The story page of the New Orleans Semi-Weekly Times-Democrat of Januincluded a tale by S. The Washburn Review of Topeka, Kansas of Novemcalled the song a “pest.” Wherever one goes this tune is heard, and it is becoming a positive bore here. There was no escape, and the visitor decided that he would endeavor no more to fight shy of it. Again was he foiled, for a young girl at the piano in the parlor thumped the familiar air for all she was worth.
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Once more he made a break, this time going to the seclusion of his room, and, closing the windows he felt that he was safe. On the porch there was a strolling band of musicians and they, too, were playing the piece. Hurrying back to the bath house he changed his clothes and went to his hotel. Perched upon the cabin was a gentleman of color playing a banjo and the tune was the old familiar one. But, alas! He reckoned wrong, for when, he had swam out a fair distance a pleasure yacht hove in sight. Then he went to a bath house, and, donning a bathing suit, plunged into the surf in a vain effort to find relief. Hardly had he become comfortably seated ere the dulcet strains came floating toward him from one of the merry-go-round organs. He stood it for quite a while and then made a dash for a pavilion. But finally it dawned upon him that every time a person came through the gates the band director displayed a sort of sympathetic feeling for the newcomer, apparently thinking that he had never heard the piece, and the band would repeat it. Suddenly the band struck up "Hello, My Baby." For a while he did not mind it. He took a seat early in the morning on one of the piers and prepared to enjoy himself reading the papers. Yesterday a visitor was driven almost frantic in his endeavor to find a place where the strains of the song would not reach his ears. There is no escape apparently, and the more one tries to get a moment's relief the worse are the chances. No matter where you go you will hear this mongrel ballad. That is the awful hold that "Hello, My Baby" has taken here. There are other affairs that will soon claim the attention of the authorities, however, unless some charitably inclined person comes along and devises a remedy very soon. The Philadelphia Inquirer’s Atlantic City correspondent, in the Augedition, complained about the erection of new piers, then went on to another topic: The song was certainly ubiquitous in the Gaslight Era. I’ll bet many people here, 123 years later, have heard it and may even know some of the lyrics.Ĭan you imagine today, much like they once did about the Beatles, people going ballistic about a song that was re-born in 1955 thanks to Chuck Jones, Mike Maltese and a cartoon frog? To us today, the idea of getting worked up into frenzied anger about Rudy Vallee is ridiculous.īut let’s go back even further. He’s considered pretty old fashioned these days, when he’s considered at all. No one in this day and age thinks the Old Groaner is subverting morals. Bing Crosby and crooners in general came in for ridicule in several cartoons in the 1930s. Disliking the younger generation’s music has been going on for decades.
Note: When you embed the widget in your site, it will match your site's styles (CSS).The Jones column should not be a shock or surprise. Album Lyrics1.(Nobody Does It Like) The Ukelele Man2.Bras on 453.Hello My Baby4.The Majorca SongIvor Biggun Lyrics provided by
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