Bring Back The Memories

“It was raining the first time I saw my tower…,” so says Elliott Lewis in the beginning monologue of Gordon Jenkins’ classic album, Manhattan Tower. Chances are you haven’t heard it since it was originally recorded nearly 60 years ago. Nevertheless, to me it’s a classic.

Every once in awhile, something comes along – a sight, a sound, a smell, a song – that turns back the pages of memory for me. And when it happens, I sometimes luxuriate in the long-forgotten images that surface in my mind. A week or so ago, knowing I had been looking for the Manhattan Tower album for lo these many years, my son Jamie called and said he found a copy – an LP -- on E-Bay and bought it for little to nothing. Frankly, you can’t imagine my excitement. He said he’d burn a CD and send it on to me; which he did, along with three Swinging Year albums purchased at the same time. Hey, did you ever have Christmas in February? I did.

As far as I’m concerned, Gordon Jenkins was a musical genius. He originally wrote and recorded this album back in 1945, when life was so very different. He expanded the album to three-times it’s original length and re-recorded it thirteen years later in 1958. Even though I remembered the earlier version, I think the later one is best. Jenkins says on the back of the album, “Manhattan Tower is really a love song, a sincere expression of worship, affection and appreciation for one of the greatest cities in the world – New York.” This love song to a city started back in 1929 when Jenkins, as a struggling, unemployed musician, visited New York City. The write up on the album cover says he was excited by the skyscrapers and the people and the mood of the place, its richness and the 24-hours-a-day life.” Sixteen years later, he returned to New York as a successful composer, arranger and orchestra leader. Instead of looking up at the mysterious steel and concrete towers that once seemed so inaccessible, this time he lived in such a tower, viewing from above the great and beautiful Manhattan that had long fired his dreams. The album is a result of the love affair between one man and a city.

When I was discharged from the Navy in 1946, my younger brother, Jack, was in high school and working part time in a record store in Glendale, California. The kid never drew a paycheck; he took home albums instead. It was then, hearing it for the first, time that I fell in love with Manhattan Tower. I don’t know what happened to Jack’s copy. He’s gone now and so are his albums. Years later, after Betty and I were married and raising our three boys, I kept an eye out for Manhattan Tower. It was by then out of print and lost to me. Lost that is until son Jamie found it on E-Bay.

As I said, things come along from time to time that bring forgotten images to my mind. There was a girl in high school I dated once or twice. I can’t even think of her name, but she always wore Gardenia perfume, and every time I get a whiff of gardenias her face is before me. Early John Wayne movies recall for me the Saturday mornings as a kids I spent in the front row of the local picture show, squinting up at those giant black and white cowboys in their black and white hats. I always left the theater with a headache, but for the rest of the afternoon, I was always the good guy with the white hat.

Gordon Jenkins died May 1, 1984, in Los Angeles. In my opinion, he was a musical genius. He produced a long list of popular songs and arranged and conducted many albums with popular performers; among them, Nat King Cole and Frank Sinatra, whose album September of My Years, arranged and conducted by Gordon Jenkins, became a classic. The relative innocence of Manhattan Tower would probably be considered a bit too saccharine sweet for today’s sophisticated music lovers. Still, for older ladies and gents like me, it wears well.

And now, listening to Manhattan Tower again for the first time, I’m a skinny 20-year old kid again, with lots of curly blonde hair, driving a blue 1940 Ford coupe around town, making a buck thirty-five an hour, and spending many Saturdays on the beach, completely unaware of the years and the experiences that lay ahead of me. This morning, I woke up to Elliott Lewis reminiscing about how it was raining the first time he saw his tower. And it occurred to me, I don’t remember what the weather was like the first time I heard him talk about Gordon Jenkins’ tower, back in 1946. But this time, for me anyway, it isn’t raining, Instead, here in Western North Carolina it’s been snowing for two days. About 9-inches they’re saying.