Frankie & Johnny

To say ‘Frankie and Johnny’ is the most ubiquitous song in the long, strange saga of folk music would not be correct, but this was not the case in 1905. A surly, drunken riverman once laid out six bits on a wager that I couldn’t name the song.

“Kind sir, I am certain you mistakenly wish me to say ‘Frankie and Johnny,’ and I will – for nothing will give me greater pleasure than to relieve you of your pittance.”

The riverman cursed and spat and needlessly reminded yours truly that ‘Yesterday’ would not be recorded for another three score years.

A fine anecdote, but I have been retained by this phonograph company to produce illuminating liner notes.

Frankie was Frankie Baxter. Johnny was Allen Britt. The alteration resulted either from the insistence of the Britt clan or the cadential needs of a trio of Tin Pan Alley songsmiths. At this point, I will spare you, dear reader, from the boredom of required phrases such as ‘the oral tradition’ and ‘Carl Sandburg’.

And, due to the strict word limit imposed by my esteemed patron, I will not attempt an untangling of this song, a vulgar knot of truths, half-truths, and genuine untruths, which, in more adequate space, would foolishly spew forth. Nary a soul knows precisely what transpired on that October 1899 night in St. Louis – particularly Messrs. Lombardo and Buscaglione.

Mark Twain, Hannibal, Mo.