Placer County, where the weather was a joker...

I think I've told you about this song before.

It is a haunting piece of music, full of depth, rife with emotion. And it's even more poignant because of its tragic tale.

The singer, by the way, is Johnny Mathis. The composer is Michael Moore (no, not that one!). And this song is called "Yellow Roses on her Gown." I had never heard of it until 11-12 years ago.

Briefly, it tells what I have later learned is a true story. A son describes his parents' marriage...how happy it was in the beginning when the family lived in San Francisco, and how strained it became later.

"I remember how they looked then, when their eyes were always living, and my father loved a girl with yellow roses on her gown."

And then they moved to Placer (pronounced with a short "a") County, "where the weather was a joker, and I watched my parents' laughter turn from amber into ice." He says the father would "bear and bear the insults of a pair of loaded dice." And the mother stood beside him, "though her heart was on the hillside of a city where a soldier and his lover bedded down..."

By the end of the song, the father is living eastward, near the Sacramento River, "and he swears to me he's happy with his practice and some land." And, in the springtime and the summer, when the fog is off the valley -- the narrator visits his dad on weekends, "but his grass is overgrown."

And the last part tells us the mother is dead..."sometimes after dinner, I will gaze away the evening, in the attic at a sash of yellow roses on her gown..."

I was struck by the song for several reasons. One, it is interesting stylistically in that it has no chorus or bridge. The closest is the repeating phrase "yellow roses on her gown."

Two, this song is filled with such emotion, such obvious pain, that I knew it had to be a true story.

And, sure enough, it turns out that the songwriter's father was a lawyer who represented those accused of being Communists during the McCarthy Era. The strain of it -- and the danger to his own reputation -- caused his marriage (and his life) to fall apart.

My friend Chuck Kincade (who lives in San Diego) said in response to an inquiry that Placer County is located in the Sierra Nevada, a desolate area that is perfect for those wishing to be alone. Hence, a perfect place for the father, when his grass is overgrown.

Such detail, such descriptive lyric (the words about the family's early life are quiet poetic), such overt passion, is rare in most popular music, at least to this degree. It's a heck of a song, one that deserves a better fate than to have become a forgotten album cut. You can hear it on YouTube if you get curious.

I respond to music. Fast and slow, happy and sad, it tends to stay with me. Isn't that what we really want all good songs to do?

Cause, as silly as it may sound, late at night I've often thought about the father who swears he's happy, though his grass is overgrown; and the mother who's heart was on a hillside; and the son up in the attic, in the evenings, gazing at a sash, with yellow roses on her gown.

Behind the music

The internet is a funny animal. Really breathes new life into the old cliche that it’s a small world after all.

(Yikes, just got a Disney World flashback...sorry about that...don’t want that song bouncing around in my head for days.)

After posting last Thursday about the Johnny Mathis song, "Yellow Roses on her Gown," I received a message from someone in Australia that is a friend of the woman who posted the Mathis clip on YouTube.

He says that the songwriter, Michael Moore (no, not that one!) wrote the song about his father, a lawyer that represented people who were victims of the McCarthy-era Communist witch hunts.

"As a result," he writes, "he was driven out of the profession by the right wing interests and took to farming and some limited legal work to make ends meet."

Wow, was all I could say. If this is indeed true, the revelation brings a deeper and even more tragic aspect to an already haunting piece of music.

I so hope that Mr. Moore, if he’s still alive, will surface one day and let us know more about his beautiful song.

Special thanks to Denis in Melbourne for this most interesting news.

Speaking of a small world, I was quite tickled to see that the guest on "What’s My Line," the classic game show I sometimes watch on GSN, from the Sunday, Nov. 9, 1952 episode, was one Ruth Marie Diamond from Knoxville, Tenn. The re-run aired last Saturday morning.

Turned out Ruth Marie Diamond’s line was that she was a United States Marine. What a hoot! I’d love to catch up with Ms. Diamond if she’s still hanging around East Tennessee. My guess is she would be in her 70s now.

Obscure song makes a 'comeback'

I tell you, the internet is a wonderful thing.

At least a couple of times the last few years, I’ve shared with you some thoughts on a rare Johnny Mathis tune from 1976 that nobody seems to know called "Yellow Roses on her Gown." If I love a song more than RobinElla’s "Teardrops," it’s this heartbreaking tale of a marriage gone bad.

I mentioned last year about receiving some random e-mails about the song following my initial post about it in late 2006. One was from a disc jockey in Toronto who played the song on his monthly radio show and mentioned our conversation; another was from a Mathis fan in California who had heard a cover by a local artist in San Diego.

I mention this because very few people -- even longtime John Mathis fans -- have ever even heard the song. It never seemed to make it for reasons that defy the imagination. Because it truly is one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard.

So imagine my delight when a random Google search uncovered a complete clip (on YouTube) of Mathis singing the song on what looks like a TV appearance in ’76. As it is with the great ones, his live recording soars so far above the studio version; the look on his face during the performance puts the final touches on this brilliantly nuanced piece of work.

Surf on over to YouTube.com and type "Yellow Roses On Her Gown" into the search feature. Not only do I want you to hear this masterpiece, I’d also love to hear your take on what you think the song is about. The lyrics are a bit ambiguous and the song is interesting stylistically, in that there is no chorus or bridge, just four verses.

One thing I can say for certain: this song, and Mathis’ performance, is pure poetry.

"Yellow Roses on her Gown" was originally released on the 1976 Johnny Mathis album, "Mahogany," which is now out of print. It is available on the 4-disc Mathis box set, "A Personal Collection."

'The Last Time I Felt Like This'

I used to think that no singer would haunt my dreams like Karen Carpenter.

Then came Alison Krauss. Then "Teardrops" and RobinElla. Then -- well, you get the idea.

But there is a special place reserved in the part of my heart forever in love with good music for Jane Olivor. Here, let me slide down a seat. You sit right there, get comfortable and I'll tell you the story.

Some time ago (15 years, I guess), while going through a stage wanting to be Alan Alda (don't ask), I watched a movie called "Same Time, Next Year." Starring Alda and Ellen Burstyn, the film follows a 25-year affair between two people who meet at the same quaint little cottage on the shores of the Pacific in California once a year. I'll tell you more about the movie sometime, but what's important here is the film's theme song, "The Last Time I Felt Like This," performed by the venerable Johnny Mathis and Olivor, she with the ethereal, haunting vocals.

The song is sentimental, but also beautiful, full of the naive bliss of love that sadly seems as antiquated today as leisure suits and 8-track tapes. Mathis and Olivor work magic as the harmony blends together. Somebody once compared it to two birds mating; as silly as that sounds, it's an apt description.

Olivor seemed on the brink of superstardom when she recorded that duet with Mathis nearly 30 years ago. She had a sweet recording contract with Columbia and was being compared favorably with Streisand and others.

But she swallowed a big dose of stage fright and couldn't adjust to the attention that came with an Oscar-nominated song and a concert tour with Mathis. Her husband's illness provided the perfect excuse. Jane Olivor disappeared.

They tell me she is singing again; Columbia has also remastered some of her late 70s/early 80s material. There are some gems buried here and there, including "The Best Side of Goodbye," a stunning reading of Rodgers and Hammerstein's "Some Enchanted Evening," a live performance of a beautiful song called "Seasons" and mighty fine covers of Don McLean's "Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)" and Neil Sedaka's underrated "Solitaire."

But it's that sweet three minute masterpiece with Johnny Mathis that has become the moment in Jane Olivor's career. I hear those opening piano notes and lose my heart awhile as it soars into the sky. I close my eyes and pretend that Olivor is singing just for me while I remember a face I haven't seen in many moons.

It's deja vu; I've been here before. When was it? Oh, yes. I remember now.

The last time I felt like this, I was falling in love...

One charming 'Waitress'; more 'Yellow Roses'

A CHARACTER SPOUTS A LINE in a little-known 1974 film called "Lovin' Molly" that I like very much.

"A woman's love is like the morning dew," Mr. Fry says. "It's as apt to land on a cow turd as a rose."

That line flashed through my mind while watching "Waitress," the late Adrienne Shelly's quirky, charming new film. Because that's the only way one can explain why the otherwise smart Jenna (Keri Russell), the waitress of the title, would marry a guy like Earl (Jeremy Sisto).

Jenna is a server at a small-town diner. (Think "Alice.") She makes pies. Darn good pies. To escape reality, she imagines baking new pies. All sorts of pies.

Her life is all but hopeless. She adores her two co-workers (played to the hilt by writer/director Shelly and Cheryl Hines). She loves making pies.

But all that's for naught because of Earl.

Earl doesn't let Jenna drive a car. He "don't want her to go nowhere," you see.
He has this obnoxious habit of honking his horn repeatedly whenever he picks Jenna up. In fact, nearly everything Earl does is obnoxious.

Jenna wants money to enter a pie making contest. Earl says no. She stashes funds anyway, waiting for the moment to leave this nightmare.

Oh, but something happens. Earl gets Jenna drunk one night. Oops. She gets pregnant too.
She doesn't tell him; she still plans to leave. To be quite honest, Jenna doesn't even want the baby. But whaddya do?

You go see your OB/GYN, that's what. But she's semi-retired. In her stead is a newcomer, neurotic Dr. Pomatter (Nathan Fillion).

His nervous Yankee demeanor creeps Jenna out. Then she jumps in his arms and plants a big wet one on his lips.

And therein lies the rub of this charming little flick. In the caring eyes of Dr. Pomatter, Jenna glimpses a better life. He listens to her. He holds her -- "nothing more, nothing less," she later writes her unborn child -- for 20 minutes. He makes her smile for what must be the first time in years. It's the beginning of one unique affair.

If all this seems like a slinging hash version of "Bridges of Madison County," you're dead wrong. This movie is about finding one's self. It's about dreaming big dreams. It's also a bit wacky, in a delicious, Dixie-fied, Flannery O'Connor kind of way.

Russell, best known as the star of the short-lived coming of age TV drama "Felicity," comes into her own with this role. Her Jenna becomes a complete woman when the final credits roll. This should be Russell's career-making role.

Shelly and Hines light up the screen as Jenna's fellow hash, er, pie slingers. (I swear I kept waiting for Hines to yell "kiss my grits!")

And what to say about Andy Griffith? Playing the diner's crusty-but-soft elderly owner Old Joe, Griffith turns in his best motion picture performance since 1957's "A Face in the Crowd."

At its core, "Waitress" delivers an important message. I won't reveal what it is for fear of giving away Jenna's ultimate choice, but I'm certain it's the correct choice. You'll think so too.

Despite its charming, happy feel, "Waitress" is overshadowed by melancholy. Not for anything on-screen, but because Shelly, who wrote, directed and co-starred in this film, was murdered late last year. Knowing she isn't around to bask in the afterglow of well-deserved applause for this masterpiece is a true bummer.

But that's the only depressing thing about this flick. After the lights come up, "Waitress" is as delicious and as filling as, well, a freshly-baked slice of pie.

"Waitress" is now playing at Regal Downtown West and at select theaters everywhere. It is rated PG-13 for adult language and situations.



Late last year, I wrote about an obscure 1976 Johnny Mathis song called "Yellow Roses on her Gown."

Yesterday, I received an e-mail about the song from Pat Murphy. Pat lives in Toronto. He hosts an excellent radio show, "The Long Note," the last Sunday of each month on CKLN-FM 88.1 in that city.

The program normally features songs performed in the Celtic tradition. But tonight Pat stepped away from that format to present a playlist entitled "Obscurities," songs you've rarely -- if ever -- heard.

Highlights included a little-known 1973 Glen Campbell recording of "Sold American," Elvis's heartbreaking, brilliant 1974 tear-jerker "Loving Arms" and Daniel O'Donnell and Mary Duff's beautiful cover of Porter Waggoner and Dolly Parton's country classic "Making Plans."

Near the end of the show, Pat played Mathis's tale of a disintegrating marriage. He was also kind enough to mention our e-mail conversation about the song.

Check out this eclectic station on the Web at http://www.ckln.fm/ "The Long Note" airs Sunday nights at 8 p.m. (Eastern).

Thanks for sharing this wonderful piece of music with your listeners, Pat. It remains the most hauntingly beautiful lyric and arrangement I've ever heard.

"Yellow Roses On Her Gown" can be found on the 4 CD Johnny Mathis box set "A Personal Collection" and on the out-of-print 1976 Mathis album "Mahogany."