Those who seriously seek success often strive for perfection. Rarely is it, however, that anyone ever achieves the goal of indefectibility. But a few do. Some with a book, some with a painting, some with a poem, etc.
Artie Shaw did, with the rendition of a song -- his big-band arrangement of "Begin the Beguine."
I remember when the record first came out in 1938. It was on the flip side of "Indian Love Call," and became an immediate hit.
I, as a dance-hall habitue 23 years young, ran around Lakewood telling friends that the new jukebox entry was destined to become a "duesy" -- in the music world, what a classic Duesenberg was in the automotive world.
My contention brought forth concurrences mixed with only a few we-don't-know shrugs.
Succeeding years bore me out, however. During the more than a half-century since, scores of other bands developed their own versions. Many were merely copycat attempts.
Suffice to say, vying with Artie Shaw was a waste of time. Shaw never was equaled on his "Begin the Beguine."
Other efforts were mere exercises in futility. They only emphasized the superiority of Shaw's product, which remained a jewel amid a myriad of mediocre productions.
How then did this singular pressing come about?
Well, it seems that one night in the late '30s in Boston, maestro Shaw and his arranger, Jerry Gray, while discussing tunes to do, hit upon the Beguine number.
Shaw's musicians frequently had played the song in one form or another at jam sessions. It had thoroughbred breeding -- music and lyrics having been written by a no-slouch composer, the inimitable Cole Porter, and published in 1935.
"Arrange it," Shaw ordered Gray following short-lived circumspection.
After the platter was made under the Blue Bird label, it was an instant national attention-getter, and opened a whole different world for Shaw's band, Gray once recalled.
Shaw popularized the melody for music-lovers everywhere, and his record became a best-seller in 1938.
The hit, however, was an instrumental; thus, many of those who played it had little idea of what the Beguine was.
Actually, it was a dance from the West Indies. In Martinique, it became a national dance. Porter's words and music, of course, did much to make the new step famous.
Shaw is alive today. Born on May 23, 1910, he will soon be 88 years old. Originally, he was Arthur Arshawsky, the offspring of immigrant parents from Manhattan's Lower East Side, who undertook piecemeal jobs making dresses in their basement apartment.
Shaw has been many things besides a musician and a big-band leader. He has been a writer, a lecturer, a bookworm and a recluse devoted to intellectual pursuits.
He appeared in the motion pictures "Dancing Co-ed" and "Second Chorus," and produced a Broadway musical, "The Great Gatsby."
He left the bandstand a number of times during his baton-wielding career. He once told a New York Times reporter that, near its end, he even tried to create new sounds for his audience, but all they wanted was the Beguine.
Finally, he forsook his clarinet, which he played so exquisitely, especially in the loftier registers. He retired from music in 1955 to move on as a writer and film producer.
Today, Shaw must have a veritable treasure trove of memories, many of which, no doubt, are churned forth, not only by his artistic workaday successes, but also by his roller-coaster marital life.
He is unmarried today, but was wed seven times. His wives were Margaret Allen; Elizabeth Kern, the daughter of composer Jerome Kern; novelist Kathleen Winsor and movie actresses Doris Dowling, Ava Gardner, Lana Turner and Evelyn Keyes.
Meanwhile, memories of my youth are revived simply by listening to a cassette of Shaw's Beguine in my car, usually while waiting in the parking lot of a supermarket for my one and only spouse of 58 years to finish stocking up on groceries.
This article by Dan Chabek appeared in the Lakewood Sun Post March 26, 1998. Reprinted with permission.