The Christmas Song and Mel Torme
The true tale behind The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire) is a favorite Christmas story in and of itself.
When you hear the familiar lyrics, you can almost see the composer sinking back into his Barcalounger beside a crackling fire. He might be nursing a cup of heavily-spiked ‘nog after a bellyful of Christmas Eve banquet.
Maybe there’s a smug smile on his face, discounting the excited kiddies running haywire as Santa’s big trip draws near. And of course there’s a fresh flurry of snowflakes beginning to fall outside…
Hard-boiled Christmas Reality
It’s the San Fernando Valley, a sweltering July, 1945. Mel Tormé drives out to Toluca Lake for a work session with his collaborator, Robert Wells.
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Mel writes music. Bob writes words. When Mel knocks on Bob’s door, nobody answers.
Mel lets himself in, makes himself at home, sees a writing pad on Bob’s piano. Upon inspection, the pad exhibits a penciled poem in four lines: Chestnuts roasting on an open fire |
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It’s hard to imagine December before Robert Wells arranged those words in that particular order, but there it is…
Mel finishes reading, and Bob walks into the room—he’s sweating in white tennis shorts and a T-shirt. Mel asks him about the poem. Bob answers,”It was so damn hot today, I thought I’d write something to cool myself off. All I could think of was Christmas and cold weather.”
Still baking in the heat, they both sit at the piano. Mel puts music to the rhyme. They pencil another verse, and a bridge… In less than an hour, a holiday classic is born.
The two call their manager straight away, then motor into Hollywood and perform the song for him. Before long, they play it for Nat King Cole, too. Nat loves it, but it takes a year to get into the studio and record it.
“The rest,” Mel writes in his autobiography, “could be called our financial pleasure.”
Palmy Christmas Futures
Robert Wells went on to create many songs and produce many TV specials for top stars, winning six Emmys in the process.
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As for Mr. Tormé, nicknamed “The Velvet Fog” by a radio disc jockey, he wrote over 250 songs on his way to becoming one of the great male singers in the history of jazz.
A man of many talents, Mel acted in dramatic film and television rolls, served as musical advisor and arranger for The Judy Garland Show, hosted his own documentary series, and wrote six books, including a biography of his friend, drummer Buddy Rich. |
A Christmas Coda
I think it’s fitting to end this Christmas story with another Christmas story about Mel Tormé, a personal account by TV and animation writer Mark Evanier:
I want to tell you a story…
The scene is Farmer’s Market — the famed tourist mecca of Los Angeles. It’s located but yards from the facility they call, “CBS Television City in Hollywood”…which, of course, is not in Hollywood but at least is very close.
Farmer’s Market is a quaint collection of bungalow stores, produce stalls and little stands where one can buy darn near anything edible one wishes to devour. You buy your pizza slice or sandwich or Chinese food or whatever at one of umpteen counters, then carry it on a tray to an open-air table for consumption.
During the Summer or on weekends, the place is full of families and tourists and Japanese tour groups. But this was a winter weekday, not long before Christmas, and the crowd was mostly older folks, dawdling over coffee and danish. For most of them, it’s a good place to get a donut or a taco, to sit and read the paper.
For me, it’s a good place to get out of the house and grab something to eat. I arrived, headed for my favorite barbecue stand and, en route, noticed that Mel Tormé was seated at one of the tables.
Mel Tormé. My favorite singer. Just sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee, munching on an English Muffin, reading The New York Times. Mel Tormé.
I had never met Mel Tormé. Alas, I still haven’t and now I never will. He looked like he was engrossed in the paper that day so I didn’t stop and say, “Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed all your records.” I wish I had.
Instead, I continued over to the BBQ place, got myself a chicken sandwich and settled down at a table to consume it. I was about halfway through when four Christmas carolers strolled by, singing “Let It Snow,” a cappella.
They were young adults with strong, fine voices and they were all clad in splendid Victorian garb. The Market had hired them (I assume) to stroll about and sing for the diners — a little touch of the holidays.
“Let It Snow” concluded not far from me to polite applause from all within earshot. I waved the leader of the chorale over and directed his attention to Mr. Tormé, seated about twenty yards from me.
“That’s Mel Tormé down there. Do you know who he is?”
The singer was about 25 so it didn’t horrify me that he said, “No.”
I asked, “Do you know ‘The Christmas Song?’”
Again, a “No.”
I said, “That’s the one that starts, ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…’”
“Oh, yes,” the caroler chirped. “Is that what it’s called? ‘The Christmas Song?’”
“That’s the name,” I explained. “And that man wrote it.” The singer thanked me, returned to his group for a brief huddle…and then they strolled down towards Mel Torme. I ditched the rest of my sandwich and followed, a few steps behind. As they reached their quarry, they began singing, “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…” directly to him.
A big smile formed on Mel Tormé’s face — and it wasn’t the only one around. Most of those sitting at nearby tables knew who he was and many seemed aware of the significance of singing that song to him. For those who didn’t, there was a sudden flurry of whispers: “That’s Mel Torme…he wrote that…”
As the choir reached the last chorus or two of the song, Mel got to his feet and made a little gesture that meant, “Let me sing one chorus solo.” The carolers — all still apparently unaware they were in the presence of one of the world’s great singers — looked a bit uncomfortable. I’d bet at least a couple were thinking, “Oh, no…the little fat guy wants to sing.”
But they stopped and the little fat guy started to sing…and, of course, out came this beautiful, melodic, perfectly-on-pitch voice. The look on the face of the singer I’d briefed was amazed at first…then properly impressed.
On Mr. Tormé’s signal, they all joined in on the final lines: “Although it’s been said, many times, many ways…Merry Christmas to you…” Big smiles all around.
And not just from them. I looked and at all the tables surrounding the impromptu performance, I saw huge grins of delight…which segued, as the song ended, into a huge burst of applause. The whole tune only lasted about two minutes but I doubt anyone who was there will ever forget it.
I have witnessed a number of thrilling “show business” moments — those incidents, far and few between, where all the little hairs on your epidermis snap to attention and tingle with joy. Usually, these occur on a screen or stage. I hadn’t expected to experience one next to a falafel stand — but I did.
Tormé thanked the harmonizers for the serenade and one of the women said, “You really wrote that?”
He nodded. “A wonderful songwriter named Bob Wells and I wrote that…and, get this — we did it on the hottest day of the year in July. It was a way to cool down.”
Then the gent I’d briefed said, “You know, you’re not a bad singer.” He actually said that to Mel Tormé.
Mel chuckled. He realized that these four young folks hadn’t the velvet-foggiest notion who he was, above and beyond the fact that he’d worked on that classic carol. “Well,” he said. “I’ve actually made a few records in my day…”
“Really?” the other man asked. “How many?”
Tormé smiled and said, “Ninety.”
Although its been said
Many times, many ways
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas to…You!
Read More: Mel Torme, Robert Wells, Nat Cole, chestnuts roasting, Christmas, music, holidays, entertainment
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I was quite delighted to find your site while looking for some background on ‘The Christmas Song’ by Mel Torme & Bob Wells. Thanks muchly for posting. Happy Holidaze, d’P