Timeless Christmas songs from my growing-up years

Happy holidays this season and always!

We interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming on this substack — the protest song series — to bring you this special bulletin.

It’s Christmas, darling, and we’re celebrating with a jump back in time to when I was a wee lass, caught up in the holiday season and beside myself with excitement over the impending visit of Santa.

Although I eventually learned through the schoolyard grapevine that he was not real (and sadly, not the delightful Edmund Gwenn in Miracle on 34th Street), I was sworn to secrecy for my little brother’s sake and still got my share of packages from the jolly bearded fellow in the red, fur-trimmed suit. “To Ellen, Love Santa.” Fine by me, Mom and Dad!

If you’re not American, or you don’t celebrate Christmas, or you didn’t celebrate the holidays back in the ancient years of my youth, don’t worry, as the songs I’m going to share with you are popular classics and — guaranteed! — will warm the cockles of your heart and even, in some cases, tug at your normally resistant heartstrings. They are that good, and, in my estimation, well worth the investment of your time and attention to give them a listen.

If you want to know who influenced my taste in Christmas music back then and, full disclosure, right up to this very day, you’re looking at ‘em.

Lee and Jan (above, with me in-between) were the quintessential suburban sixties couple. Dad met Mom in the early fifties through his hell-raising escapades with her brother, Junior. Dad’s nickname was “Popeye” because he was a small guy, just an inch over five feet, who would brawl in bars with the best of them. And I know for a fact that he ate his spinach.

Despite Dad’s family thinking Jan wasn’t good enough — they had considered the girlfriend before her even worse, “loud and brash” according to Aunt Dot — he decided to marry and settle down with her in a house he built in the suburbs and gifted her with two unruly and mouthy kids. (The other two trouble-makers would arrive later.)

Every year we had a get-together with Dad’s extended family on Christmas Eve and with Mom’s family on Christmas afternoon. Mom was good-natured about going to the in-laws whereas Dad always groused, complaining that Grandma (below) buttered his toast without asking. She did butter everyone’s toast, made from the most delicious Italian-American bread, before it got too cold.

She never sat down either, my grandfather always exclaiming “Siddown, Pearl!”, something we loved to imitate. Grandpa (below) was also renowned for bribing us to scratch his back with sticks of Wrigley’s spearmint or teaberry gum.

As you can see from the photo of my parents, we didn’t believe in getting dressed on Christmas Day unless we left the house, a tradition I honor to this day. That fuzzy red sweater was one of my Christmas presents, which I adored and insisted on wearing over my unmatching flannel nightgown.

I don’t remember those skis, assume that they were my brother’s and I was just holding them for dramatic effect as he snapped the photo with his new camera from Santa. (The film would not get developed for many months, my parents being my parents, and also overwhelmed by a new kid.)

My father had the ever-present Camel or Winston cigarette between his fingers, à la Rat Packers Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Frank Sinatra (below) and most of his peers.

Mom was pregnant with my second brother, due to be born in early January, causing her new pink robe to bulge. Every Christmas Dad would take me and my brother with him to Burt’s on the Avenue to buy her a new robe, holding up something similar to what he’d given her the year before and asking our opinion as we chased one another around the racks. At least he didn’t get her power tools like some dads.

Those eyeglasses. Those curtains. The Christmas tree twinkling in the bow window behind Mom, giving her an angel’s wings and halo. The barely-seen enormous television behind Dad. I really miss the sixties — except for those severe Bettie Page bangs Mom insisted on giving me in spite of my protests. She would’ve given me pouffy retro fifties hair like hers if I had let her. (She once had the beauty parlor give me a Shirley Temple perm when I said over and over again that I wanted banana curls like my favorite doll. No more visits to that salon after the temper tantrum I threw, but also no more perms like Mom’s 1930s childhood idols.)

This substack has been, to some extent, a product of nostalgia triggered by my high school reunion. So, not surprisingly, the songs in this post are those that enriched my growing-up years in Endwell, accompanied by memories that reveal why they were so special to me. I hope you enjoy this festive jump back in time to the swingin’ sixties.

And oh yeah. I do have one more favorite not included in this list. It’s on a Christmas playlist over on Dan Epstein’s substack. Check out my Tony Bennett selection there, along with the holiday favorites of an intriguing bunch of other substack writers.

OK now, hang on to the sleigh, because here we go…

[Clop, clop, clop of horse’s hooves and sleighbell jingle-jangling sound effects]

“White Christmas” by Bing Crosby and Marjorie Reynolds (1942)

Believe me, there was no shortage of sentimental, get-out-the-hankie movies trotted out every year in the lead-up to Christmas. Only three major networks — NBC, ABC, and CBS — and yet we felt spoilt for choice. Luckily, my brother and I pretty much controlled the TV and agreed on what to watch.

My favorite ‘adult’ movie was It’s a Wonderful Life with Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed, a feel-good tearjerker if ever there was one, about a guy who’s planning to throw himself off a bridge until an angel named Clarence shows him how impoverished and corrupt his town would have become if he’d never been born. A holiday must-watch.

I have to admit that White Christmas, with Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, Danny Kaye, and Vera-Ellen flirting, arguing, dancing, falling in love, and — finally! — performing a version of the title song (by Irving Berlin) at an inn in Vermont during a snowstorm, was a close second.

For pure listening pleasure on the hi-fi or radio, I like the original version of “White Christmas” from Holiday Inn the best. Did you know that Bing Crosby’s single is the best-selling physical recording in the world with over 50 million sold?

“The Christmas Waltz” by Frank Sinatra (1957)

Don’t quibble with me over which Frankie tune to include here. I know there are many contenders from his A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra and later Christmas albums, including the single “Mistletoe and Holly” (which I have, but which is not one of my favorites).

My mom had lots of albums by “Ol’ Blue Eyes” and we were enthusiastic and enduring fans of his movies. I think Dad identified with him as a skinny guy who exuded machismo but knew when to run from a fight. Frankie was a down-home guy with street smarts.

Mom, of course, thought he was hot. I myself liked that he was a wisecracker who appreciated trampy ladies who were hungry for dinner before eight (me too!) and invited them to come fly with him, in airplanes and helicopters I presumed.

Let’s also not forget that Frankie founded Reprise Records to give artists creative freedom and ownership, a label that down through the years, until now, has represented a who’s who of artists from a range of genres, including rock ’n’ roll.

Frank’s “The Christmas Waltz” is, in my opinion, unique among all Christmas songs because it makes you want to dance in big sweeping movements around the living room on your tippy toes. Probably because it’s a waltz.

“Sleigh Ride” by Ella Fitzgerald (1960)

The blonde hi-fi cabinet in the photo below — the piece against the wall sporting the pussy willows and Santa Claus sticking out of a vase, a cut glass dish containing various colors of striped ribbon candy, and what looks to be a tall chocolate advent calendar or cardboard Santa decoration — was my mom’s pride and joy.

As you can see, bedlam reigned on that Christmas Day, and on every day actually. A few times a year Mom would go on a spontaneous cleaning and furniture relocation binge, sometimes even going so far as a triple bedroom swap, but otherwise chaos was the order of the day.

If I remember right, the hi-fi had the 33, 45, and 78 rpm turntable on one side, with storage for records below, and the speakers on the other. Mom was the record maven and loved the crooners and the jazz singers. She persuaded Dad to take her to a nightclub to see Nancy Wilson when they visited New York City, the highlight of the trip in her eyes and something she reminisced about for years to come.

Ella Fitzgerald, well-represented in Mom’s record stash, had the best version of “Sleigh Ride” on her 1960 album Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas:

“The Christmas Song” by Nat King Cole (1961)

Mom also loved Nat King Cole, but then who didn’t love that deep, pitch-perfect, smooth-as-eggnog-with-buttermilk voice?

Nat started on the organ at age 4, trained in classical, gospel, and jazz piano, played in nightclubs with his band the King Cole Swingsters (then King Cole Trio), and served as house pianist for Jazz at the Philharmonic before segueing into a career as a pop star.

I knew many of his hits as a girl because Mom loved to play them, including the swinging “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66,” the uber-romantic “(I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons,” the moody “Nature Boy,” and of course the elegant “Unforgettable,” which his daughter Natalie Cole repopularized when she added her voice to his recording.

Nat had a hit with “Frosty the Snowman,” but my favorite Christmas song of his is “The Christmas Song,” which just might be my #1 holiday favorite of all. You know the one: “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…”

“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” by Andy Williams (1963)

Andy Williams earned the name “Mr. Christmas” because he had an immensely popular Christmas special every year in addition to his ongoing variety show series, The Andy Williams Show. Also because he put out eight Christmas albums during his 75-year singing career and originated one of the most popular Christmas songs of all time, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”

He recorded the song, written by vocal director George Wyle and Edward Pola, for his second Christmas show and included it in his first Christmas album issued that same year. By performing it every Christmas thereafter, Andy eventually, over 30 years or so, succeeded in making it into a Christmas standard.

My mom seemed to have all of Andy’s albums, but I don’t remember knowing the song back then. What I can say is that it’s been on just about every Christmas compilation I’ve ever purchased, and I’ve always loved the feeling of joie de vivre it conveys — similar to the giddiness I felt sledding or toboganning down a long, steep hill at the high school or the nearby country club and capsizing at the bottom. Thrilling.

“I’ll Be Home for Christmas” by Doris Day (1964)

Doris Day was the romcom queen of that era, and I adored her in Pillow Talk with Rock Hudson (and her other films with Rock, James Garner, and Cary Grant). Still do, although the subtext in Pillow Talk is no longer lost on me.

She was also a favorite singer, her style harking back to her big band days singing with Les Brown and His Band of Renown. Folks may not realize it now, but she was one of the biggest film and singing stars of the fifties and sixties, capping off her career with a popular sitcom called, of course, The Doris Day Show, which ran from 1968 to 1973.

What also endeared her to me was her early advocacy for animals on film and TV productions and her animal sanctuaries, foundations, and lobbying.

She also managed despite her busy career to raise a talented kid in one Terry Melcher, who became a producer for some not-too-shabby musical acts like the Byrds, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and the Beach Boys.

Doris produced quite a few Christmas covers over the years, and “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” is one of my favorites.

“A Holly Jolly Christmas” by Burl Ives (1964)

The stop-motion animation special Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was a holiday must-watch at my house.

We were glued to the television as Rudolph the misfit reindeer teamed up with Hermey the misfit elf, who yearned to be a dentist, and Yukon Cornelius, the silver and gold prospector. Together they made a daring and heart-stopping escape from the Abominable Snow Monster and sought refuge with all the poor little unwanted and discarded playthings on the Island of Misfit Toys. I get tears in my eyes just thinking about it.

There was even a romantic angle involving Clarice, who told Rudolph he was “cute.”

On top of the killer adventure-and-romance plot and extremely sympathetic characters, you had narration and singing by the incomparable Burl Ives. No wonder this remains a Christmas classic and his songs, including “A Holly Jolly Christmas,” have become holiday standards.

“Christmas Time All Over the World” by Sammy Davis Jr. (1965)

Sammy Davis Jr. made everything look easy — acting, singing, and dancing, crossing the color barrier to achieve extraordinary success in Hollywood and on stage (the first interracial kiss on Broadway), and being bosom buddies with Frank Sinatra and other members of the Rat Pack (and starring in the original Ocean’s Eleven).

It helped that he’d been performing in vaudeville from age two and on screen from age seven. But that belied the fact that he grew up in a segregated America, lost his eye in an automobile accident, and was publicly castigated for dating white women (illegal at that time). As he joked when asked about his golf handicap, “Talk about handicap. I'm a one-eyed Negro who's Jewish.”

Even before his massive hit, “Candy Man,” I was a Sammy Davis Jr. fan. His “Christmas Time All Over the World” was a holiday favorite.

“You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” by Thurl Ravenscroft (1966)

For a kid, there are no more satisfying lyrics than those in the Mr. Grinch song from Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas!.

Btw, I’m so happy that there’s no ‘s’ after the apostrophe and an exclamation point at the end of that title. Kids weren’t coddled with things being easy or making sense in the sixties. The attitude was “Keep up, kid, and if you don’t understand something, just go along and pretend that you do.” Heaven forbid that you asked your parents what something meant. That wasn’t their job, explaining things to you. Go to school and ask your friends, f’crissakes. Do your job and be a confused kid who grows up without proper guidance. We did it; now it’s your turn.

With lyrics like “cuddly as a cactus” and “garlic in your soul,” Dr. Seuss knew how to throw major shade, all packaged in a heartwarming animation starring the Grinch, Cindy Lou Who, and Max, the overworked yet loyal and poorly-disguised-as-a-reindeer dog. Christmas animations don’t get any better than this.

“My Favorite Things” by Barbra Streisand (1967)

My father loved to comment on women’s looks, being a guy who worked and hung out with ‘manly men’ (a term my brother and I loved to throw around). Being the height of the feminist movement, he would make his deliberately sexist comments, I would make my kneejerk protest — “Dad!” — and he would grin with delight.

The funny thing was that Dad fully supported my career aspirations and encouraged me to go into business, but he wasn’t a particular fan of women who made it big. Lucy, Carol Burnett, Barbra Streisand — not top of the scorecard in his books.

I, on the other hand, was fascinated by Barbra, with her Brooklyn accent, expressive hands capped by long, glamorous fingernails, and impeccable Borsch Belt sense of humor and timing. And then there was that voice that could take a standard like “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music and make it sound as if it had been written expressly for her. (Although I love the Julie Andrews versions too.) That unique phrasing and those little Barbra quirks made it sound like a private performance even when issuing from a vinyl record and a stereo sound system. She is a one-off, that girl.

“Merry Christmas, Darling” by The Carpenters (1970)

Among all the songs here, this one is the earworm. Since listening to it a few days ago, it keeps popping into my head whenever I’m not thinking about anything (which is frighteningly often).

There has never been a voice quite like Karen Carpenter’s, combining a drummer’s sense of rhythm and a range to kill for with what I experience as a sense of vulnerability and hopefulness.

I could completely relate to Karen back then as a teenage girl who was trying to navigate the shoals of a social scene and a dating milieu I never quite understood. If you saw me at my high school reunion recently downing a double gin and tonic to deal with my social anxiety, you’d know that I haven’t progressed all that much in the past fifty years.

Karen and I — simpatico. Sisters from different and equally complicated mothers who hoped that, someday, the world might inexplicably make perfect (or at least better!) sense.

The Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah

During high school my friend and I sang in the church youth choir — as did one of my subscribers! — and one year the choir leader, Mr. Fry, who lived right around the corner from me, had us perform the magnificent and daunting Handel’s Messiah at the Christmas service. Reaching those high notes as a soprano was a challenge, and being a bunch of kids we were all over the place, but we had a great time doing it.

The Hallelujah Chorus never fails to move me, but lately it makes me break down in sobs. There is something deeply moving about this piece, something inspired by the Divine, something that speaks of the ineffable and reminds us of our humanity. If we ever lapse in our recognition that music is one of God’s best gifts to us, the Hallelujah Chorus jolts us back to that recognition. Music is one of the basic and irreplaceable elements of life, right up there with fire. We are profoundly blessed to have it.

Happy holidays, everyone! See you after Christmas!