A Long Lost Song of the Sea?

Sailors don’t care,
Sailors don’t care
Whether she’s dark
Or whether she’s fair!
As long as her lily-white bottom is bare
Sailors don’t care!

I caught myself singing this ditty while going through some paperwork last night.

Better at my desk than in church.

Ribald? You bet! But my real interest lies in the song's connection to American author Edwin Lanham's debut novel Sailors Don't Care (1929), first published in Paris by Contact Editions. The author and his publisher, Robert McAlmon, had contradictory stories as to the origins of the title – each credited the other – though it's probable that they drew from our own John Glassco. Then a teenager, the Montreal poet had learned the song aboard the Canadian Traveller, the ship that in 1928 carried him across the Atlantic to his Montparnassean adventures. Fourteen years later, Glassco wrote McAlmon, reminding him that the title "was taken from Captain Miller's (no relation to Henry) song in the second chapter of those abortive memoirs of mine ... both you and Ed read it, I know."

The lyrics to Captain Miller's song are found in John Glassco's papers at Library and Archives Canada... and, it seems, nowhere else.

Andrew Draskóy, of Shanties & Sea Songs, tells me that "'sailors don’t care' was a common saying around that time in its sense of sailors aren't picky." I note that the phrase also gave title to two American films, the first released the year before Lanham’s book was published. However, what I find particularly interesting is its appearance in the Victor Schertzinger/Johnny Mercer song "The Fleet's In", from the 1942 film of the same name. Its use is... well... fleeting. You'll hear the words just after the two minute mark:

She may be dark or fair,

But sailors don't care...

I wonder, was Johnny Mercer also familiar with Captain Miller's song?

Trivia: Really, isn't everything about this post trivial? That said, it's worth noting that Sailors Don't Care was published twice. The less ribald 1930 Jonathan Cape edition, pictured above, will set you back US$1000. The truly wealthy might consider the most desirable copy of the dirtier first edition. Inscribed by Lanham to McAlmon's partner in publishing William Carlos Williams, it goes for a mere US$2250.

Reliant upon his siblings, McAlmon died in near-poverty in 1956. At the time, Lanham was living a hand to mouth existence as a writer of mystery novels.

Career Advice from A.E. van Vogt

Popular Mechanics, June 1949

Happy Labour Day, Young Fella!

Canadian Reader: Primer II. (Toronto: Gage, c. 1881)

The Homoerotic A.E. van Vogt

Astounding Science Fiction

October 1948

Empire of the Atom

Chicago: Shasta, 1957

Siege of the Unseen

New York: Ace, 1959

Earth's Last Fortress

New York: Ace, 1960

The Twisted Men

New York: Ace, 1964

SF, Not S/M

The House that Stood Still

A.E. van Vogt

Toronto: Harlequin, 1952

224 pages

This review now appears, revised and rewritten, in my new book:

The Dusty Bookcase:

A Journey Through Canada's

Forgotten, Neglected, and Suppressed Writing

Available at the very best bookstores and through

Biblioasis, Amazon, Chapters/Indigo, and McNally-Robinson.

Crayola's Canadian Prime Ministers

Our ninth prime minister, Arthur Meighen, died fifty years ago this month. The anniversary itself, August 5, passed unnoticed, even in his little hometown of St Marys. I chose to recognize the day by sending an email to the folks at Crayola PLC, pointing out that their Arthur Meighen "coloring" page lists the wrong year of death. No response. No correction, either. I just checked... and then took a look at the rest of Crayola's Canadian Prime Ministers. Turns out that Meighen's page is not unique.

Things get off to a bad start with the misspelling of John A. Macdonald's surname, an error repeated on the page of his rival, Alexander Mackenzie.

Don't know why such a big deal is made over Tintin's Mackenzie's editorship of The Lambton Shield; he certainly had much greater accomplishments. Not that the creation of the North-West Mounted Police was one of them. Credit belongs to Macdonald.

Things improve slightly with prime minister #3, John Abbott, though I will quibble with the term "natively born" and point out the misplaced accent in "Quebéc".

All told, thirteen of Crayola's twenty-two prime ministerial profiles contain errors. John Thompson's year of birth is wrong, Laurier and Chrétien's terms of office are incorrect, and poor Louis St. Laurent is not only robbed of his moustache, but is made over as a dischevelled old man in pajamas and bathrobe. We're also told that he was an advocate of something called the "North Atlantic Pact".

He's referred to elsewhere as "Prime Minister Laurent".

The greatest indignity is done to Robert Laird Borden. Sure, his middle name is misspelled... yes, he was the eighth prime minister, not the ninth... but what I find particularly galling is that the man who led the country through the Great War is recognized for nothing more than having been born.

In Crayola's Canada there's a place in Nova Scotia called "Amnerst", a Member of Parliament is a "Parliament member", majority governments are known as "Majority votes" and the Official Languages Act was adopted in "the 1970's [sic]". We're told that King "prevented a separation between French and English Canadians" and Pearson worked as a diplomat right up to the moment he took office. It's a familiar, yet foreign country, one that has been blessed with prime ministers named William King and Charles Clark.

William King was before my time, but I do remember Chuck Clark; in the 1970s he led a Minority vote.

The new school year begins in eleven days.

Related post: Meighen as Monster

No Belly Band Brings Bare Bum Book Ban

First it was the seals, then all those stories about the tar sands, now we have to deal with the disgrace that is British Columbia Ferry Services Inc., laid out for the world to see in the pages of The Guardian and The New Yorker. Goodness, could they not have seen it coming?

Or am I being too harsh? Perhaps the real blame lies with the prissy, prudish people running the corporation's Passages Gift Shops. You know, that area of the ferry devoted to those who'd rather shop for an Orca figurine than take advantage of the opportunity to see the real thing.

"Passages Gift Shops are uniquely West Coast in feel and theme", their website tells us. "The aim is to provide a unique West Coast shopping experience." How do they do it? Just how are they able to offer a unique West Coast shopping experience? Well, one way is by refusing to sell The Golden Mean, the acclaimed first novel by BC native Annabel Lyon. Seems such a curious decision; after all the book hit the bestseller lists, was nominated for both the GG and the Giller, won the Rogers Writers' Trust, and is now garnering rave reviews in the UK. What gives?

As BC Ferries spokeswoman Deborah Marshall explains, it's all about that bum on the cover: "Because we're obviously a 'family show' and we've got children in our gift shops, we had suggested we could carry the book if there's what's called a 'belly band,' wrap around the photo."

Can't say I've ever thought of those trips to Vancouver Island as a "show", family or otherwise. Never once felt tempted to walk out half-way through.

Update: No news to report – international ridicule has not encouraged Passages to revisit its boneheaded decision. In place of their mea culpa, I present the British and American editions of The Golden Mean.

That's the American one on the right. Apparently, being a #1 Canadian bestseller doesn't carry quite the same cachet it does across the pond.