Johnny Ray, with the Four Lads “Cry” (1951)
For one year in high school, I purchased records by Johnny Ray as fast as they appeared. “Cry.” “Please, Mr. Sun.” “The Little White Cloud That Cried.” “Walking My Baby Back Home.”
Oh, how I wished I could sing like him. But when I tried, it didn’t come out right.
I played his records over and over in my bedroom. The house was small. Even with my door closed, whatever I listened to, my parents listened to it along with me, whether they wanted to or not.
Top of my Dad’s “not” list was Johnny Ray. He couldn’t stand him, hated him with a passion.
I have to admit there was a lot to hate in his singing. Dad complained that he sang off pitch, which he did.
My Dad hated his wailing, and he did wail a bit.
It’s a known fact that Johnny Ray was deaf in one ear and his hearing was deficient in the other one. A few years later, surgery left him deaf in both. Given that, it’s not surprising that his sense of pitch was so uncertain.
But he excited me as he did my classmates and friends. Listening to him separated us from the out of date tastes of our aging parents. I needed to feel that — I was just beginning to get a sense of myself as something other than a clone of my parents.
For a year, but no more, Johnny Ray was my musical avatar.
ADDITIONAL LISTENING
Johnny Ray, “The Little White Cloud That Cried” (1952)
MUSIC & ME 