Sep 9, 2024 4 min read

There’s a meme going around Facebook that you might have seen. Over a picture of bandleader Lawrence Welk and some members of his orchestra appear these words: “DON’T TELL ME ABOUT YOUR CHILDHOOD PROBLEMS. I WAS FORCED TO WATCH THE LAWRENCE WELK SHOW AS A KID.”

Now, I’m sure there are plenty of people who find this hilarious; I’m not one of them. My parents didn’t force me to watch Welk: I watched it because those cats could play, man!

But as a pre-teen, I was considered somewhat square — geekish, nerdy, lame. While my friends were twisting to Chubby Checker, I was buying records that most of my peers would have been embarrassed to own.

I was reminded of this fact last week when actor/singer James Darren passed away. Probably best known as Moondoggie in the movie “Gidget,” Darren followed the path of most teen matinee idols of the early Sixties and released pop music 45s. I owned both of Darren’s major hits — “Goodbye Cruel World” (1961) and “Her Royal Majesty” (1962). I had a great time trading lyrics from the former tune with a friend on Facebook.

“Goodbye cruel world, I’m off to join the circus/Gonna be a brokenhearted clown … Shoot me out of a cannon, I don’t care/Let the people point at me and stare/I’ll tell the world that woman, wherever she may be/That mean, fickle woman made a cryin’ clown out of me.”

These lines came trippingly on the tongue — almost too easily. My friend accused me of listening to the record while we exchanged messages.

“Nah,” I told him, “I just have a great memory for inconsequential things. Who are you again?” He countered that we had played in a band together in the early Seventies.

“It’s nice that I can remember that,” he said, “but I don’t have any idea what I had for dinner three days ago.” Three days ago? Yeah… that was … um … ah …

Give me a hint.

My point here is that I have very eclectic taste in music. Most kids pick up basic musical tastes from what is being played in their homes, and so did I. But my brother was a jazz snob who hated rock music. My sister’s musical sphere began and ended with Patti Page. My parents had no record player and never listened to the radio except to catch Pirates baseball.

So where did I find the songs that now populate my iPod? On TV variety shows. “Your Hit Parade,” “The Milton Berle Show,” “The Perry Como Show,” “The Ed Sullivan Show.” And, yes, “The Lawrence Welk Show.” For me, variety shows were the spice of life. I lament the dearth of their like on contemporary TV. Don’t tell me about “The Voice” or “American Idol”: I can’t stand ’em.

But I’ll still watch Welk if I can find the show in reruns. In fact, the first 45 record I bought with my own money was “Calcutta,” a No. 1 hit for Welk in 1961. I still find it kinda catchy!

If I’d been on “American Bandstand” and Dick Clark had asked me to “Rate the Record,” I’d have given “Calcutta” a 9 out of 10 because you can dance to it and I like the lyrics. Which are — you might want to grab a pencil:

“La la la la la la la/La la la la la la/La la la la la la la /La la la/La la!”

Easy to remember, like what I had for dinner three days ago. Which was … um … ah …

Give me a hint.