Baby It's 1944 Outside
Every Christmas for the past few years, people become horrified
by the lyrics of a (this year) 74-year old Christmas song. I remember when my
stepdaughter first heard “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” A relatively new college
student with little cultural context, unaware of the song’s age, but immersed
in all she was learning from professors steeped in women’s studies, cultural
revisionism, and fear of “triggering” someone, she was aghast that such a song
could exist.
Let me say right
here, I advocate women’s studies; it is long past the time when the
perspectives, contributions, and subculture (drowning in patriarchy) of women
was brought to light. And my stepdaughter is no dummy. But many of us, at the
tender age of a few years out of high school, fell into the trap of
subconsciously thinking that the world began the day we were born. This illusion
is magnified by the internet and social media, where hoaxes, warnings, and images
of people who are either heroes or villains are posted and reposted for years
because no one checks to see if they are 1) true, 2) still relevant.
Before we launch
into the discussion, let’s make sure we know the original lyrics:
Baby It’s Cold Outside
Frank
Loesser
I really
can't stay (But baby it's cold outside)
I've got to
away (But baby it's cold outside)
This evening
has been (Been hoping that you'd drop in)
So very nice
(I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice)
My mother
will start worry (Beautiful what’s your hurry)
My father
will be pacing the floor (Listen to the fireplace roar)
So really
I'd better scurry (Beautiful please don't hurry)
But maybe
just a half a drink more (Put some records on while I pour)
The
neighbors might think (Baby it's bad out there)
Say what's
in this drink (No cabs to be had out there)
I wish I
knew how (Your eyes are like starlight now)
To break
this spell (I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell)
I ought to
say "No, no, no sir" (Mind if I move in closer?)
At least I'm
gonna say that I tried (What's the sense in hurtin' my pride?)
[Chorus]
I really
can't stay
(Oh, baby
don't hold out)
Baby it's
cold outside
I simply
must go (But baby it's cold outside)
The answer
is no (But baby it's cold outside)
Your welcome
has been (How lucky that you dropped in)
So nice and
warm (Look out the window at the storm)
My sister
will be suspicious (Gosh your lips look delicious)
My brother
will be there at the door (Waves upon the tropical shore)
My maiden
aunt's mind is vicious (Gosh your lips are delicious)
But maybe
just a cigarette more (Never such a blizzard before)
I've gotta
get home (But baby you'd freeze out there)
Say lend me
a comb (It's up to your knees out there)
You've
really been grand (I thrill when you touch my hand)
But don't
you see? (How can you do this thing to me?)
There's
bound to be talk tomorrow (Think of my lifelong sorrow)
At least
there will be plenty implied (If you got pneumonia and died)
[Chorus]
I really
can't stay
(Get over
that old out)
Baby it's
cold
Baby it's
cold outside
This tune
was written as a call-and-response duet for Loesser and his wife, Lynn Garland,
to sing at a house-warming party in New York. Celebrities were usually expected
to perform at parties in the 1940s, and Loesser wrote this song as a signal that
it was time for the guests to leave. It became so popular, that he and his wife
were invited to dozens of parties over the years. Garland says it was a ticket
to free truffles and caviar, at least until Loesser sold it to MGM for a 1949
movie, Neptune’s Daughter. Esther Williams
(swimming champion and Tarzan’s Jane) and Ricardo Montalbán (think Star Trek’s
Khan) sang it in the movie, and it won an Academy Award; Betty Garrett (Archie
Bunker's liberal neighbor Irene Lorenzo in All
in the Family and landlady Edna Babish in Laverne & Shirley) and Red Skelton also sang it, but with the
roles reversed. [Williams/Montalban and Skelton/Barrett versions of song]
This year, in the wake of the #MeToo movement, people have
taken their horror one step further and called radio stations complaining,
resulting in some stations pulling the song from their playlist. And that’s no
great loss. The song isn’t a great classic like “White Christmas” or “Hark, the
Herald Angels Sing.” Some listeners – survivors of rape and assault -- complain
of being triggered. And if that were a good reason, I would ask radio stations
to never play John Lennon’s “Beautiful Boy” or Israel KamakawiwoĘ»ole’s version
of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” because they remind me of my late son and I
cry. But this isn’t why I’m posting today.
Back to this business about culture – and perhaps society in
general. Things change. What was acceptable 70 years ago may not be so today. I
get that. I see the efforts to remove statues of Confederate generals because they
represent a culture that was built on the lives and backs of slaves. These
so-called memorials don’t just “trigger” African-Americans; they represent a
time this country took a morally wrong turn, and we are still in the process of
trying to amend all it cost. However, there was also a time when courting and
seduction was not an intellectual matter, when one didn’t always marry for
love, but often because of necessity, wealth, business, politics, or expediency.
Yes, these were also times that women often had little say in whom they
married; they couldn’t have men who were friends without there being an
implication of consent and the accompanying shame (only for the woman). On the
other hand, while extramarital affairs were probably just as prevalent as
today, they were frowned upon, especially by the Church, and (again) women were
most often the ones who carried the burden of guilt (and pregnancy).
But let’s not be so pragmatic for a moment. Today, American
society is just as nervous about discussing sex – perhaps more – than in centuries
past. The American language has more euphemisms for sex (and death) than any
other concept in the language. Even television censors did not permit showing
married couples in the same bed in the early days of television. Although Lucy
and Ricky of I Love Lucy were married
and had a baby, they were always shown at bedtime in twin beds. (At first, they
were shown in what looked like a double bed; however, it was plain that it was
two twin beds pushed together, each made up separately.) Except for an obscure
television show, Mary Kay and Johnny,
broadcast from 1947 to 1950, the first couple on television shown in double
beds were The Brady Bunch (1969-1974)
parents and Herman and Lily Munster (of The
Munsters, 1964-66). Okay, some argue it was Fred and Wilma Flintstone of The Flintstones in 1960, but hey, that’s
a cartoon.
So, since what we’re concerned with is a song, let’s look at
music/poetry. Think back to a poetry course you once took. Many of you may have
been introduced to Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress.” I think it’s
important that we include the entire poem here.
To His Coy Mistress ["To His Coy Mistress" audio]
Andrew
Marvell
Had we but
world enough and time,
This
coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit
down, and think which way
To walk, and
pass our long love’s day.
Thou by the
Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst
rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber
would complain. I would
Love you ten
years before the flood,
And you
should, if you please, refuse
Till the
conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable
love should grow
Vaster than
empires and more slow;
An hundred
years should go to praise
Thine eyes,
and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred
to adore each breast,
But thirty
thousand to the rest;
An age at
least to every part,
And the last
age should show your heart.
For, lady,
you deserve this state,
Nor would I
love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time’s
wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder
all before us lie
Deserts of
vast eternity.
Thy beauty
shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy
marble vault, shall sound
My echoing
song; then worms shall try
That
long-preserved virginity,
And your
quaint honour turn to dust,
And into
ashes all my lust;
The grave’s
a fine and private place,
But none, I
think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy
skin like morning dew,
And while
thy willing soul transpires
At every
pore with instant fires,
Now let us
sport us while we may,
And now,
like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at
once our time devour
Than
languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll
all our strength and all
Our
sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our
pleasures with rough strife
Through the
iron gates of life:
Thus, though
we cannot make our sun
Stand still,
yet we will make him run.
Published
posthumously in 1681, this poem may have been written about thirty years before
that. There are some disagreements about what the sudden turn to conceits about
death and the grave in the second stanza means; however, it is generally
accepted to be a poem of seduction, in which (when translated from the archaic
post-Elizabethan English) the suitor tells the lady that if they could live forever,
it might be acceptable for her to play hard-to-get, but since they are mortal
creatures – and still young – they should both enjoy each other as they may. Or
as I used to tell my English students, he says they’re not going to live forever,
so she should give “it” up before they grow to old to enjoy “it.” I haven’t
taught poetry for decades, so perhaps this poem is no longer included in
university anthologies of English poetry, or if it is, perhaps it comes with a
trigger warning. But in its time, it was considered a masterpiece of
metaphysical poetry, perhaps the most recognized carpe diem poem in the English language. You may have even heard a
variation of the phrase “world enough and time” more than once.
Because students
struggle so much with “old” English, I usually taught this poem alongside Billy
Joel’s song, “Only the Good Die Young.”
Billy Joel
Come out
Virginia, don't let me wait
You Catholic
girls start much too late
But sooner
or later it comes down to faith
I might as
well be the one
Well, they
showed you a statue, told you to pray
They built
you a temple and locked you away
But they
never told you the price that you pay
For things
that you might have done
Only the
good die young
That's what
I said
Only the
good die young
Only the
good die young
You might
have heard I run with a dangerous crowd
We ain't too
pretty we ain't too proud
We might be
laughing a bit too loud
Aw but that
never hurt no one
So come on
Virginia show me a sign
Send up a
signal and I'll throw you the line
The
stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind
Never lets
in the sun
Darlin' only
the good die young
Only the
good die young
Only the
good die young
You got a
nice white dress and a party on your confirmation
You got a
brand new soul
And a cross
of gold
But Virginia
they didn't give you quite enough information
You didn't
count on me
When you
were counting on your rosary
They say there's
a heaven for those who will wait
Some say
it's better but I say it ain't
I'd rather
laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints
The sinners
are much more fun
You know
that only the good die young
Only the
good die young
Only the
good die young
Well your
mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation
Aw she never
cared for me
But did she
ever say a prayer for me?
Come out come out come out Virginia don't let me wait
You Catholic girls start much too late
Sooner or
later it comes down to faith
I might as
well be the one
You know
that only the good die young
I'm telling
you baby
You know
that only the good die young
Only the
good die young
Only the
good
Only the
good die young
Only the Good
Die Young lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Even in 1977, this song was controversial, written
from the perspective of a young man who wants to have sex with a Catholic girl.
It supposedly is written about a former crush of Joel’s named Virginia;
however, it seems appropriate that the target of the young man’s lust be named
so. Attempts to have the song banned made it even more popular, and Joel was quoted
as saying the song wasn’t so much anti-Catholic as pro-lust. He also argues
that in the end, the young man does not convince Virginia, and she remains chaste.
Again, this is a lyric that reflects the times. Premarital sex was openly
denounced, particularly by the Catholic church, although it seems to have
occurred often enough, if out-of-wedlock births and rushed marriages are any
indication. Joel also vaguely echoes Marvell’s lament about passing time, but
here, warning Virginia that saving “it” for too long may mean she never enjoys “it.”
Joel adds criticism of the hypocrisy of cultural mores with references to
stained glass windows that block the sun and her mother who appears prayerful
but doesn’t like him so, he reckons, probably doesn’t pray for him either.
This song was released during the “free love”
era, when young people (and some older) were casting aside the games of
seduction, the façade that no one had sex before marriage, and that no one talked
about sex. But compare these two poems:
|
e e cummings
i like my body when it is with
your
body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs, and possibly i like the thrill of under me you so quite new |
William Shakespeare
Whoever hath her wish, thou
hast thy Will,
And Will to boot, and Will
in overplus;
More than enough am I that vex
thee still,
To thy sweet will making
addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large
and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my
will in thine?
Shall will in others seem
right gracious,
And in my will no fair
acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet
receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his
store;
So thou being rich in Will add to thy Will
One will of mine, to make thy
large Will more.
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.
|
Shakespeare died
in 1616 (before Andrew Marvell’s poem was written), and Cummings died in 1962.
It is unclear exactly when either poem was written precisely, but even with at
least 340 years between them, they’re still talking about sex. Because that’s what
we do.
Is Shakespeare
being lewd when he petitions the lady “to hide my will in thine”? Of course,
that’s only one interpretation. When I used to read Cummings’ “I like my body
when it is with your,” students would gasp at “I like, slowly stroking the,
shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh.”
In 1977, they
gasped at “Come out come out come out Virginia don't let me wait / You Catholic
girls start much too late.” But Marvel and Shakespeare probably received only a
sly grin. Readers and listeners knew what went on between men and women in the
17th century, regardless of what they admitted to their pastor,
their neighbors, or anyone else who took it upon themselves to impose their
morals on someone else. Sometime since they, we started to pretend that we don’t
know anything about it.
Perhaps we need
to think about Ringo Starr, now 78, singing, “You’re 16, You’re Beautiful, and You’re Mine.” Eww. What about the Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb” or “Brown Sugar”? Prince’s “Darling Nikki” – well, I don’t think it got any air time. Rod
Stewart’s “Tonight’s the Night.” And then, of course, there’s Frankie Goes to
Hollywood’s “Relax.”
This isn’t the
first year that “Baby It’s Cold Outside” has received criticism. And while “what
about” isn’t a logical argument, there are other “questionable” Christmas songs
such as, “Santa Baby” (more greed than lust) and “All
I Want for Christmas is You.” What if a man sang “All I Want for Christmas is You” instead of Mariah Carey? Isn’t part of the attraction to that song the
fact that the singer is a sultry diva singing
to a man? And what about “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”? Either the kid
thinks his mother is cheating on his father or that there’s no Santa. Either
way, Christmas is going to be unpleasant this year.
Well, don’t get
me started on Christmas songs I hate.
Maybe when all
the grandpas and grandmas who grew up listening to Dean Martin slur the words
to “Baby It’s Cold Outside” are gone, the youngsters can banish the song to the
graveyard of ‘Christmas Songs We Don’t Understand,” like “Good King Wenceslaus”
(1853 – the story of a Czech king who goes out on the Feast of Stephen –
December 26 – to gather firewood and gives alms to a poor man); "Cordenatus ex Parentis" ("Of the Father’s Love Begotten"), composed
by Roman Christian poet Prudentius in the fourth century (because who speaks
Latin anymore?) and "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen,” a German Christmas hymn
by Michael Praetorius, first printed in the 1599 Speyer Hymnal. (To be honest,
we sang this in the choir when I was in eighth grade. We sang it in English, “Lo, how a rose e’er blooming,” in reference to the rose of Judah, the tree of Jesse
– the lineage of Jesus). What about “O Tannenbaum”? How lovely ARE thy
branches?
In the end, you
can argue that it’s a conversation between two consenting adults. And it isn’t
clear from any of these poems or songs if the speaker has his way. Or you can
argue that it’s sexist and offensive and try to erase it from history. Or, you
can use it as a teaching moment because it’s only through education that we can
change cultural attitudes. This is an old song, son, and I like to think the
man wants the woman to stay just a little bit longer. Back then, if a woman
stayed out too late, people might say bad things about her, so that’s why she’s
in a hurry to leave. These days, it might be best if they double dated.
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