Our Benson family reunion, under the inspired :) personal leadership of my grandfather Ezra Taft, was held in Nauvoo, Illinois, in the summer of 1979.

One of our activities was a boat ride on the Mississippi River. After being out on the Mighty Miss for awhile with Grandpa and the clan, things, quite frankly, got pretty boring so I began looking around for something to liven the place up a bit.

I spotted a jukebox at the rear of the boat, on the main deck, so I went over and checked out the selections. Being a child of the '70s who loved good ol' rock-'n-roll like Creedence Clearwater Revival, Sly and the Family Stone and Chicago, I was disappointed in the old machine's meager offerings. Finally, out of desperation, I settled on a Glen Campbell tune that I had never heard before--"Southern Nights"--and dropped in a quarter.

Here's a bit of history on this popular country pop tune--which Campbell recorded in Los Angeles, California, in October 1976 and released under the "Capitol" label in January 1977--where it soon rocketed to Gold status as both the nation's #1 country hit single and #1 contemporary adult hit:

"'Southern Nights' [was] . . . written by Allen Toussaint and most famously recorded by American country music singer, Glen Campbell. It was the first single released from Campbell's 1977 album, 'Southern Nights,' and reached #1 on various country and pop charts. . . .

"The lyrics . . . were inspired by childhood memories the track's songwriter, Allen Toussaint, had of visiting relatives in the Louisiana backwoods which often entailed storytelling under star-filled nighttime skies. When Campbell heard Toussaint's version, he immediately identified with the lyrics which reminded him of his own youth growing up on an Arkansas farm."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Southern_Nights_(song)


Feel the mood as Glen meant it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wOUFo4Lwf8


As you can tell, the tune had a soft, aw-shucks rock beat--and to make matters worse (as I was soon to find out)-- unacceptably suggestive lyrics. You can both watch and listen to Glen Campbell singing it here, live. See if you can pick out the Satanic verses (while averting your eyes from the sexy back-up singers):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=re8lGcWq394


What? Still can't find the beef? OK, then, read the lyrics right here with your own eyes:

"Southern nights,
Have you ever felt a southern night,
Free as a breeze,
Not to mention the trees
Whistling tunes that you know and love so.

"Southern nights,
Just as good even when closed your eyes,
I apologize
To any one who can truly say
That he's found a better way.

"Southern skies,
Have you ever noticed
Southersn skies,
Its precious beauty
Lies just beyone the eye,
It goes running through the soul,
Like the stories told of old.

"Old man,
He and his dog that walk the old land,
Every flower touched his cold hand,
As he slowly walked by,
Weeping willows would cry for joy.

"Joy . . .

"Feels so good,
Feels so good it's frightening,
Wish I could
Stop this world from fighting,
La-da-da-da-da, da-la-da-da-da,
Da-da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da.

"Mystery,
Like this and many others
In the trees,
Blow in the night,
In the southern skies.

"Southern nights,
They feel so good it's frightening,
Wish I could
Stop this world from fighting,
La-da-da-da-da, da-la-da-da-da,
Da-da-da-da, da-da-da, da-da."

The song was just getting into its apparently oh-so-nasty-"feels-so-good" part when my Aunt Beverly Benson Parker (daughter of Ezra Taft and Flora) came marching over to the jukebox, where I was standing trying to connect to the jungle throbbing of Campbell's corrupt crooning. (This, by the way, was the same Aunt Beverly who, at a wedding banquet for my younger sister Meg had, after listening to the father of the groom get up and offer a few remarks, leaned over and smugly observed, "Well, we know which family was blessed with the spirituality," causing one of the Benson sisters-in-law--May Hinckley who was married to my Uncle Reed--to get up in disgust and leave the table).

But I digress.

Scowling deeply, Bevy laid it on heavy, telling me in no uncertain terms that the song's lyrics were completely unacceptable, then sternly ordering me to turn off the jukebox. I informed her that the jukebox could not be stopped in mid-song and that the tune would have to play itself out. Frustrated, she suggested that I unplug this contraption from hell but I did not consider that to be a reasonable option. She became quite perturbed and waited impatiently until the jukebox had stopped its Luciferian lyrics (the song ran for an agonizing, sin-saturated three minutes).

In the meantime, I spotted my grandfather up toward the front of the boat, dancing to "Southern Nights" with one of the grandkids. Which, I guess, made him a fallen prophet and led him to give the sermon, "The Fourteen Fundamentals of Dancing with the Devil."

**********


(related link on the craziness of it all: http://exmormon.org/phorum/read.php?2,996551)



Edited 12 time(s). Last edit at 08/21/2013 05:30AM by steve benson.

Sounds like my Aunt Bev was a lot more fun at a family party than your Aunt Bev. My Aunt Bev and Uncle Mark were alcoholics who looked and sometimes acted like Bogey and Bacall. I think the other grown ups may have placed bets on which one of them would get tipsy first and create drama by spilling their plate in Grandma's lap.

As a BIC child, I didn't want to grow up to be like the dour adult Mormons, who whispered reverently at parties, and who scowled at anything that was fun. Dancing, singing, joking, was all like Loud Laughter, and of the Devil. As TBM children, we were not allowed to laugh at the dinner table! If we did, we were sent to bed without any supper. My wicked sister always tried to make me laugh, so she could have my dessert. She turned out to be very fat, but funny.

Okay, the ban on loud laughing would be the final straw for me. I don't remember ever being told that as a child.

I love that song. So did my father and he was about as anti-rock as you could get.

Some people just look for things to get offended by.

Puritans were not dour and sexually repressed, but they sure got stuck with a bad rep. These folks sound lime the Puritans who (allegedly) objected to bear baiting not because it brought pain to the bear but because it ammused the spectators.

Aunt Bev prolly would not have approved of our TBM family reunions with my rock band playing all day.