King Alfred Press

Home » Posts tagged '1963'

Tag Archives: 1963

FATS DOMINO

07-fats_circa1970-mezz

This week for our cultural article, we will be celebrating the life of Fats Domino: the legendary New Orleans rock ‘n’ roller who died last Tuesday at the age of eighty-nine.

Fats Domino was born Antoine Dominique Domino, Jr. on February 26th, 1928, in New Orleans, Louisiana. He was the youngest of Antoine Caliste Domino’s (1879 – 1964) and Marie-Donatille Gros’ (1886 – 1971) eight children. and introduced him to New Orleans’ music scene, which would be a major influence on his later music. Fats’ came from a musical family. At seven-years-old, he was taught to play the piano by his brother-in-law, Harrison Verret (1907 – 1965). Additionally, Verret also introduced Fats to the New Orleans’ music scene, which would become a major influence on his later music.

By the age of ten, Fats was performing as a singer and a pianist. Four years later, he dropped out of school completely to pursue a career in music. To support himself during this time, Fats took on odd jobs – factory work, hauling ice, and so forth. By 1946, Fats had begun playing leading piano with the well-known New Orleans bass player and bandleader, Billy Diamond (1916 – 2011). It was Diamond who gave Domino the nickname, “Fats”. Years later, Diamond would reminisce:

“I knew Fats from hanging out at a grocery store. He reminded me of Fats Waller and Fats Pichon. Those guys were big names and Antoine—that’s what everybody called him then—had just got married and gained weight. I started calling him ‘Fats’ and it stuck.”

Diamond’s audiences were impressed by Fat’s rare talents and by the end of the 1940s the New Orleans’ pianist had attracted a very substantial following. As a musician, Fats was versed in numerous musical styles – blues, boogie-woogie, ragtime – and had drawn inspiration from pianists like Meade Lux Lewis (1895 – 1964) and singers like Louis Jordan (1908 – 1975).

In 1949, Fats met his long-term collaborator, Dave Bartholomew (1920 – ). Around the same time, Fats signed a record contract with Imperial Records. Fats’ first song with the label, The Fat Man (a play on his own nickname), would sell a million copies and reach number two on the Rhythm and Blues Charts.

Fats stood out as a performer due to the combination of his baritone voice, unique piano-playing style, the saxophone rifts of Herbert Hardesty (1925 – 2016), and the drum after-beats of Earl Palmer (1924 – 2008). The release of Ain’t That A Shame in 1955 exposed Fats to the mainstream public and helped make him the most popular African American rock ‘n’ roll artist. His upward trajectory continued with two film performances in 1956: Shake, Rattle and Rock, and the Girl Can’t Help It, and the recording of five top-forty hits, including, My Blue Heaven, and Blueberry Hill (which reached number two).

By the early 1960s, however, Fats music had lost much of its original popularity. In 1963, he moved to ABC-Paramount Records and parted ways with his long-time collaborator, Dave Bartholomew. The arrangement would be short lived with Fats parting ways with ABC-Paramount, returning to New Orleans, and rekindling his professional relationship with Dave Bartholomew in 1965.

Fats and Bartholomew would collaborate until 1970, culminating in the 1968 cover of The Beatles’ Lady Madonna (ironically, a tribute to Fats Domino in and of itself). During this time, Fats failed to experience significant chart success. In 1986, Fats was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as part of their inaugural lists.

Fats retired from touring following a health scare in Europe in 1995. Outside of the occasional performance at the New Orleans’ Jazz and Heritage Festival, he lived a mostly private life with his wife, Rosemary Hall (1930 – 2008), and his eight children. In 1998, Fats accepted a National Medal of the Arts from President Bill Clinton (1946 – ).

Fats refused to leave New Orleans – and abandon his sick wife – during Hurricane Katrina. His home was badly flooded and he lost most of his possessions. He was rescued by the Coast Guard on September First. Following the disaster, Fats released Alive and Kicking and donated a proportion of the sales to the Tipitana Foundation which helped New Orleans’ struggling musicians.

Following the album’s release, Fats retreated back into private life and largely shunned publicity. In 2008, Rosemary Hall, his wife of fifty years, died of chronic illness. Fats joined her on October 26th, 2017, at the age of eighty-nine.

Fats Domino must be credited as a key pioneer of rock ‘n’ roll. Together with Jerry Lee Lewis (1935 – ) and Little Richard (1932 – ), Fats style of piano playing helped define the new genre of music and inspired dozens of future musicians. No wonder The Rolling Stone Record Guide likened him to Benjamin Franklin (1706 – 1790).

CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS

maxresdefault

Next Monday will mark fifty-five years since the Cuban Missile Crisis. For thirteen days, the world held its collective breath as tensions between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics reached boiling point. Whoever averted the crisis would be glorified in the annals of history, whoever escalated it would be responsible for the annihilation of life on earth.

Our story begins in July, 1962, when Cuban dictator Fidel Castro (1926 – 2016) and Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev (1894 – 1971) came to a secret agreement to deter another US-backed invasion attempt (the US had previously backed the disastrous Bay of Pigs operation, and were planning another invasion called ‘Operation Mongoose’) by planting nuclear missiles on Cuban soil. On September 4th, routine surveillance flights discovered the general build-up of Soviet arms, including Soviet IL-28 bombers. President John F. Kennedy (1917 – 1963) issued a public warning against the introduction of offensive weapons in Cuba.

Another surveillance flight on October 14th discovered the existence of medium-range and immediate range ballistic nuclear weapons in Cuba. President Kennedy met with his advisors to discuss options and direct a course of action. Opinions seemed to be divided between sending strong warnings to Cuba and the Soviet Union and using airstrikes to eliminate the threat followed by an immediate invasion. Kennedy chose a third option. He would use the navy to ‘quarantine Cuba’ – a word used to legally distinguish the action from a blockade (an act of war).

kennedy-khrushchev-pKennedy then sent a letter to Khrushchev stating that the US would not tolerate offensive weapons in Cuba and demanded the immediate dismantling of the sites and the return of the missiles to the Soviet Union. Finally, Kennedy appeared on national television to explain the crisis and its potential global consequences to the American people. Directly echoing the Monroe doctrine, he told the American people: “It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.” The Joint Chief of Staff then declared a military readiness level of DEFCON 3.

On October 23rd, Khrushchev replied to Kennedy’s letter claiming that the quarantining of Cuba was an act of aggression and that he had ordered Soviet ships to proceed to the island. When another US reconnaissance flight reported that the Cuban missile sites were nearing operational readiness, the Joint Chiefs of Staff responded by upgrading military readiness to DEFCON 2. War involving Strategic Air Command was imminent.

On October 26th, Kennedy complained to his advisors that it appeared only military action could remove the missiles from Cuba. Nevertheless, he continued to pursue a diplomatic resolution. That afternoon, ABC News correspondent, John Scali (1918 – 1995), informed the White House that he had been approached by a Soviet agent who had suggested that the Soviets were prepared to remove their missiles from Cuba if the US promised not to proceed with an invasion. The White House scrambled to determine the validity of this offer. Later that evening, Khrushchev sent Kennedy a long, emotional message which raised the spectre of nuclear holocaust and suggested a resolution similar to that of the Soviet agent: “if there is no intention to doom the world to the catastrophe of thermonuclear war, then let us not only relax the forces pulling on the ends of the rope, let us take measures to untie the knot. We are ready for this.”

Hope was short-lived. The next day Khrushchev sent Kennedy another message demanding the US remove its Jupiter missiles from Turkey as a part of any resolution. That same day, a U2 Spy Plane was shot down over Cuba.

Kennedy and his advisors now planned for an immediate invasion of Cuba. Nevertheless, slim hopes for a diplomatic resolution remained. It was decided to respond the Khrushchev’s first message. In his message, Kennedy suggested possible steps towards the removal of the missiles from Cuba, suggested the whole business take place under UN supervision, and promised the US would not invade Cuba. Meanwhile, Attorney General Robert Kennedy (1925 – 1968) met secretly with the Soviet Ambassador to America, Anatoly Dobrynin (1919 – 2010). Attorney General Kennedy indicated that the US was prepared to remove its Jupiter missiles from Turkey but that it could not be part of any public resolution.

On the morning of October 28th, Khrushchev issued a public statement. The Soviet missiles stationed in Cuba would be dismantled and returned to the Soviet Union. The United States continued its quarantine of Cuba until the missiles had been removed, and withdrew its Navy on November 20th. In April 1963, the US removed its Jupiter missiles from Turkey. The world breathed a sigh of relief.

The Cuban Missile Crisis symbolises both the terrifying spectre of nuclear holocaust, and the power of diplomacy in resolving differences. By forming an intolerable situation, the presence of nuclear weapons forced Kennedy and Khrushchev to favour diplomatic, rather than militaristic, resolutions. In the final conclusion, it must be acknowledged that nuclear weapons, and the knowledge and technology to produce them, will always exist. The answer, therefore, cannot be to rid the world of nuclear weapons but learn to live peacefully in a world that has them.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

road_not_taken_

This week for our cultural article, we will be examining Robert Frost’s (1874 – 1963) poem, The Road Not Taken.

First appearing in Frost’s poetry collection, Mountain Interval, in 1916, The Road Not Taken is one of America’s most enduring poems. It has become a part of our cultural lexicon, appearing in in numerous films and books, among other mediums, including, most notably,  Dead Poet’s Society (1989), as well as in advertisements for Nicorette, Mentos, AIG, Ford, and more.

ROBERT FROST

frost

Robert Lee Frost was born in San Francisco, California, on March 26th, 1874, to William Prescott Frost, Jr. (185- – 1885), a journalist, and Isabella Moodie (1844 – 1900). William Frost would die of tuberculosis when Frost was eleven years old. Shortly after, he would move with his mother and younger sister, Jeanie, to Lawrence, Massachusetts.

It was during high school that Frost first developed an interest in poetry and literature.   In 1892, Frost enrolled at Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire. He dropped out after only two months and took a series of menial jobs – teacher, cobbler, and editor of the Lawrence Sentinel, among others – to support himself. Later he would attend Harvard University but would drop out due to poor health.

Robert Frost published his first poem, The Butterfly, in the New York newspaper, The Independent, in 1894. On December 19th, 1895, Frost married Elinor Miriam White (1873 -1938), with whom he had shared valedictorian honours in high school. Together, the couple would have six children, only two of whom would live to see old age. Elliot Frost, born 1896, would die of Cholera in 1900. Carol Frost, born 1902, would commit suicide in 1940. Marjorie Frost, born 1905, would die in childbirth in 1935. Elinor Frost, born 1907, would die in infancy. Only Leslie Frost, born 1899, and Irma Frost, born 1903, would live to see old age.

After failing to generate enough income as farmers in New Hampshire, the Frosts emigrated to England in 1912. There Robert Frost made numerous friends, and garnered inspiration, with various British poets and writers. Among these were Edward Thomas (1878 – 1917), Rupert Brooke (1887 – 1915), Robert Graves (1895 – 1985), and Ezra Pound (1885 – 1972) – who helped Frost publish and promote his poetry. The Frosts returned to America in 1915. By this time, Robert Frost had published two collections of his poetry, A Boy’s Hill, published 1913, and North of Boston, published in 1914.

By the 1920s, Robert Frost had become the most celebrated poet in America. He received more and more accolades, which included Pulitzer prizes, with every collection of poetry he published.

In 1938, Robert Frost was widowed when his wife, Elinor, lost her battle with breast cancer. He never remarried. Between 1958 and 1959, Frost served as the consultant for poetry at the Library of Congress. Robert Frost died in Boston, Massachusetts, on January 29th, 1963. He was eighty-eight years old.

THE POEM

2914584_2d7ca269

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
ANALYSIS
road-not-taken-robert-frost
As a poem, The Road Not Taken is unique in two regards. First, certain lines from it have become so absorbed by our culture that people have forgotten where they come from. And second, it is one of the most ambiguous poems in American culture.
In short, it is one of those poems that everyone knows, but few have properly read. The problem lies in the fact that for such a seemingly simple poem, The Road Not Taken can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. This is caused by two factors. First, the reader himself, who will invariably interpret the poem according to his own worldview. And second, the poem’s ambiguous nature. Who, for instance, is the narrator of the poem? Is it an unnamed narrator, or is it, perhaps, Robert Frost himself? It is this factor that partly explains the poem’s longstanding popularity: because it is so ambiguous, we are able to take from it what we like, not what the poet demands.
Much of the poem’s ambiguity can be found in the distinction between the road “not travelled” and the road “less travelled.” The road “not travelled” seems to refer to the path the narrator does not take. However, it could just as easily refer to a road that is not taken by others. The road “less travelled”, by contrast, seems to refer to the path people take less often.
One thing is clear, however: this is a poem about free will. The narrator comes to a fork in a road in the woods and is forced to decide between two different paths. Initially, the narrator feels that one path is worn more than the other, but later decides that time had “worn them really about the same.” The road described in the poem is both literal and figurative. It refers to both the actual roads and paths we drive and walk upon, and to the decisions we have to make in life.

THE NIGHT THEY DROVE OLD DIXIE DOWN

article-2203885-14fdc3ce000005dc-701_634x515

This week for our cultural article we will be examining The Band‘s 1969 folk-rock song, The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.

BACKGROUND

Rolling Stone magazine has described The Band as a group that “linked American folklore to primal myths.” They were founded in 1958 when Ronnie Hawkins (1935 – ) formed a backing band that would become known as Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks. The first future Band member to join would be drummer Levon Helm (1940 – 2012).

Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks toured the American south. This was followed by a tour of Ontario, Canada.  While in Canada, Willard Jones departed and Ronnie Hawkins was forced to hire a new pianist. He found one in Scott Cushnie. However, Cushnie would only agree to join if Hawkin’s hired Robbie Robertson (1943 – ) as well. Reluctantly, Hawkins agreed, and Robertson replaced Jimmy Evans on bass. After a short while, Robertson would be moved to rhythm guitar, playing behind Fred Carter’s (1933 – 2010), and, briefly, Roy Buchanan’s ((1939 – 1988)) lead.

In 1961, Rick Danko (1943 – 1999) joined Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks on bass. This was followed by the arrival of Garth Hudson (1937), a classically trained organ player who could read music.

1959 to 1963 were Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks glory years. Hawkins himself even sported a quasi-Elvis like quality. However, he was also quickly becoming the odd man out in the group. By the summer of 1963, Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks had parted ways.

Following Hawkin’s departure, The Hawks selected Levon Helm to be their frontman and renamed themselves, alternatively, Levon and the Hawks, and Canadian Squires.

It was their work as Bob Dylan’s (1941 – ) backing band that first brought The Band to attention. The group had first been introduced to Dylan by blues singer, John Hammond, Jr. (1942 – ). Initially, Dylan only hired Helm and Robertson but was quickly encouraged to hire the rest of the group, as well.

With Dylan, The Band was forced to reconcile themselves with a new kind of music and a new type of audience. With Ronnie Hawkins, they had played as a tightly formed musical unit playing rhythm and blues-based rock. Their chief influences were the music put out by Chess Records in Chicago and Sun Records in Memphis. Most of their audiences were interested in having a good time. With Dylan, on the other hand, they were forced to adapt to electric adaptations of folk songs to audiences who seemed determined to reject them, if only on principle.

In October of 1967, the group had been writing their own songs. They were signed to Capitol Records and adopted the name, The Band. Their first album was 1968’s, Music From Big Pink. Their first album, 1968’s Music From Big Pink, managed to gain a mystique similar to albums like Beggar’s Banquet (1968) and Abbey Road (1969).

Between 1969 and 1975, The Band enjoyed great influence and popularity. They followed their first album with 1969’s The Band. This was followed by Stage Fright in 1970. Later that year, The Band would tour with Janis Joplin (1943 – 1970) and The Grateful Dead on the Festival Express Canadian concert tour.

Unfortunately, cracks were already beginning to appear with The Band‘s framework. Robbie Robertson was exerting greater control of the group. Helm argued that Robertson was being authoritarian and greedy, but Robertson justified himself by arguing that Helm, Danko, and Richard Manuel’s (1943 – 1986) heroin usage were making them increasingly more unreliable. Despite their troubles, The Band released Cahoots in 1971. This was followed by the live album Rock of Ages. In 1973, The Band released Moondog Matinee.

On November 25th, 1976, The Band gave their final farewell performance. The concert, which would later be dubbed The Last Waltz, would feature guests Joni Mitchell (1943 – ), Ronnie Hawkins, Bob Dylan, Muddy Waters (1913 – 1983), Dr. John (1940 – ), Van Morrison (1945 – ), Ringo Starr (1940 – ), Eric Clapton (1945 – ), Ronnie Wood (1947 – ), Bobby Charles (1938 – 2010), Neil Diamond (1941 – ),  and Paul Butterfield (1942 – 1987).

The Band released their final album, Islands, in 1977 and disbanded later that year.

LYRICS

mi0000720925

Virgil Caine is the name and I served on the Danville train
‘Til Stoneman’s cavalry came and tore up the tracks again.
In the winter of ’65, we were hungry, just barely alive.
By May the tenth, Richmond had fell,
It’s a time I remember, oh so well

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing,
They went, “La, la, la”

Back with my wife in Tennessee,
When one day she called to me:
“Virgil, quick, come see, there goes Robert E.Lee.”
Now I don’t mind choppin’ wood
And I don’t care if the money’s no good.
You take what ya need and you leave the rest,
But they should never have taken the very best.

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing,
They went, “La, la, la”

Like my father before me, I will work the land.
And like my brother above me, who took a rebel stand.
He was just eighteen, proud and brave
But a Yankee laid him in his grave.
I swear by the mud below my feet
You can’t raise a Caine back up when he’s in defeat

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing,
They went, “La, la, la”

The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the bells were ringing.
The night they drove old Dixie down,
And the people were singing
They went, “La, la, la”

INTERPRETATION

richmond_virginia_damage

The story of The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down begins in August of 1968 when Robbie Robertson was inspired to write a song about the “beautiful sadness” of the South. The finished song would appear on The Band‘s self-titled second album: a concept album that used people, places, and traditions within Americana as musical themes.

The song is set to the backdrop of the American Civil War (1861 – 1865). In his book, American Oracle, historian David Blight (1949 – ), explained how the Civil War helped define the United States’ self-conception:

“For reasons explored in this work and elsewhere, the American Civil War has been forever an event that for reasons explored in this work and elsewhere, the American Civil War has been forever an event that fiercely resists popular consensus about its causes and consequences; despite voluminous research and overwhelming scrutiny, it remains the mythic national epic. As a broad culture, Americans seem incapable of completely shucking this event from its protective shells of sentimentalism, romance,  and pathos in order to see to its heart of tragedy. It might be argued that this is rightly so with national epics—they should or can never be utterly deromanticized. Or it might be argued that such epics are also dangerous to national self-understanding, to a healthy, informed confrontation with the meaning of the most important elements of our past, and therefore the imperatives of the present.  Modern nations are and always have been built upon their narratives of origin and development, and in this case, of destruction and rebirth. This study of the Civil War’s literary and intellectual history,  as well as its popular memory, engages the compelling question of how the United States, to an important degree, is the stories it tells itself about its Civil War and its enduring aftermath.”

This setting, of course, is a large part of the song’s appeal. Music journalist, Greil Marcus (1945 – ) wrote in his book, Mystery Train, that The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down had less to do with the Civil War itself and more to do with “the way each American carries a version of that event within himself.” Marcus went on to write:

“It is hard for me to comprehend how any Northerner, raised on a very different war than Virgil Kane’s,  could listen to this song without finding himself changed. You can’t get out from under the singer’s  truth—not the whole truth, but his truth—and the little autobiography closes the gap between us.  The performance leaves behind a feeling that for all our oppositions, every American still shares this old event; because to this day none of us has escaped its impact, what we share is an ability to respond to a story like this one.

Similarly, Rolling Stone‘s Ralph J. Gleason  (1917 – 1975) wrote that the song echoed Robert Penn Warren’s (1905 – 1989) sentiment of the Civil War as “history lived in our national imagination”:

“Nothing I have read … has brought home the overwhelming human sense of history that this song does.  The only thing I can relate it to at all is The Red Badge of Courage. It’s a remarkable song, the  rhythmic structure, the voice of Levon and the bass line with the drum accents and then the heavy  close harmony of Levon, Richard and Rick in the theme, make it seem impossible that this isn’t some  traditional material handed down from father to son straight from that winter of 1865 to today. It has  that ring of truth and the whole aura of authenticity.”

The Band‘s The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down demonstrates how music and words can be used to give meaning and depth to a nation’s historical experiences.