"I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter"

In 1957, a now-forgotten gospel singer named Billy Williams (with a group called “The Charioteers”) released a cover of an old Fats Waller recording of “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” and earned himself a million-seller gold record. The song wasn’t new, obviously, and some of the its popularity came from its nostalgia value. But a million-seller recording is no small event. Nor was Williams the only one to hop on the bandwagon of this particular musical revival . In 1957 alone the song was commercially recorded by fifteen different artists, from Bing Crosby to The Platters to "Scat Man" Crothers to Bill Haley and His Comets, and even to Larry Storch (yes, Larry Storch of “F-Troop” fame). Frank Sinatra beat everyone to the punch with a Nelson Riddle arrangement of the tune in 1954, and went on the record the song two more times in his career. The song continued to be a favorite with singers through the 1950s, the 1960s, and well into our present century, with Paul McCartney recording a version of it as recently as 2012. Did I mention that this was a very popular tune?

But what made a good song such a hit in the first place? Well, it was the talent of the first man to record it, Thomas “Fats” Waller, a pianist/organist credited by some for being the bridge between Ragtime music and jazz. Waller was by all accounts an entertainer’s entertainer, very versatile, having learned his trade through private home lessons on piano and organ. (And this warms my heart: in his early teens he was the organist at the church where his father was pastor.) Money was scarce and life was hard for the Waller family in those first two decades of the 20th century. Thomas was the seventh child in a family of eleven children, only five of whom survived to adulthood. Mrs. Waller taught Thomas the piano, and somehow the Wallers found a way for their son go to high school and to study composition at Julliard, even.

But for Thomas, the place was also a vital component of his success: New York City, at the beginning of the jazz age, when real musical talent was in high demand. To help his family, Thomas left high school at age fifteen to take a job playing the organ at the Lincoln Theater, in Harlem. It was a small jump from there to composing for (and sometimes performing in) Broadway shows. He made that jump with ease, keeping himself musically employed ever after by writing, playing, recording, and even appearing in a few Hollywood films, the most significant of which was Stormy Weather.

Thomas Waller is said to have copyrighted over 400 songs in his lifetime, as well as to have sold many of his own uncopyrighted compositions to OTHER songwriters for quick cash when he was strapped financially. Among these are two of my personal favorites, “On the Sunny Side of the Street” and “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love, Baby” (both officially credited to composer Jimmy McHugh). Some number of Waller’s early pieces were novelty songs, suited to a comic style of music. But we know for a fact that a good number of major jazz standards were his, and that his recordings charted regularly in the 1930s. In the 1970’s he was awarded posthumous Grammys for both “Ain’t Misbehavin’” and “Honeysuckle Rose.” Composer, conductor, pianist, actor, and bon vivant Oscar Levant called Fats Waller “the black Heifetz,” to describe the high artistry of his work. As with many of the best popular musicians, Waller knew his classics. He liked sometimes to entertain his friends with impromptu performances of Bach organ pieces. In the late 1920’s (when he was still in his early 20’s), Thomas Waller recorded a couple of albums of solo pipe organ pieces, syncopated jazz compositions, the first such music ever known to be played on church pipe organs.

My story today would have been perfect had I been able to tell you that Fats Waller composed “I’m Gonna Sit Right down and Write Myself a Letter.” Alas, this song was not one of his uncredited masterpieces. But his version of the song did top the Billboard Charts in 1935 and is still loved and performed to this day. Sadly (as with George Gershwin) we don’t know what Fats Waller might have achieved musically, had he lived a little longer. At the top of his career, he died of pneumonia, en route to New York from California after his great success in Hollywood. He was 39 years old.

Fortunately we have recordings, audio and video, which preserve Mr. Waller’s work. And so now I give you Thomas “Fats” Waller, piano and vocals, performing our song for this week. And I’ve dropped in a second video, a clip from the Perry Como show, with Perry singing along with an entertaining couple who were among those who revived this song in the 1950’s — Martha Davis and Spouse. Listen for Martha’s patter and for her “instrumental solo” and for Perry Como’s jest on his guests’ stage name.