My ambition is to reach the heart of the average American, not the highbrow nor the lowbrow but that vast intermediate crew which is the real soul of the country. The highbrow is likely to be superficial, overtrained, supersensitive. The lowbrow is warped, subnormal. My public is the real people.
— Irving Berlin
“White Christmas” is the most popular Christmas song ever written. Irving Berlin originally wrote it for another musical. He wrote it 1938, but put it on hold until the Bing Crosby-Fred Astaire film “Holiday Inn” came along in 1942.
We – most of us – feel a nostalgia for days we never even knew. Those who were alive in 1942, like my mother agreed yes, that’s the way everyone felt. But it’s a song being sung in 1942 (written in 1938) expressing nostalgia for ever older olden times. We’re nostalgic, let’s face it, for World War II-era America (without the world war).
But what were the people of 1942 nostalgic for? Nostalgia is more understandable on the part of people living in 1942. They’d experience one world war, which came with a sequel, and in between a brief period of economic prosperity followed by a longer and devastating economic depression, and then the sequel to World War I.
No wonder older people of 1942 looked back in fondness to days of horse-drawn sleighs. They thought they had lost something in the intervening years. We think we’ve lost something that they had in 1942. But what? What had they lost? What had Irving Berlin been thinking of when he wrote the song?
He couldn’t have been thinking of his early childhood back in Siberia. His only memory was lying on the side of a dirt road watching his home being burnt down by the Imperial troops. Mom remembers being a girl in the Great Depression and being so hungry that she chewed on her leather shoes. Dad was only able to get a college education because the City College of New York offered free education to the poor (CCNY, where, he said, Marxism in American education got its start).
Irving Berlin produced over 1,000 songs over a century. If he didn’t have a wonderful life, he certainly had an amazing life. Trying figure out his inspiration for the sentimental “White Christmas,” this is what his biographers reveal:
From irvingberlin.com’s Concise Biography:
Irving Berlin was born Israel Beilin on May 11, 1888. One of eight children, his exact place of birth is unknown, although his family had been living in Tolochin, Byelorussia, when they immigrated to New York in 1893. When his father died, Berlin, just turned 13, took to the streets in various odd jobs, working as a busker (Sheet music companies hired “buskers” or “song pluggers” to travel the city and perform new songs in saloons, vaudeville theaters, and on street corners. By introducing a song to the public in this way, the companies hoped to stimulate sheet music sales.) singing for pennies, then as a singing waiter in a Chinatown Cafe. In 1907 he published his first song, “Marie from Sunny Italy,” and by 1911 he had his first major international hit “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.”
An intuitive business man, Irving Berlin was a co-founder of ASCAP (American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers), founder of his own music publishing company, and with producer Sam Harris, builder of his own Broadway theatre, The Music Box. An unabashed patriot, his love for – and generosity to – his country is legendary, exemplified by his establishing The God Bless America Fund, which receives all income from his patriotic songs and distributes it to the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts.
Wikipedia tells us: Berlin arrived in the United States at the age of five. He published his first song, “Marie from Sunny Italy,” in 1907, [at the age of 19] receiving 33 cents for the publishing rights, and had his first major international hit, “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” in 1911. He also was an owner of the Music Box Theater on Broadway on Broadway. It is commonly believed that Berlin could not read sheet music and was such a limited piano player that he could only play in the key of F-sharp unless using his custom piano equipped with a transposing lever. [That’s the common knowledge amongst musicians.]
Berlin was born on May 11, 1888, in the Russian Empire. His exact birthplace is unknown. Although Berlin’s family came from the shtetel of Tolochin (in latter-day Belarus), he may have been born in Tyumen, Siberia. He was one of eight children of Moses (1848–1901) and Lena Lipkin Beilin (1850–1922). His father, a cantor in a synagogue, uprooted the family to America, as did many other Jewish families in the late 19th Century. On September 14, 1893, the family arrived in New York City. Upon their arrival at Ellis Island, the name ‘Beilin’ was changed to “Baline.” According to biographer Laurence Bergreen, as an adult Berlin admitted to no memories of his first five years in Russia except for one: “he was lying on a blanket by the side of a road, watching his house burn to the ground. By daylight the house was in ashes.” As an adult, Berlin said he was unaware of being raised in abject poverty since he knew no other life.
Tsar Alexander III of Russia and then Tsar Nicholas II, his son, had revived with utmost brutality the anti-Jewish pogroms, which created the spontaneous mass exodus to America. The pogroms were to continue until 1906, with thousands of other Jewish families also needing to escape, including those of George and Ira Gershwin, Al Jolson, Sophie Tucker, Louis B. Mayer (of MGM), and the Warner brothers. It has been suspected that the Beilin family also fled due to these pogroms, though there is no evidence to indicate that there were pogroms in Tolochin or Tyumen when the Beilins left for America.
After their arrival in New York City, the Baline family lived briefly in a basement flat on Monroe Street, and then moved to a three-room tenement at 330 Cherry Street. His father, unable to find comparable work as a cantor in New York, took a job at a kosher meat market and gave Hebrew lessons on the side, to support his family. He died a few years later when Irving was 13 years old.
Now, with only a few years of schooling, eight-year-old Irving began helping to support his family. He became a newspaper boy, hawking The Evening Journal. One day while delivering newspapers, according to Berlin’s biographer and friend, Alexander Woollcott, he stopped to look at a ship departing for China and became so entranced that he didn’t see a swinging crane, which knocked him into the river. When he was fished out after going down for the third time, he was still holding in his clenched fist the five pennies he earned that day.
Music historian Philip Furia writes that when “Izzy” began to sell newspapers in the Bowery, he was exposed to the music and sounds coming from saloons and restaurants that lined the crowded streets. Young Berlin sang some of the songs he heard while selling papers, and people would toss him some coins. He confessed to his mother one evening that his newest ambition in life was to become a singing waiter in a saloon.
However, before Berlin was fourteen his meager income was still adding less than his sisters’ to the family’s budget, which made him feel worthless. He then decided to leave home and join the city’s ragged army of other young immigrants. He lived in the Bowery, taking up residence in one of the lodging houses that sheltered the thousands of other homeless boys on the Lower East Side. Bergreen describes them as being uncharitable living quarters, “Dickensian in their meanness, filth, and insensitivity to ordinary human beings.”
Those were the days…
With few survival skills having left school around the age of thirteen, he realized that formal employment was out of the question. His only ability was acquired from his father’s vocation as a singer, and he joined with a few other youngsters who went to saloons on the Bowery and sang to customers. Itinerant young singers like them were common on the Lower East Side. Berlin would sing a few of the popular ballads he heard on the street, hoping people would pitch him a few pennies. From these seamy surroundings he became street-wise, with a real and lasting education. Music was his only source of income and he picked up the language and culture of the ghetto lifestyle.
Berlin learned what kind of songs appealed to audiences, writes Begreen: “well-known tunes expressing simple sentiments were the most reliable.” He soon began plugging songs at Tony Pastor’s Music Hall in Union Square [the same Tony Pastor’s that the cast of “Hello, Dolly!” sings about] and in 1906, when he was 18, got a job as a singing waiter at the Pelham Cafe in Chinatown. Besides serving drinks, he sang made-up “blue” parodies of hit songs to the delight of customers.
Biographer Charles Hamm writes that in Berlin’s free time after hours, he taught himself to play the piano. Never having had lessons, after the bar closed for the night, young Berlin would sit at a piano in the back and begin improvising tunes. His first attempt at actual songwriting was “Marie From Sunny Italy,” written in collaboration with the Pelham’s resident pianist, Mike Nicholson, from which he earned 37 cents in royalties. A spelling error on the sheet music to the published song included the spelling of his name as “I. Berlin.”
Berlin continued writing and playing music at Pelham Cafe and developing an early style. He liked the words to other people’s songs but sometimes the rhythms were “kind of boggy,” and he would change them. One night he delivered some hits composed by his friend, George M. Cohan, another kid who was getting known on Broadway with his own songs. When Berlin ended with Cohan’s “Yankee Doodle Boy,” notes Whitcomb, “everybody in the joint applauded the feisty little fellow.”
Nobel Prize-winning author Rudyard Kipling, living up the coast during that period, said he “was shocked and intrigued by the screeching squalor he found in the dirty gray tenement canyons of immigrant New York.”
He described it as worse than the slums of Bombay, but was nonetheless “impressed and moved by how the songs by the little immigrant boys…saluted the Stars and Stripes,” Kipling wrote. Kipling’s comments, today, have to be edited a bit, but he gave those little Jewish immigrant boys credit for guts and determination.
Some of the songs Berlin created came out of his own sadness. For instance, in 1912 he married Dorothy Goets, the sister of songwriter E. Ray Goeta. She died six months later of typhoid fever contracted during their honeymoon in Havana. The song he wrote to express his grief, “When I Lost You,” was his first ballad. It was an immediate popular hit and sold more than a million copies.
In 1917, Berlin was drafted into the Army, and the news of his induction became headline news, with one paper headline reading, “Army Takes Berlin!” But the Army wanted Berlin, now aged 30, to do what he knew best: write songs. While stationed with the 152nd Depot Brigade at Camp Upton, on Long Island, he then composed an all-soldier musical revue titled, “Yip Yap Yaphank” written to be patriotic tribute to the United States Army. By the following summer, the show was taken to Broadway where it also included a number of hits, including “Mandy” and “Oh! How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning,” which he performed himself.
The shows earned $150,000 for a camp service center. One song he wrote for the show but decided not to use, he would introduce 20 years later: “God Bless America.”
By 1918 he had written hundreds of songs, mostly topical, which enjoyed brief popularity. Many of the songs were for the new dances then appearing, such as the “Grizzly Bear,” “Chicken Walk,” and the “Fox Trot.” After a Hawaiian dance craze began, he wrote “That Hula-Hula,” and then did a string of southern songs, such as “When the Midnight Choo-Choo Leaves for Alabam’.” During this period, he was creating a few new songs every week, including songs aimed at the various immigrant cultures arriving from Europe. On one occasion, Berlin, whose face was still not known, was on a train trip and decided to entertain the fellow passengers with some music. They asked him how he knew so many hit songs, and Berlin modestly replied, “I wrote them.”
Berlin wrote “God Bless America” in 1918 but filed it away until 1938 when singer Kate Smith needed a patriotic song to mark the 20th anniversary of Armistice Day, celebrating the end of World War I. Its release near the end of the Great Depression, which had by then gone on for nine years enshrined a “strain of official patriotism intertwined with a religious faith that runs deep in the American psyche,” stated the New York Times.
Berlin’s daughter, Mary Ellin Barrett, states that the song was actually “very personal” for her father, and was intended as an expression of his deep gratitude to the nation for merely “allowing” him, an immigrant raised in poverty, to become a successful songwriter.
“To me,” said Berlin, “’God Bless America’ was not just a song but an expression of my feeling toward the country to which I owe what I have and what I am.”
Hear that, Caravan Invaders?
It quickly became a second National Anthem after America entered World War II a few years later. Over the decades it has earned millions for the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, to whom Berlin assigned all royalties. In 1954, Berlin received a special Congressional Gold Medal from President Dwight D. Eisenhower for contributing the song.
When the United States joined World War II after the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, Berlin immediately began composing a number of patriotic songs. His most notable and valuable contribution to the war effort was a stage show he wrote called “This is the Army.” It was taken to Broadway and then on to Washington, D.C. (where President Franklin D. Roosevelt attended). It was eventually shown at military bases throughout the world, including London, North Africa, Italy, Middle East, and Pacific countries, sometimes in close proximity to battle zones. Berlin wrote nearly three dozen songs for the show which contained a cast of 300 men. He supervised the production and traveled with it, always singing “Oh! How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning” himself. The show kept him away from his family for three and a half years, during which time he took neither salary nor expenses, and turned over all profits to the Army Emergency Relief Fund.
Finally, we come to one of the most famous Christmas songs of all time, “White Christmas.”
The 1942 film Holiday Inn introduced “White Christmas,” one of the most recorded songs in history. First sung in the film by Bing Crosby (along with Marjorie Reynolds, whose voice was dubbed by Martha Mears), it has sold over 50 million records and stayed no. 1 on the pop and R&B charts for 10 weeks. Crosby’s version is the best-selling single of all time. Music critic Stephen Holden credits this partly to the fact that “the song also evokes a primal nostalgia—a pure child-like longing for roots, home and childhood—that goes way beyond the greeting imagery.”
Richard Corliss also notes that the song was even more significant having been released soon after America entered World War II: [it] “connected with… GIs in their first winter away from home. To them it voiced the ache of separation and the wistfulness they felt for the girl back home, for the innocence of youth….” Poet Carl Sandburg wrote, “We have learned to be a little sad and a little lonesome without being sickly about it. This feeling is caught in the song of a thousand jukeboxes and tune whistled in streets and homes: ‘I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.’ When we sing that we don’t hate anybody. And there are things we love that we’re going to have sometimes if the breaks are not too bad against us. Way down under this latest hit of his, Irving Berlin catches us where we love peace.”
Ehh…we still went to war. Word War II wasn’t about hate; it was about not wanting the world to fall under a handful of dictators. Never did like Sandburg.
“White Christmas” won Berlin the Academy Award for Best Music in an Original Song, one of seven Oscar nominations he received during his career. In subsequent years, it was re-recorded and became a top-10 seller for numerous artists.
Berlin is the only Academy Award presenter and Academy Award winner to open the “envelope” and read his or her own name (for “White Christmas”). This result was so awkward for Berlin (since he had to present the Oscar to himself) that the Academy changed the rules of protocol the following year to prevent this situation from arising again.
Talking about “White Christmas,” composer–lyricist Garrison Hintz stated that although songwriting can be a complicated process, its final result should sound simplistic. Considering the fact that “White Christmas” has only eight sentences [54 words] in the entire song, lyrically Mr. Berlin achieved all that was necessary to eventually sell over 100 million copies and capture the hearts of the American public at the same time
Accounts vary as to when and where Berlin wrote the song. One story is that he wrote it in 1940, in warm La Quinta, Calif., while staying at the La Quinta Hotel, a frequent Hollywood retreat also favored by writer-director-producer Frank Capra, although the Arizona Biltmore also claims the song was written there. He often stayed up all night writing—he told his secretary, “Grab your pen and take down this song. I just wrote the best song I’ve ever written—heck, I just wrote the best song that anybody’s ever written!” However, since music historians say that he actually wrote it in 1938, he must have been somewhere else when he wrote it.
But the opening words to the song (songs used to have opening lines that explained the song itself) indicate he was in Beverly Hills, Calif.
The sun is shining, the grass is green,
The orange and palm trees sway.
There’s never been such a day
in Beverly Hills, L.A.
But it’s December the twenty-fourth,—
And I am longing to be up North—[23]
However, according to Jody Rosen, author of White Christmas: The Story of an American Song, the song may have been drafted in or near Los Angeles, but it was undoubtedly finished in New York or at the Berlin family’s weekend house in the Catskills. Like writers of all types, Berlin had a habit of writing something and putting it away if he wasn’t satisfied. He called these his “trunk songs.”
“The first time the song was introduced to his staff was on January 8, 1940. On that day, Berlin appeared in his business office to meet with Helmy Kresa, the fellow who scored his music. Berlin would sing the song and work carefully with Kresa, until the melody Kresa wrote sounded just as Berlin heard it in his head.
“When Berlin came in, he announced that he wrote the song “over the weekend.” The Berlin family was in New York through the holidays that year, so he must have written or at least polished it there.
“White Christmas was also originally written as a satire. As Berlin envisioned it, the song would be part of a musical revue. It would be performed tongue-in-cheek by sophisticates, drinks in hand, standing around a Hollywood pool surrounded by palm trees.
“That spring (1940), Berlin signed to do a musical for Paramount. The plot Berlin had in mind featured a vaudeville performer retiring to run a country inn. The gimmick was that it was a “holiday inn,” open for overnight guests only on holidays. Berlin would provide a holiday-themed score that would take viewers through the year of holidays.
“Casting for the film and early rehearsals for Holiday Inn began in the autumn of 1941. Irving Berlin knew his recently finished song, White Christmas, was a good one. The deal he made with Paramount was that White Christmas would be part of the film only if Paramount managed to sign Bing Crosby (1903-1977). Crosby was already a big star.
“In the midst of planning for Holiday Inn, Berlin, Crosby, and all Americans were rocked by national tragedy.
“On December 7, 1941, a surprise attack by the Japanese did unfathomable damage and caused great loss of life at the American port at Pearl Harbor. President Franklin Roosevelt summoned his military leaders to the White House and ordered a bombing raid on Japan. The country was at war.
“Just a few days after this—December 24, 1941—Bing Crosby introduced White Christmas, perhaps as a note of hope, on his highly successful radio broadcast, Kraft Music Hall.
“By late December of 1941, Americans were enlisting in the military in record numbers as America mobilized for war. They heard White Christmas not as a spoof but as a longing for days “just like the ones I used to know.” The lyrics took on a whole new meaning for soldiers on their way overseas.
And so that is how the song “White Christmas” came to be written – from a holiday trip, probably in the Catskill Mountains of New York, where it definitely snows, developed in Beverly Hills as a joke, introduced (with a hoodwink to the National Academy of Motion Pictures who would later have Berlin present himself an Oscar for writing it – although technically it was against the rules to award an Oscar to a song that had been previously recorded; apparently merely singing it on the radio didn’t count) just after the attack on Pearl Harbor and finally making it to the silver screen in 1942.
Now we know where Berlin saw those “treetops” glistening and heard “sleigh bells in the snow.” Because while it could have been in Imperial Russia, the Jewish Berlin family wouldn’t have been celebrating Christmas (although they might have heard sleigh bells; sleighs were the electric cars of their day – you wouldn’t hear them coming, otherwise), and he certainly didn’t see any glistening treetops in the Bowery or Los Angeles.
We’re a long way from that Christmas card scene, with our giant SUVs, 50-inch televisions, and ubiquitous Smartphones.
Still, it’s nice to think of a snowy Christmas world where the only vehicles are horse-drawn sleighs and cozy firesides, where the children hang their stockings, snap and crackle and pop in peace.