61) Jimmy Dean – “Big Bad John”

It’s no surprise that, being a copywriter, I’ve been fascinated with TV commercials since childhood.  And as a lifelong music enthusiast (thanks, Dad), my absolute favorite ads were those ones for compilation albums put out by labels like Time Life Music, K-tel and Razor & Tie.  You know the kind – clips of retro artists performing a few lines from their most licensable songs, song titles scrolling down the screen, bookended by the booming announcer’s voice (almost always the same guy, no matter the label) commanding you to order it NOW: this compilation is NOT AVAILABLE IN STORES! The only thing better than the two-minute version of these ads that ran during local network programming were the half hour-long late-night infomercials hosted by a pseudocelebrity tangentially related to the subject of the compilation (e.g., “MTV’s Martha Quinn!”).  I devoured these ads, and can still sing huge chunks of the patchworked songs constructed from the bits and pieces of advertised hits.

So given my ardor for these ads, it was inevitable that I’d stumble across a wormhole in the advertising universe.  While watching one for “Legends of Country” or some such (opening track of the ad: “El Paso,” naturally), I noticed a familiar name in the caption under one of the grainy black-and-white.  “That’s not … the Jimmy Dean?” I asked in disbelief.  “Of course it is!” my mom replied.  The folksy spokesman familiar from the ads for his namesake packaged meats company was also, apparently, a legend of country.

Of course, those of us not alive when Jimmy Dean had his string of pop-country hits in the early ’60s can be forgiven for thinking of him merely as a sausage magnate.  Search YouTube for “Big Bad John,” and at least as many uploaders credit the song to Johnny Cash as to Jimmy Dean.  (Wikipedia says that Cash did cover the song at some point, but all the videos I found crediting Cash on YouTube use Dean’s original version.)  “Big Bad John” does share some traits with Cash’s contemporaneous hits, most notably the epic, baritone, spoken-sung narrative of tough Western men (e.g., “Don’t Take Your Guns to Town,” “The Rebel – Johnny Yuma”).  Cash is a bit grittier, but Dean’s delivery is perfectly acceptable for this type of song.  In fact, the surprise is how capable a singer and songwriter Dean was. Musically,  “Big Bad John” is more than a little repetitive (although appropriate for a song about toiling miners ) and the chorus is nearly non-existent.  But overall it’s a worthy-enough song for a country hit, though why it overtook Cash on the pop charts is a mystery better left to writers more knowledgeable about this era in pop culture.  I also can’t say if Dean deserves the title of “legend of country.” What “Big Bad John” makes clear, however, is that Dean is more than just a born businessman with a hobby for singing. 6

Hit #1 on November 6, 1961; total of 5 weeks at #1
61 of 969 #1′s reviewed; 6.30% through the Hot 100

60) Dion – “Runaround Sue”

It must have been disappointing to be a Belmont in 1961.  Lead singer Dion (the only one in the group who anyone knows the name of) bunks off and cuts his own record with The Del-Satins on backup, saying he needs singers who can rock.  Not only is it a pretty good record, but it hits #1.  While The Belmonts had a nice run of singles, they never managed to hit the top of the charts.

Most importantly, though, is the sound of the record.  “Runaround Sue” borrows a great deal from “Quarter to Three” (including a suspiciously similar melody) and throws in a little “Mack the Knife“-style rock swing.  What’s notable, though, is what it doesn’t sound like: doo-wop. Sure, there are a few touches here and there – the nearly a cappella intro, the “hey! hey! hum-ba-diddy-diddy” backing vox, Dion’s soaring lead vocals – but, honestly, this isn’t too different from what Elvis or someone else more schooled in straight-up rock and roll would perform.  1961 had been a pretty good year for doo-wop, including a #1 for The Marcels’ “Blue Moon.” But a canny performer like Dion was bound to notice a change was coming: black doo-wop groups were morphing into soul groups, while the charts were becoming increasingly dominated by solo teen idol-types.  “Runaround Sue” sounds like Dion testing the waters, seeing if he could survive on his own but retaining just enough of the trappings of doo-wop so that he could retreat back to The Belmonts if necessary.  He needn’t have worried – he had enough talent, as well as the right balance of sophistication and swagger, to carry on making hits for the rest of the decade.  As for the rest of The Belmonts – well, they weren’t as lucky. 7

Hit #1 on October 23, 1961; total of 2 weeks at #1
60 of 969 #1′s reviewed; 6.19% through the Hot 100

59) Ray Charles – “Hit the Road Jack”

I can appreciate Ray Charles’s versions of standards and country ballads for their significance in music history (crossing race divisions in music) and for bringing Charles into the mainstream.  But if I actually want to listen to a Ray Charles record, I’m more likely to put on some of the electric mix of R&B and gospel that made him a legend.  “Hit the Road Jack” is one such record – in fact, the only one of his #1 hits to be in that style (after the Hoagy Carmichael cover “Georgia on My Mind” but before Charles’s next and final chart-topper).  “Hit the Road Jack” drips with early ’60s hipster cred, from the jazzy horns to the Kerouac reference to Charles’s signature Ray-Bans.  There are no over-emoting strings or session backing vocals here, just a smooth, swinging groove.

The solo female vocalist is Margie Hendricks, Charles’s one-time mistress and mother of one of his 12 children.  She rips into Charles with a voice fiery enough to make any man back away, tail between legs.  Well, nearly any man.  Charles responds to Hendricks with the seemingly contrite “Well I guess if you say so/I’d have to pack my things and go,” but his voice is an aural wink.  They’ve been through this before, and she always relents.  Or maybe this time it’s for real, but she’s an unwitting pawn in his scheme to go out on the road.  Either way, Charles is the one in charge here.  The song may be about a woman throwing out her no-good man, but Charles makes it all about him – just like he does with all of his very best songs. 8

Hit #1 on October 9, 1961; total of 2 weeks at #1
59 of 969 #1′s reviewed; 6.09% through the Hot 100

58) Bobby Vee – “Take Good Care of My Baby”

Gerry Goffin and Carole King are rightly recognized as being one of the best songwriting duos in pop (even the more-celebrated  Lennon and McCartney covered “Chains”).  But for every “Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” which gave voice to the conflict and confusion of being a teenager in love, is another track that doesn’t quite scale those heights:  specifically, the gloopy, toothless “Take Good Care of My Baby.”  The lyrics tell the story of a guy whose girl has left him for another guy.  Fair enough. But instead of trying to get her back or just bidding her farewell, we get a passive-aggressive plea – sure, you can have her, but if you get bored or whatever, he’d like her back, please.   Oh, just remember – take good care of HIS baby.

Part of it may be personal prejudice – in general, I think girls are better suited to singing this kind of pop than guys are.  Maybe I could appreciate the song better if it were boomed out by Shirley Owens or another girl group singer (though it still wouldn’t be a classic).  Bobby Vee’s voice is a little too pinched and nasal, his delivery too earnest and vibrato-laden, to be appealing.  “Don’t be stupid, don’t be limp/No girl likes to love a wimp,” The Mo-Dettes sang in “White Mice.” There’s a fine line between adorably sensitive and just pathetic. Unfortunately, this record falls into the latter category. 4

Hit #1 on September 18, 1961; total of 3 weeks at #1
58 of 969 #1′s reviewed; 5.99% through the Hot 100

57) The Highwaymen – “Michael”

My first guitar lesson happened in my dad’s tiny studio apartment (which, coincidentally, was behind my elementary school).  I would have been about eight years old, maybe nine, between the time when my parents divorced and Dad married my stepmom.  Under the dim lighting absorbed by the concrete walls, he shaped my hand into a C chord, my first three fingers stretching  across the frets.  This was the first chord of the old folk song and spiritual “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore.” Although maybe it wasn’t a C chord – if it were, then I would have had to also play an F, and teaching grade schooler barre chords on their first lesson is just asking for trouble.  Then again, maybe that’s why I didn’t pick up a guitar again until I was in high school.

Even if I don’t remember the chord, I remember the song. “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore” had long been one of my favorite songs to sing at Vacation Bible School and the like, although there are actually few blatantly religious references in the lyrics. There’s “milk and honey,” “River Jordan” and “hallelujah,” but nothing that explicitly marks it as Christian.  (And while, in retrospect, I can recognize that the “Michael” of the title is probably the archangel, I just thought of him as my also-named dad.)  What stuck with me, though, was the music.  Although I hadn’t yet studied music theory, I knew that it didn’t sound like many other songs.  It was too sad, and the melody didn’t resolve itself in the most obvious way.  Its closest relative was “Kumbaya,” but that song was too simplistic.  “Michael,” despite being nothing but four chords and two melodic lines, never got boring or felt too cloying. Plus, it had boats in it. Kids love songs about boats (cf. “Barges,” “Day-O,” “Miss Susie Had a Steamboat”).

So, given all of this, The Highwaymen’s flat reading of the song is a disappointment.  What should be soulful is overly somber, what should be graceful instead plods along mechanically.  It doesn’t seem quite fair to ding them too harshly – this Wesleyan University group  is clearly more professional, polished and technically proficient than most college kid folkies of the time (excepting Joan Baez).  Still, if there’s one genre less concerned with professionalism, polish and technical proficiency than punk rock, then it’s folk.  What counts is the way the performance makes you feel – and for this record, there’s little but a faint feeling of boredom. 4

Liner Notes

• These Highwaymen should not be confused with the infinitely more kick-ass country supergroup comprising Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson and Waylon Jennings.

Hit #1 on September 4, 1961; total of 2 week at #1
57 of 969 #1′s reviewed; 5.88% through the Hot 100