posted June 18, 2009
Many long years ago, when I was such a young kid I had finally stopped eating my morning Cheerios with my fingers but still used my knuckles to coax the stragglers into my mouth, it was a real big deal at our house to listen to Luther on the radio every morning.
This was back in the early '50s, at a blessed time before there was FM radio, air conditioning or so many of the essentials we now take for granted every day, and our town crier would make us fret over somebody's lost beagle, remind us not to put packages on top of the car, and keep us abreast with the pennant races.
For the past several days, I've been in Minnesota driving back and forth to the Mayo Clinic every day in an eager effort to once again get my sore arm patched up. The way I "handle it" is with 50 years worth of the songs that mean the most to me. I have rock 'n' roll when I need a jump start, all kinds of religious and inspirational music when I seek courage, and the late Lewis Grizzard telling jokes for when I need to lighten up.
Judy Garland, who was Liza Minnelli's mother for those not as old as I, was one of the greatest singers ever. But in the mid-50s, she was on the black-and-white TV set maybe on the old Ford Star Jubilee Show if you really must know, and she began her song with the words "Here is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. You don't hear it much on TV but it's one of my favorites!"
Then, as the band picked up and the snare drums beat a military cadence, she belt out the words from the get-go, "Mine eyes have seen the Glory of the coming of the Lord, He has trampled out the vineyards where the grapes of wrath are stored," and, way back then, I'd get all choked on my Cheerios because that was bigger than the state of Texas to me.
Several years ago I got that song from the iPod people, along with Kate Smith singing "God Bless America," and the Gaither's dazzling version of "Onward Christian Soldiers," and I play them all the time. That said, I never hear them that, albeit strangely, I don't glow inside because of Luther Masingill.
I know, you are going to call Mayo's right now and tell them they are giving me too many of those baby-blue pills. But it dawns on me that as I mourn the days when it was "acceptable" to play "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," and we wouldn't dare not jump to our feet on the first strains of the "Star Spangled Banner," we are missing the chance of a lifetime.
The day is drawing nigh when we'll miss the downtown bus if those of us who are old enough don't pay tribute, in some sort of way, to the 87-year-old marvel who still welcomes Chattanooga to each new morning.
Luther is said to be the only radio announcer still alive to tell the world of both Pearl Harbor and the 9/11 attack. He was first found by jolly ole Joe Engel pumping gas in 1940, probably down at long-since-gone Don Cherry's down on Broad Street.
Joe hired him as a telephone receptionist, of all things, but by 1941 he was in the booth every day and, my goodness, what a treasure he has been not just to WDEF but to our entire city. I was still in short pants when I first met him, going to the feed store with my grandfather to hear the yarns Mr. Engel, Gus Chamberlain, Coyle Ricketts, Noble Simmons and a grand host of others would tell every day.
I'm telling you, it was a technicolor bunch long before there was just monocolor TV. Along would come Mrs. Sandlin, to get Joe to sign the Lookouts' payroll checks, and Mr. Engel would always remind me what he claimed WDEF really stood for. It was something like, "Who Didn't Engel Foul?" or something like that. That wasn't it but that's pretty close, if my memory serves true.
Anyhow, it seems to me we ought to get together, a big bunch of us, and put a huge song in Luther's heart before one blessed day "The Voice" goes to join Gus and Sandy and the rest up in the heavens to tell more stories. I really think Mr. Engel will be up there, too, but well, if he's not they'll still speak highly of the real "Barnum of Baseball."
And if we had a big roast for Luther, wouldn't it be swell to play the songs by Judy Garland and Kate Smith and George Beverly Shea that once real long ago was the morning staple when we children would gobble up our Cheerios, this just before getting on our bicycles so the dogs could follow us to school.
I pray I'll always tingle whenever I hear the song Luther used to play, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," and that I'll never forget to be on the lookout for somebody's lost but much beloved beagle.
royexum@aol.com
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