Here are my parents, somewhere in eastern Canada, circa 1952. Jobs were hard to come by and, during some periods, they didn't eat much. They don't look very happy either.
Things soon improved. My folks were married in 1953—they had to wait for my Grandmother (Oma) to arrive from Germany. Then it was off to the other coast—British Columbia—where there was more work for an electrician. Annie came along in 1954 and I arrived fourteen months later.
This picture was likely taken in 1957.
By 1958, we were living in a home on a street overlooking Vancouver. Here are Annie, Prince, and I in our backyard. I recall the endless gloom and rain and the spectacular views of the blustery weather and the beautiful city and ocean. And the music on the radio: "Volare," doo-wop, etc. And "fish and chips" down at the harbor. You have no idea!
Annie, looking deceptively innocent.
This is a scene from my second or third birthday (hence 1957 or 1958).
My dad got a mention in this 1957 trade paper (in Kitimat, BC, near Alaska).
Herb Frey was another German immigrant.
This morning, I gave my dad a ride to town to pick up his truck from the shop. I mentioned these pictures. He said that he had lots of great Canadian (i.e., English-speaking, et al.) friends back in
Canada (including Bill Lee above), but it seemed clear that immigrants were frozen out of significant positions of leadership or authority. And educational opportunities were lacking. Everything pointed to moving to the U.S., he said, and to California in particular.
That, of course, was my parents' dream all along.
Herb Frey was another German immigrant.
This morning, I gave my dad a ride to town to pick up his truck from the shop. I mentioned these pictures. He said that he had lots of great Canadian (i.e., English-speaking, et al.) friends back in
Canada (including Bill Lee above), but it seemed clear that immigrants were frozen out of significant positions of leadership or authority. And educational opportunities were lacking. Everything pointed to moving to the U.S., he said, and to California in particular.
That, of course, was my parents' dream all along.
I still thrill to the cheesy organ, the cool tempo change, and all the rest.
I don't know what this guy's sayin', but the song speaks to me, man.
I'm a big fan of the cult fave Alex Chilton, who died not long ago. I was amazed to discover years ago that Chilton actually did a cover of this song, complete with Italian lyrics!
I'm a big fan of the cult fave Alex Chilton, who died not long ago. I was amazed to discover years ago that Chilton actually did a cover of this song, complete with Italian lyrics!
Back in the sixties, I was a huge Turtles fan. Still love 'em. It seemed odd to me that I always loved their (and the Mothers') versions of old doo-wop songs, such as this one, "Tear Drops." Only later did I realize that I had grown to love this music when I was three or four years old, listening to my parents' records and to the radio on the endless drives we took, seemingly to nowhere.
• The original recording, by Lee Andrews and the Hearts (1957).
• "Go Cry On Somebody Else's Shoulder," Frank Zappa (and the Mothers of Invention), 1966.
• "Later that Night," Frank Zappa (and the Mothers of Invention), 1968.
• "Only You," the Platters, 1955.
20 comments:
Just noticed your "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley on here - one of my all time favorites. Actually, I like almost every cover and arrangement of that song that I've ever heard. Gonna play it now and go to sleep...ES
Don't forget Leonard Cohen--another Canadian.
Great stuff here!
I do think that L Cohen is a great songwriter--and Hallelujah" illustrates the point nicely. As a performer, though, h'se strictly a ladies man, IMO. --BvT
Well, you're quite wrong, but entitled to your opinion of course.
His voice alone, sheesh.
I'm with you on "Hallelujah," ES. Wonderful song.
MAH
I hate to say it, but I find Leonard Cohen's singing kind of -------- (gasp) *boring.*
Totally incorrect, I know.
MAH
But I completely agree with you. And Buckley's singing of "Hallelujah" is what put that song "on the map". ES
Incorrect and wrong, MAH. Sort of like saying Dylan has a bad voice and should be avoided.
Try "Sisters of Mercy" or the incomparable "Everybody Knows" for a review.
Ah, but 1:28, it's not really like that all. Notice that there is no "bad voice" or "should be avoided" judgment in my comment; only a report that *I* find Cohen's singing boring. I checked out those two great songs you mentioned, as sung by Cohen; alas, though they are among his better ones, still....
So while BvT finds Cohen to be sort of "for women only," he's not for "all" women, I guess is one point I'm making (since I am female).
And I like lots of "bad" voices, Dylan's and the wonderful Neil Young's among them.
MAH
p.s. Thank you for chiming in, BS! I always knew you were a woman of exquisite taste.
:)
MAH
I think you meant that for me, but you called me "BS". (I thought you were making a small joke, since the thread of comments has referred to what appeals to women, so I scrolled up through the comments looking for BS's contribution but did not find it...)
Any-hoo, thank you for the compliment - we should form a mutual admiration club, as I feel the same way about you! :) ES
As a last attempt, I direct you to the soundtrack from McCabe and Mrs. Miller. Can you truly say "boring" to such wonderful renditions?
Sigh.
Good lord, ES; I did, indeed, mean you! Pure carelessness and attention deficit exhibited there. :)
I truly sympathize with how you feel, 5:02, if it is any comfort. I've had similar experiences with cretins (just kidding!) who cannot like *any* country music, and others who just did not see the attraction of something I love. My very own sister once confessed to me (to my amazed horror) that though she knows she *should* like Billie Holiday (whom I adore), she just doesn't.
Perhaps it's sort of like what's happened to my taste in beers over the years: I don't like any microbrews, and actually dislike most of them. Yet I know that they are good, indeed often excellent beers, by the standards that many (both knowledgeable and amateur) use. I'll find myself in the bizarre position of saying to a well-meaning friend who makes me try one: "Well, I *know* it's a good beer; I just don't like it!"
Life is strange. Being *human* is extra strange.
MAH
Sometimes, being MAH is strange. She went through a period of love of Scotch. I used to watch her buy the stuff. I swear to you that there was a one-to-one correlation between price and her assessment of quality. I just new that, were I to switch prices, she'd go for the cheap stuff.
Naturally, she will deny this. Do not believe her protestations.
A picture question: the first one, with them walking on the sidewalk--do you know who took it? It appears to be a spontaneous shot, like for a newspaper, unlike something a friend with a camera may take.
Just curious.
I'll ask.
Hey!
Actually, I may not deny it-- with the exception of the execrable (and expensive) "LaFroig" Scotch, which is prized by some, but which tastes (horribly) of woodsmoke.
Being me IS strange, though. Nowadays, I can't stand the taste of Scotch!
Irish Whiskey is another matter altogether.
MAH
Right you are, 11:29. My folks now tell me that they were in downtown Vancouver in late 1953, and this guy made his money taking picture of strangers and then handing 'em a card--so they could retrieve the photo, for a price. So that's how this was taken.
Mom says that she was pregnant with Annie at the time, and my dad had no work. The promised job (in Vancouver) did not materialize, and so they slept in their car and kept low. They were leaving White's Cafeteria when the picture was taken. Eventually, the job did materialize, and things turned around. My mom worked for a Jewish couple in town while my dad worked way out in the Canadian "bush" for several months as an electrician. I tried to ask about the couple, but my folks are easily distracted. By birds and noises and roaring sisters.
MAH, pace!
Just a little aggressive humor for you.
(But it's true.)
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