Word from the local radio station that today in 1966 was the last airing of Rawhide sent me on a goose chase that reveals (to me anyway) how remarkable and idiotic Hollywood can be.
First, I have never understood the appeal of Westerns. Sure, I watched Gunsmoke and I guess I got caught up in the recurring plot twist of whether Sheriff Dillon would rescue Kitty (a woman whom I always thought a little loose). But I couldn’t imagine life on the frontier (and public school history courses gave me no reference). How could any baby boomer living in the suburbs relate to one-sheriff towns with one saloon and perhaps a brothel, populated by ranchers? The only ranchers I knew were the ones designed by William Levitt.
Second, what’s up with Rawhide’s theme song’s lyrics:
Rollin’ Rollin’ Rollin’
Keep movin’, movin’, movin’,
Though they’re disapprovin’,
Keep them doggies movin’ Rawhide!
Don’t try to understand ’em,
Just rope and throw and grab ’em,
Soon we’ll be living high and wide.
Boy my heart’s calculatin’
My true love will be waitin’, be waiting at the end of my ride.Move ’em on, head ’em up,
Head ’em up, move ’em out,
Move ’em on, head ’em out Rawhide!
Set ’em out, ride ’em in
Ride ’em in, let ’em out,
Cut ’em out, ride ’em in Rawhide.Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Rawhide!Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Though the streams are swollen
Keep them dogies rollin’
Rawhide!
Rain and wind and weather
Hell-bent for leather
Wishin’ my gal was by my side.
All the things I’m missin’,
Good vittles, love, and kissin’,
Are waiting at the end of my rideCHORUS
Move ’em on, head ’em up
Head ’em up, move ’em on
Move ’em on, head ’em up
Rawhide
Count ’em out, ride ’em in,
Ride ’em in, count ’em out,
Count ’em out, ride ’em in
Rawhide!Keep movin’, movin’, movin’
Though they’re disapprovin’
Keep them dogies movin’
Rawhide!
Don’t try to understand ’em
Just rope, throw, and brand ’em
Soon we’ll be living high and wide.
My hearts calculatin’
My true love will be waitin’,
Be waitin’ at the end of my ride.Rawhide!
Rawhide!
Finally, as odd as Westerns are and as little as Rawhide’s lyrics have to say, the singer who sang for the series, Frankie Laine, made the song one that you not only can’t get out of your head (in a good way) but also tempted you to emulate the song’s object and herd your cat. Here’s a little background on Mr. Laine (that may engage our Roman Catholic readers):
Singer, composer and author Frankie Laine was born March 30, 1913 in Chicago. His real name was Francesco Paulo LoVecchio and he lived in Chicago’s Little Italy. Frankie was the oldest of eight children born to Sicilian immigrants John and Anna Lo Vecchio, who had come from Monreale, Sicily near Palermo. His father first worked as a water-boy for the Chicago Railroad and he was eventually promoted to laying rails. His father subsequently went to a Trade School and became a barber. One of his most famous clients was gangster Al Capone. Frankie made his first appearance in a choir at the Immaculate Conception Church where he was an altar boy. At 15, he performed at the Merry Garden Ballroom in Chicago while attending Lane Technical School. He supported himself by working as a car salesman, bouncer in a beer parlor and as a machinist. He also sang at a weekly radio station (wins) for $5.00 per week. The program director for wins convinced him to change his name to Frankie Laine after he auditioned for the radio. His name was stretched out to Frankie because opera singer Frances Lane (Dorothy Kirsten) and Fanny Rose (Dinah Shore) were singing at nearby radio station WNEW. At 18, he went to Baltimore and participated in a marathon dance contest after coming off the heels of winning ones in Stamford, CT. and Chicago. Laine set an all-time marathon dance record of 3501 hours in 145 consecutive days in 1932 at Wilson’s Pier in Atlantic City, New Jersey and his competition was an Olympic miler named Joey Ray and included 101 other contestants. Altogether, he participated in 14 marathons, winning three, second once and fifth twice. His last contest was back in Chicago at the Arcadia where a 14-year-old girl was disqualified because the judges found out her age. She later became successful singer, Anita O’Day.
Laine’s nicknames were Mr. Rhythm, America’s Number One Song Stylist, Old Man Jazz, and Old Leather Lungs. Those are not names that come to mind with the song, Rawhide. Maybe Gene Autry?
As tempting as it is to kvetch about Hollywood’s artificiality and its materialist cultural appropriations, the buck actually stops with (all about) us, the people glued to our television sets as 8-year olds, the grad school student watching a romantic comedy for a distraction from dissertation writing, or the middle-aged small town dweller who continues to be fascinated by the comings and goings of Daniel Day Lewis. Whether the big screen at the local movie house or the small one at home, that shining screen beckons as enticingly as Jay Gatsby’s green light.
Old Life 