--and there's a lot of that in this case--working on my emotions when I look at a car like this.
The Victor Sylvester orchestra has probably finished with its smooth rendition of "You're Breaking My Heart" by now.
Suppose we conclude our look at Chief Inspector Alleyn's beautiful SS Jaguar Saloon with a nice, walk around video. This was prepared by a proud present day owner of one of these splendid automobiles. Pay special attention to the clever and complete tool kit in the trunk. It's a fine luxurious touch that shows the careful attention the car's designers paid to each detail. It also reminds one that this is, indeed, a Jaguar, and even though its beauty is beyond question, a tool kit might come in handy.
Joyce and I have been enjoying another English TV Detective series we found on Netflix, The Inspector Alleyn Mysteries. Though the setting is England in the postwar years, 1945-49, the series was produced and originally aired between 1990-1994 and consists of number one (the pilot episode) and 8 other episodes, all approximately 90 minutes in length. Netflix only has 6 (2-7) of the episodes.
The three episodes we've viewed so far have all been good fun because of (1) the excellent writing, (2) the superb acting of Patrick Malhide (Alleyn), William Simons ( Inspector Fox, Alleyn's loyal and effective assitant), and Belinda Lang (Agatha Troy, Alleyn's girlfriend) and, of course in my case at least, (3) Alleyn's personal car.
I've spent a couple of days googling around on the internet, comparing the details I noted while viewing the series with images of various British automobiles manufactured during the time frame of the series. I concluded that the Chief Inspector's personal car is a saloon (sedan) model offered by the SS company between 1935 and 1940, and again between 1945 and 1949. The SS company stopped production during WWII.
No. It wasn't the first Super Sport Chevy.
Nor was it a car manufactured by the German Schutzstaffel (SS).
It was built by the Swallow Sidecar company who had originally manufactured motorcycle sidecars. Also, the saloon model that year was called the SS Jaguar Saloon and featured a 2.5 liter engine. Wiki says,
The Swallow Sidecar Company was founded in 1922 by two motorcycle enthusiasts, William Lyons andWilliam Walmsley leading to SS Cars Ltd. In 1935 the SS Jaguar name first appeared on a 2.5-litre saloon,[8] sports models of which were the SS 90 and SS 100.
So, what we're talking about here is the first Jaguar.
And I do love Jaguars, remember? I owned a 2000 XK8 which I sold last year (sigh).
The body style was virtually unchanged during it's run, so the 1935 Saloon looks pretty much like the 1949 model. The SS company changed over from coachbuilt (wood based) construction to all steel in 1938. There were three engines, the 1.5 litre (a four cylinder), the 2.5 litre (a six), and the 3.5 litre (also a six). I'm not sure, but my guess is that the one used in the Alleyn TV series is a six; I'm basing that on the sound. Of course, the Foley artists who work on film and video can do wonders with motor sounds, so the sound on screen could be misleading.
The cars are very low slung and have rakish suicide doors. This is picture of a 1937 Saloon which looks very much like the one in the TV series, including the fender mounted spare. Believe me, the picture doesn't do it justice.
The SS Jaguar 100, a four place, drop head coupe powered by the 2.5 or 3.5 litre engine was introduced in 1936. Wiki says this coupe is considered by many to be the finest looking automobile ever made. It's the ancestor of my old 2000 XK8 and the new 2013 XK.
Here's a 1948 Saloon model with the uncovered fender spare. This angle shows the car's sexy looking, curvaceous rear end.
The old Jag Saloon is a classic beauty with graceful lines and a purposeful stance. The silver one below shows that and sports the famous "leaper" hood ornament as well.
What is it about an old car like this that is so heartbreaking?
I don't know the answer. I just know that there's more than beauty--and there's a lot of that in this case--working on my emotions when I look at a car like this.
The Victor Sylvester orchestra has probably finished with its smooth rendition of "You're Breaking My Heart" by now.
Suppose we conclude our look at Chief Inspector Alleyn's beautiful SS Jaguar Saloon with a nice, walk around video. This was prepared by a proud present day owner of one of these splendid automobiles. Pay special attention to the clever and complete tool kit in the trunk. It's a fine luxurious touch that shows the careful attention the car's designers paid to each detail. It also reminds one that this is, indeed, a Jaguar, and even though its beauty is beyond question, a tool kit might come in handy.
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