| ||
My
fascination with Wayne Newton began in early 1980. I was sitting in my grandmother’s living room in Mt. Savage,
Maryland, watching The Merv Griffin Show with my dad. This is when he had a nighttime show (Merv
Griffin, that is, not Dad). Merv
introduced “my friend, who’s going to sing his new hit single, ‘Years,’ Wayne
Newton.” Dad said something like,
“Well, it’s been years since Wayne Newton HAD a hit single!” He may have also said something about Wayne
singing like a girl. That’s
all I remember about that odd father-son bonding-through-Wayne Newton jokes
night 20 years ago, but a seed was planted that would eventually grow to
full-blown fascination. (Incidentally,
“Years” did scrape its way up to Number 35 on the pop charts.) Wayne
Newton popped into my life again a few years later, when then-Secretary of the
Interior James Watt axed a July 4th Beach Boys concert on Washington
D.C.’s Mall since he thought the Boys would attract the “wrong element.” Watt’s idea of a replacement? Mr. Wayne Newton himself. Ironically, the Beach Boys (or at least that
creepy Mike Love) had been longtime supporters of Watt’s boss, President Ronald
Reagan. Anyway, since Watt’s move
seemed so anti-rock’n’roll, I was angry about it, but now it’s obvious to me
that Wayne Newton is just as cool as the Beach Boys. And sometimes cooler. I
mean, of course Pet Sounds clobbers practically everything Wayne
Newton’s ever recorded, but “Kokomo” vs. “Danke Schöen?” You make the call. It
was during college, a time of new experiences, when the complete world of Wayne
Newton began to unfold for me. The
thing is, I don’t really remember how or why this happened. I just know that I began to pick up Wayne
Newton albums at flea markets and from the dollar boxes at the Book Trader, a
legendary used book and record store on South Street in Philadelphia. I was encouraged in these pursuits by my
friend Greg who gave me a copy of the only Wayne LP that was still in print at
the time, The Best of Wayne Newton. Of
course, when I would listen to albums like Wayne Newton Sings Hit Songs
or the classic Best of…, I’d laugh to myself and to anyone else who
would listen. After all who could take
Wayne’s hyperkinetic versions of tunes like “Wives and Lovers,” “Shangri-La,”
and “Call Me Irresponsible” seriously? But
then a weird thing happened. While I
still thought Wayne was just good, campy fun, I also started to actually like
the man and his music. It might have
been because of his appearance in that awful Andrew “Dice” Clay movie and its
accompanying Billy Idol video; or because of the way he handled himself in
various interviews I watched faithfully on shows like Donahue and Lifestyles
of the Rich and Famous; or maybe it was because, not only does Ferris
Bueller lip-sync to “Danke Schöen” on his famous Day Off, but also that
various other characters in the movie can be heard humming the very same tune
prior to the parade scene. Ultimately
though, it is simply THE SONG itself that put me most truly on The Path of
Wayne. It just hit me like the
proverbial ton o’ bricks one day that the songwriting, arrangement, production
and performance of “Danke Schöen” all kick serious ass and take names. Listen to it sometime. Listen without prejudice. You’ll see what I mean. It’s got strings, it’s got horns, it starts
out slow and quiet, and then builds up to an amazing crescendo, before ending
the way it began. And don’t forget
those lyrics, which tell an intriguing story, both through traditional
narrative and through what’s left to the listener’s imagination: “You tore your
dress/What a mess!/I confess/That’s not all.”
“Danke Schöen” is, without a doubt, one of my top 20 favorite songs of
all time. After
my “Danke Schöen” revelation, my pursuit of Wayne Newton albums hit high gear,
and not just in the Philadelphia area.
While at least eight of the 20-some Wayne albums I own came from the
Book Trader boxes, I’ve also picked up vintage Wayne in Norfolk, Virginia; New
Orleans, Louisiana (the seminal Wayne Newton in Person!, which I bought
for nine bucks (!?) in the French Quarter.
I basically did two things during my first visit to the Big Easy in
1988: get hellaciously drunk on hurricanes at Pat O’Brien’s and bought Wayne
Newton in Person! And not in that
order, either.); Kansas City, Missouri (the autobiographical concept LP, How
I Got This Way); and San Antonio, Texas (The Long and Winding Road,
a good example of Wayne’s attempts to record a hip, more “mature” album while
in his mid-twenties). Back
here in Philadelphia, I picked up the star-shaped, picture disk single, “You
Stepped Into My Life” (a Bee Gees-penned disco tune), at Third Street Jazz and
the Summer Wind LP at the Wooden Shoe, an anarchist bookstore in Center
City. Take it from me: if you want to
experience worlds colliding, buy a Wayne Newton album for a buck on your lunch
hour in an anarchist bookstore. You’ll
be glad you did. I
think the apex of my love of Wayne had to be the night Donna and I, then just
on our third date, went with Greg and his wife Kim to see Mr. Newton live
onstage at Donald Trump’s fabulous Taj Mahal in Atlantic City in 1991. Wayne gave us all a show that was just the
epitome of Newton-osity, singing “Danke
Schöen,” complete with its original sassy, brassy arrangement, as well as the
classic “Bessie the Heifer, The Queen of All the Cows,” that he sang on a Lucy
Show once. In addition, Wayne told
lots of jokes involving the names of certain small towns in Pennsylvania’s
Amish country (I’ll give you a hint—the towns are named Blue Balls,
Intercourse, and Paradise—now you can figure out the jokes). Man, oh man, what a night and to top it off
I won 136 semolians at the roulette table. Interestingly,
I married into a family with a Wayne Newton story of its own. It seems that, when he was a boy, Donna’s
brother Michael scrimped and saved to buy his grandmother a holiday present,
Wayne Newton’s Songs for a Merry Christmas album. On Christmas Day, Gramm opened the gift and,
apparently hoping for a nice sweater, said, “Oh, I’ll look great wearing
this!” But the album became a family
favorite and has been played every holiday season since. On hearing this story, I knew Donna and I
were meant to be. For
the most part, my admiration for Wayne Newton is harmless, although to
celebrate his birthday in 1989, I did make a now-lost tape, mixing my personal
best of Wayne tunes with comments from various interviews I’d videotaped. The tape culminated in a 15-minute-long
montage I called “Revolution # Wayne.”
Like John Lennon’s notorious musique concréte experiment from which its
title is paraphrased, “Revolution # Wayne” featured bits of music and dialogue
looped over and over, the highlight of which was Wayne incessantly repeating
the mantra, “They’re having parades and burning effigies of Wayne Newton.” OK, so maybe I didn’t have much to do in
1989, but I swear to you, I’m better now.
The only sicker thing I’ve ever committed to audio tape is the 90-minute
compilation of Telly Savalas songs I recorded a week or so after the Man Who
Was Kojak shuffled off this mortal coil. These
days, it’s getting harder and harder to find Wayne albums I don’t have
(although Newton said on Donahue that he had released over 80 LPs) and,
honestly, I don’t always look as hard as I used to. It is still my policy, though, that if I see a Wayne album I
don’t have and it costs a buck or less, I buy it (the album I bought in New
Orleans was the outrageous exception to this price rule). I saw the soundtrack to a Wayne television
special for four bucks at a flea market once, but held out until I found
somewhere else for just a dollar. Why Wayne, you ask? I’ve asked that myself. After all, it could have been Jack Jones, Engelbert, Bob Goulet…they’re all OK and I’m also a big Tom Jones fan, but Wayne is the Lounge Singer I Love Best. I love Wayne Newton and if I ever get a chance to meet him, I’ll say, “Hiya Wayne! Danke Schöen for all the great music.”
|
(Please feel free to email to others who may be interested or to print a hard copy for them but remember: The Dichotomy of the Dog is copyright2000 by Rich Wilhelm. If you plan on making a bazillion dollars from this piece of writing, please let me know so I can sue you or something.)