Dad Loved Fred Allen

I just wanted to make a record of it before I forget that one of Dad's favorite comedians was Fred Allen.  Allen was intelligent and had great timing.  His voice was fun to listen to.  His face was terrifically expressive with so much terrific irony in his voice.  I remember Dad telling me with fondness and sadness, because Allen was no longer around (1894-1956), that his favorite comedian was Fred Allen.  And this after years of listening and watching Bob Hope, Lucille Ball, Carol Burnett, Jack Benny, and other greats.  I personally enjoyed Steve Allen, though Steve Allen was more of a variety show host.  I enjoyed Don Rickles, who was a bit crass and obnoxious, but in later years I've come to appreciate that more.

Knute Rockne

It goes without saying that Dad loved Knute Rockne and Frank Leahy.  Dad told me that he used to listen to Notre Dame games on his transistor radio and that he loved hearing the announcer refers to Knute's name.

Frank Leahy 

Songs That Dad Loved:

Few things give me as much pleasure as seeing Dad sing and dance, whether with my mom or having fun by himself.  One of my Dad's favorite songs was Chattanooga Choo-Choo, written by Glenn Miller and performed by the Andrew Sisters.  However, I think that Dad would have also loved the version played by the Glenn Miller Orchestra and sung by Dorothy Dandridge and her two dancing companions, the Nicholas Brothers.  My dad loved Glenn Miller but he also enjoyed Benny Goodman.  Another tune that Dad used to enjoy was Glenn Miller's Pennsylvania 6-5000.  I don't remember Dad listening to too many Benny Goodman tunes, like "Sing, Sing, Sing."  I think that Dad liked the slower, rhythmic tunes, like "These Foolish Things." I'm sure that Dad loved Margaret Whiting's song "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve."

I know that Dad loved Tommy Dorsey's song "As Time Goes By" sung by him and by the beautiful Frances Langford, whose specialty, it seems, were songs of romance and longing.  There are songs for which my dad loved the lyrics, songs that made him happy and songs that activated him, revived wonderful moments in his life, and made him dance.. are other songs that spoke to him personally but may not have made him dance or made him feel particularly happy, maybe even rueful, songs with melancholy tones.  This is one of those songs, "I'll Be Seeing You" sung by Frances Langford.  Here, she sings "Nothing But Blue Skies."  Here she sings her signature piece, "I'm in the Mood for Love," though this tune was sung by so many from Doris Day to Louis Prima.  "It Might As Well Be Spring" is another one by Frances Langford that makes me think that Dad and Mom would have enjoyed. I could imagine the two of them listening to this song on a Saturday morning as they begin their weekend chores.  I think that Harry James' song "Sleepy Lagoon" was the background music to Mom and Dad's war years.  "Sleepy Lagoon" could be the song that they could go to to forget their concerns and worries. 

In Dad's retirement years, he enjoyed the Canadian singer, Anne Murray, a lot.  I don't know why.  Was it her rhythm?  Was it her lyrics of "Snowbird"?  I think that he just loved her upbeat voice.  "Snowbird" was her signature song.  There have been so many Canadian singers/songwriters over the years.  She was one of my dad's favorites.  One time when we were in Denver, Dad wanted to run out to get a paper and some sandwiches.  He pulled over at a park and took out his transistor radio, the sandwiches, and a beverage and we sat at a park bench--just me and my dad.  "Snowbird" played on the radio, and he flipped over it.  I remember him telling me "Listen to this terrific song."  I did, but I didn't hear what he heard.  He heard a strong rhythm.  I don't know which song of hers was his favorite--it probably was "Snowbird."  "Somebody's Always Sayin' Goodbye" is pretty good.  She was kind of the female version of John Denver.  Hearing these songs makes me miss my dad and miss having him share with me what it was that he liked.  It was a privilege that he took me into his confidence. 

Dad, Mom, and Family in The Tidings

From left to right, we have Sally, Dad, Danton, Tom, Mom, baby Joe, Mary, Mike, Charlen, and Chuck.

That is Judge Roger Pfaff, one of Dad's favorites, congratulating Dad on the birth of his 8th child, Joseph Patrick Walgenbach on November 6, 1959.

This is the Tidings Edition in which our family is featured.  Its date is November 20, 1959.  I've transcribed the article below.

Here is the article.  The headline reads "Chuck's Day Spans Joy, Tragedy."

     After a two-week stint of doing diapers, cooking meals and washing dishes, Chuck Walgenbach will appear first thing Monday morning in Judge Roger Pfaff's divorce court.  

     Sounds bad, but it isn't.  You see, Chuck is Judge Pfaff's court clerk.  Monday he repots back from a two-week vacation.

     Diapers and dishes a vacation?  WEll, if you could hear the sad tales of wrecked marriages that Chuck hears 35 times a day, a few diapers aren't so bad.  

     The diapers, by the way, increase and multiplied two weeks ago today when Chuck's wife, Sally, had their eighth child, Joseph Patrick, who scaled in at a hefty 10 pounds, 14 ounces.  Mother and son are both resting well at home in San Gabriel Mission Parish.  

How's Chow?

Meanwhile the lean ex-Marine has taken over KP and chores necessary to keeping the Walgenbach household operational.  Lending assistance after all is Charlen 16, Danton 12, Charles Jr., 10, Sally 8, Mary 6, Michael 2, and Thomas 1.

My Favorite Photos of Mom

I love this photo.  I like the gilded frame too.  I need to take a better one sans the glare.  Family members will recognize the location of this photo.  It is Mom's backyard.  She is standing in front of her favorite colored roses.

I love this picture of Mom.  The first time that I saw it was in Denver.  Grammie lived in an underground apartment on Detroit Street at the corner of East 16th Street.  Across the street was, and still is, East High School.  Dad, Joe, Tom, and I went down the side or back stairs, depending on your angle of the building, to Grammie's basement apartment.  Her front door stood directly across, maybe 15 feet, from the water-tube boiler that heated the building.  Grammie opened the door and within seconds she and Dad were engaged in an argument.  They went into the kitchen to talk.  Quickly my eyes scanned the room.  A black Bakelite 500 dial phone rested on an end-table next to small sofa.

           A Bakelite 500 phone.

A few pictures hung on the wall for beauty.  A dingy oval rug domesticated the room.  A window in the west wall was at sidewalk level.  Pictures on a table in the corner caught my eye--they were family photos.  As I approached them I was hypnotized by the beauty and familiarity of one.  It was my mother, a very young picture of my mother smiling, hopeful, and expressing delight.  She was beautiful; she was young; she was smiling.  This was the woman I had dreamed of, of a happy, beautiful, young mother.  And there she was contrasted with all of my sorrowful memories that I conjured and carried around in my head.  Maybe she wasn't unhappy, older, or defeated at all.  Maybe those characteristics were projected self-perceptions of being defeated by my losing efforts at winning exclusivity with and ownership of my mother, and from those the right and the responsibility to defend and protect her. I remember being lured to the corner by the photo.  I picked it up and studied every upward wrinkle of joy and optimism in a face I'd prayed for restoration.  I was falling in love with the picture for the first time and with my mother all over again.  From that moment on I saw my mother as a buoyant, youthful woman.  It in turn restored me.  By the way, that horsehead bookend was a birthday present from my sister, Mary, years ago.  I didn't like them immediately; in fact, I thought of throwing them out.  But I held on.  And now I am so happy that I kept them.  I love them.

Mama showing off her See's candy.  The restaurant looks like Alcapulco's, and the date is obviously very near July 15.  The year may be 1999.