By Dr. Bruce Smith ——Bio and Archives--September 27, 2023
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There are many songs that take us back to a different time. The best of these songs take us back to happy days that we can remember with positive emotions.
This song, written by Bernie Wayne and Lee Morris in 1950, charted well for a young Tony Bennett in 1951, reaching the top 20. As is often the case, other artists picked up the song and recorded it, but the interpretation that everyone remembered was the 1963 version, recorded by Bobby Vinton on the Epic label.
It was on the Blue on Blue album. Blue Velvet went to No. 1 in 1963. We heard it often then and in the years that followed.
It was one of those songs that upon hearing it the first time became an instant favorite of many people. Vinton sings it to a girl he never names, so every boy could sing it to any girl. There’s the color which suggests something sad but magical at the same time. Think of midnight blue. There’s the velvet fabric itself, soft and sensual with a depth that always seems luxurious and warm. Jewels rest in velvet in display cases. It lines drawers for the finest silver. It’s found on the British Imperial State crown. Ice cream and cake and drinks are named after it.
At the beginning we don’t know how it will end.
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet were her eyes
Warmer than May, her tender sighs
Love was ours
Ours, a love I held tightly
Feeling the rapture grow
Like a flame burning brightly
But when she left gone was the glow of
Blue velvet
But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm a memory through the years
And I still can see blue velvet through my tears
She wore blue velvet
But in my heart there'll always be
Precious and warm a memory through the years
And I still can see blue velvet through my tears
When we’re twelve and thirteen and fourteen there are mysteries and emotions we don’t understand. It’s a confusing world we struggle to navigate. When warm emotions and music combine perfectly, the music brings an inner glow composed of many things. Pair this glow with a dance or a quiet moment for magic memories.
The song evokes a specific place and memory for me, however. Not far from where I lived was a place called Melody Skateland. It had a proper wood floor, was rather large, it seemed to me, with a fairly low ceiling, a mirror ball, and speakers all around. There was a sound booth where someone played records. A snack bar with booths and a fountain, popcorn, candy, and pinball machines were over in one corner beyond where the entrance and skate rental was located. There were always icy cold Oasis water fountains. Skating is exercise, and we would get warm in there no matter the season, but moving on skates was fun, even for people who weren’t all that good at it, like me.
There were songs I only heard at the Skateland. One was Ray Anthony’s band and chorus doing the Bunny Hop. Even without much skill, the Bunny Hop was just plain fun. The record they had featured alto saxophones for the curious tune. We hopped as hard as we liked on the wood floor, but it was easy to sit down fast if we were still struggling with balance.
Some people had their own skates. They brought them in a case, like a custom bowling ball. To see these expert skaters speed gracefully around the floor turning the corners by putting one skate ahead and in front of another was a treat in itself. I was in awe of those who turned back and forth between skating forward and backward with an easy swoosh as they went by. The hiss of the wheels on the wood floor combined with the music from the speakers and blurred skaters to make multisensory photos in my mind.
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There had to be someone close by who was better than any other skater to be a referee. He often wore a striped shirt like basketball referees, and had a whistle. Rowdy skaters would sometimes race or push and shove and endanger other skaters. When this happened the referee would sprint around, sound the whistle, and break it up, sometimes sending the offenders off the floor.
For me, the highlight of the evening was the DJ or director calling out special skates over the PA system. Over the course of the evening there would be a girls skate, and a boys skate. There would sometimes be races around pylons set at the corners of the floor. There was always an intermission so the floor could be swept. After each of these the caller would return to All Skate so that those of us who had been resting a bit could return to our ovals.
There were special skates like the Hokey Pokey, usually done in a circle. It was important for boys to find a place between two girls. If there were no suitable places to be found, then we just sat on the sidelines.
Exotic above all were the couples only skates. The lights would go down and a romantic song would come over the speakers. Necks craned to see who was skating with whom because there were surprises sometimes. Chaperone couples would skate together, and that was fun, too. The couples could hold hands or, if they were skilled, put arms around each other and skate side by side with coordinated strides along the straightaways and around the curves. I remember Blue Velvet played for the last couples skate of the night one time. Many would turn in their skates to get ready to leave, but some of us just watched the couples and hoped our chance might come some day at the Melody Skateland. If it were winter, going from the warm and humid building out into snow and ice was shocking.
With luck and a little experience, I finally got to where I might go the entire evening without falling. I counted it a major victory to avoid embarrassing myself in front of people I might want to impress. To avoid more embarrassment it helped to get a ride home with a friend so as not to be the guy who had to wait for his mom to pick him up. Not cool! I doubt there were more than half a dozen skates I ever attended, but I close my eyes and still get the glow just thinking about being there in those bewildering but usually happy days.
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Dr. Bruce Smith (Inkwell, Hearth and Plow) is a retired professor of history and a lifelong observer of politics and world events. He holds degrees from Indiana University and the University of Notre Dame. In addition to writing, he works as a caretaker and handyman. His non-fiction book The War Comes to Plum Street, about daily life in the 1930s and during World War II, may be ordered from Indiana University Press.