Today’s Lyrical Tuesday pays tribute to three people who influenced us with song.
These two songs give a picture of two very different Americas.
Abel Meeropol (February 14, 1903 – October 29, 1986) was an American writer, teacher and song writer, whose works were published under his pseudonym Lewis Allan. His best-known song is “Strange Fruit” (1937), especially as recorded by Billie Holiday.
Abe and his wife Anne cared for and adopted Michael and Robert, the two young sons of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who were orphaned after their parents were executed for conspiracy to commit espionage — the government accused them of having stolen the secret of the Atomic Bomb. The boys took the Meeropol surname to gain some privacy.
He also wrote the lyrics to “The House I Live In” recorded by Frank Sinatra. Sinatra credits Holiday for having the greatest single musical influence on him. Both Holiday and Sinatra were born in the same year, 1915. Both sang about love, tragedy, and pride.
Billie Holiday
“Strange Fruit”
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swingin’ in the Southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin’ from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant South
The bulgin’ eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burnin’ flesh
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the tree to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop
https://youtu.be/98CxkS0vzB8
Frank Sinatra
“The House I Live In”
What is America to me
A name, a map, or a flag I see
A certain word, democracy
What is America to me
The house I live in
A plot of earth, a street
The grocer and the butcher
Or the people that I meet
The children in the playground
The faces that I see
All races and religions
That’s America to me
The place I work in
The worker by my side
The little town the city
Where my people lived and died
The howdy and the handshake
The air a feeling free
And the right to speak your mind out
That’s America to me
The things I see about me
The big things and the small
That little corner newsstand
Or the house a mile tall
The wedding and the churchyard
The laughter and the tears
And the dream that’s been a growing
For more than two hundred years
The town I live in
The street, the house, the room
The pavement of the city
Or the garden all in bloom
The church the school the clubhouse
The millions lights I see
But especially the people
Yes especially the people
That’s America to me