If I had asked my parents and grand-parents
(great-grand-parents no doubt for many of my readers!) which songsters most
appealed to them, two names would be sure to feature – John McCormack and Harry
Lauder. Their heydays were in the first 40 years of the 20th century
and their appeal belonged to that age. Before memories fade, crowded out by the
noisy hordes of modern pop idols, I celebrate these two great artistes.
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| John McCormack |
John McCormack
(1884-1945) was the archetypical Irish lyric tenor. Born of Scots parents in
Athlone, Central Ireland, he was educated by the Marist brothers and later in
Sligo, before winning a prestigious singing prize in Dublin where his voice was
trained. In 1905 his friends had raised enough funds for John to take lessons
and sing in Italy and he made his operatic debut there. He sang in the US, Australia
with Nellie Melba and at Covent Garden but he was not a natural stage actor and
by 1912 he was concentrating on concert performances and on making early
gramophone recordings.
He recorded many operatic arias and his clear, light tenor
voice and excellent breathing control were much admired. It is however as a
singer of traditional and music-hall popular songs that he will be most
remembered. The Minstrel Boy was one
of hundreds and he was the first to record the immortal Great War marching song
It’s a Long Way to Tipperary in 1914.
In 1917 he gave us Keep the Home Fires
Burning and earlier the equally sentimental Mother Machree:
Sure, I love the dear silver
That shines in your hair,
And the brow that's all furrowed,
And wrinkled with care.
I kiss the dear fingers,
So toil-worn for me,
Oh, God bless you and keep you,
Mother Machree.
In 1917, McCormack became an American citizen and
lost audiences in Britain, but not in the US and Australia, by espousing the
nationalist cause in Ireland pushing songs like The Wearing of the Green. His concerts were always a sell-out and
he enjoyed Hollywood fame and riches in 1930 with the early musical Song o’ my Heart. De Valera’s Catholic Ireland was much to his
taste and perhaps the highpoint of his career was his rendition of César
Franck’s Panis Angelicus to a vast
crowd at Phoenix Park, Dublin on the occasion of the Eucharistic Congress there
in 1932. McCormack had a jovial personality and his charitable work was
rewarded in 1928 by his appointment as a Papal Count, a title he used. An Irish
hero, he died of emphysema in Dublin in 1945.
McCormack showed the way for many other Irish lyric
tenors. I worked backstage in 1961 at our family-owned Capitol theatre,
Aberdeen for its summer show. On the bill was a chunky Glasgow-Irish comedian
called Glen Daly. His comic routine was droll and he made me laugh. But when he
started to sing, he entered another higher dimension. I particularly recall
Glen singing the lovely Burns song The
Bonnie Lass of Ballochmyle:
Glen possessed what my dear Mother always referred
to as “a fine set of pipes”; he won some fame as the original performer of The Celtic Song of the famous football
club and he was unmistakably an heir to the melodic tradition of John
McCormack.
…………………………….
Harry
Lauder (1870 –
1950) was a more rough-hewn
character. Born in Portobello, near Edinburgh the family moved to Arbroath
where Harry worked part-time in a flax works so that he could continue to be
educated up to the age of 15.They moved to Hamilton in Lanarkshire and Harry
worked in the mines, but his song-writing and singing talents were noticed. He
sang at local concerts and made a little money, soon being advised to join one
of the many “concert parties” touring the British towns. He had a notable
success in a Theatre Royal, Glasgow pantomime and he quickly became a
well-known theatrical turn, soon adopting his trade mark dress kilt, sporran
and absurd crooked stick.
Harry composed many of his own songs and his
signature tune I love a Lassie was
instantly recognisable.
I love a lassie, a bonnie, bonnie lassie
She's as pure as the lily in the dell
She's as sweet as the heather
The bonnie purple heather
Mary, ma Scotch bluebell.
She's as pure as the lily in the dell
She's as sweet as the heather
The bonnie purple heather
Mary, ma Scotch bluebell.
His act usually comprised 3 of his famous songs, much comic patter
and story–telling and an often sentimental monologue. He created a Scots
stereotype, proud of his kilt, outwitting the city sophisticates, careful with
his money, fond of a drink and jovially praising his native land. His comic
songs were legion I’m the Saftest in the
Family, Stop yer ticklin’ Jock and the old favourite Just a wee Deoch an’ Doris (Gaelic for “a drink at the door”)
Just
a wee deoch an doris, just a wee drop, that's all.
Just a wee deoch an doris afore ye gang awa.
There's a wee wifie waitin' in a wee but an ben.
If you can say, "It's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht",
Then yer a'richt, ye ken.
Just a wee deoch an doris afore ye gang awa.
There's a wee wifie waitin' in a wee but an ben.
If you can say, "It's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht",
Then yer a'richt, ye ken.
By
1912 he was top of the bill at the very first Royal Command Performance given
for George V and his tours of the US, Canada and Australia made him a rich man.
During the First World War he tirelessly entertained the troops, being
described by Churchill as “Scotland’s greatest ever Ambassador” – he was
knighted for his services in 1919. His only son John was killed in action in
December 1916 and Harry wrote one of his most famous songs as some kind of
consolation: Keep Right on to the End of
the Road;
Keep right on to the end of the road
Keep right on to the end
Tho' the way be long, let your heart be strong
Keep right on to the end
Tho’ you're tired and weary still journey on,
Till you come to your happy abode
Where all you love, you've been dreaming of
Will be there, at the end of the road.
Keep right on to the end
Tho' the way be long, let your heart be strong
Keep right on to the end
Tho’ you're tired and weary still journey on,
Till you come to your happy abode
Where all you love, you've been dreaming of
Will be there, at the end of the road.
After the War this song long resonated. My
father recalled Harry Lauder coming to our family theatre His Majesty’s in
Aberdeen in the 1930s. The packed audience contained many widows and bereaved
mothers – rural Scotland had suffered disproportionate casualties. When this
song was struck up, and it always was, there would be weeping and faintings in
the highly emotional atmosphere, but all sang along. Harry retired in 1938 but
still sang on the radio during WW2, dying at Strathaven near Hamilton in 1950.
As a schoolboy at my prep school in the
early 1950s, we were played crackly 12in 78rpm records of Harry Lauder as a
special treat. We loved the songs, though an earlier generation fully glowed
and warmed to their sentiments. Nonetheless tuneful Harry Lauder remains a
proud part of the Scottish heritage.
Roamin' in the gloamin' on the bonny banks o' Clyde
Roamin' in the gloamin' with my lassie by my side
When the sun has gone to rest
That's the time we love the best
Ach, it's lovely roamin' in the gloamin'
Roamin' in the gloamin' with my lassie by my side
When the sun has gone to rest
That's the time we love the best
Ach, it's lovely roamin' in the gloamin'
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| Harry Lauder in later life |
Footnotes
Songs by John McCormack
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Mother Machree http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wj7WMry1-Y
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Songs by Harry Lauder
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Roamin in the Gloamin http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-eqF2fUp4U
SMD
19.01.14
Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2014
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