Lately, because of unusual circumstances for B and me, I’ve been thinking about an old song I have loved since college days… My Ship. It was written in 1941, “for the Broadway play Lady In The Dark, by Ira Gershwin and Kurt Weill. It was premiered by Gertrude Lawrence in the role of Liza Elliott, the editor of a fashion magazine. In the context of the show, the song comes in a sequence in which Elliott, in psychoanalysis, recalls a turn-of-the-century song she knew in her childhood.” Wiki
I discovered it in ’66 while in school at the Berklee School of Music. Somehow it rang, and still rings to this day, a faint, distant bell for me that I can’t begin to explain.
It’s worth pointing out that an absolutely gorgeous song can be composed by a man who looks like this – Kurt Weill. The cover of this particular book obviously doesn’t scratch the surface of what’s inside the book.
Kurt Weill
And why was Ira writing with Kurt Weill? Because his brother, George, had died in 1937 of a glioblastoma of the right temporal lobe.
My Ship has been sung by many fine singers of days gone by… June Christy, Nina Simone, Judy Garland, Nancy Wilson, Sarah Vaughn, Doris Day. The music to the song is gorgeous, hinting of a far away time and place. Here are Ira Gershwin’s lyrics, which were obviously written to be sung by a woman. That woman whom we mentioned earlier, was Gertrude Lawrence –
my ship has sails that are made of silk
the decks are trimmed with gold
and of jam and spice there’s a paradise in the hold
my ship’s aglow with a million pearls
and rubies fill each bin;
the sun sits high in a sapphire sky
when my ship comes in
I can wait the years
till it appears
one fine day one spring
but the pearls and such
they won’t mean much
if there’s missing just one thing:
I do not care if that day arrives
that dream need never be
if the ship I sing
doesn’t also bring
my own true love to me
In my junior year at Berklee, I was given the assignment in arranging class to write a complete 16-piece band arrangement of a popular song. My class had at least 3 band ensembles per week, and in our junior year we began playing our own arrangements of songs. Somehow, my song was assigned to Charlie Mariano’s Wednesday band, which had some of our best players in it.
So you know, Charlie Mariano was a well-known alto and soprano sax player in jazz circles. He was one of those semi-famous professors at Berklee, teaching there from 1965 to 1971. Back then Berklee had a wealth of fine musicians and composers who had gravitated to Berklee for a more secure employment. Phil Wilson, fine trombonist; Herb Pomeroy, composer and sax; Ray Santisi, piano; Allan Dawson, drummer; John LaPorta, sax.
Charlie
Anyway, after his time at Berklee, “Mariano moved to Europe in 1971, settling eventually in Köln (Cologne), Germany, with his third wife, the painter Dorothee Zippel Mariano. He played with one of the Stan Kenton big bands, Toshiko Akiyoshi (his then wife), Charles Mingus, Eberhard Weber, the United Jazz and Rock Ensemble, Embryo and numerous other notable bands and musicians.” Wiki again.
I was nervous to have my piece played by the Wednesday Band. And why I picked My Ship I will never know. But the band played it, and it turned out to be the best arrangement I ever did while in school.
Charlie cued the piece, then sat down on a folding chair to the side. He sat, while it played, looking down, as if lost in thought, or perhaps memories. The band played it beautifully and I was thrilled, goose bumps and all. When they finished the piece, Charlie looked up at me, and simply nodded. And that was enough.
I recorded my simple piano version of it today. Here it is –
As I said at the top, because of recent circumstances, I’ve been slipping back to thoughts of My Ship for several months now… so much so that I wrote a free form poem about it. Along with the fact that it’s Nov. 6th, 2024. This day also provided some inspiration for the poem.
My Ship
When all the raging dark possibilities of life
Come crashing in
First one, then another
And then, mercilessly
Yet another
The mind grasps for strength
For a reason
For a twig
Anything
How much suffering is too much
How much suffering invites,
Nay, demands
A certain madness,
Because a mind has limits
And no heart, no matter how strong, how wise
Can control it
This mind grapples for logic
For reason
This mind knows its limitations
And this mind knows
Those limits
Have been reached
And, perhaps, breached
Its head lies down
Into a soft, quiet warmness
And it drifts, out of necessity
And survival
To another time and place
It rests upon a ship
A tall ship, at anchor
My ship, my home
For the past several years
The memory of that beautiful ship
My safe haven
My first home
In a far away land
In a far away time
And then, deliberately
I’m in our little cottage
At the edge of the North Sea
My ship secured in the harbor
Just down the street
I lie on a soft pallet
In the corner of a small, dark wooded room
At peace
I know my ship lies at anchor
Being repaired for the recent damage
To her in our latest skirmish
Which we won
Losing only three crewmen
In the fray
Yes, at peace, for the moment
As all the things I live for
All the things that matter
Are, for the moment
In good hands
The fire crackles
The oil lamp hisses
The woman sews quietly
In the next room
I am warm, safe, without concern,
For now
For any peace I find
Is only a fleeting moment
To be recognized
Humbly accepted
And deeply appreciated
As is a deep breath
Of reason, of freedom
And the woman,
Ah, the woman, my lady
She has made such a home
For us here
This cot is no better
Than the cot on my ship
But my ship is not my home
Though it could be
I’m sure my lady could make the ship
Into a home, if needed
Just her being there with me
Would make it home
But that’s not the purpose
Of my ship
Or of me
The rain on the roof
The magic of blessed sound and nutrient
Falls from the sky
And into our senses
Into our hearts
It falls from the sky
Sometimes fierce
Sometimes soft
Often with an emotion
We feel deeply
But cannot describe
And outside, with the dark rain
Comes the wind, angry carrier
Blowing any sign of sanity and common sense
Away, to barren lands and open waters,
To finally land and settle where no man lives
No man listens
No man understands
Yet I lie here on this cot
My momentary world unfolding
Into a calm understanding
An understanding
Of the elements of this life
I have little control of
The world and its madness
Has stopped now
If only for the briefest moment
I hear the rain
I hear the wind
I hear, inside, the fire and the lamp
My ship rests easily
No longer under fire
As my lady quietly sews
All that I value
Has simultaneously breathed
A rare sigh of relief
And I am at peace.
Steve Hulse
