While church was every Sunday, for a lot of the late half of the 1970’s my most consistent (though quasi) religious service happened on Friday nights around 7:58 PM, when at the end of their incredibly popular weekly television program, Donny and Marie Osmond would sing:
May tomorrow be a perfect day
May you find love and laughter along the way
May God keep you in His tender care
’Til He brings us together again
Then a hearty “Good Night, Everybody!” would send me into a weekend that, according to the song, was gonna be pretty amazing. Keep in mind this was just broadcast tv, there wasn’t even cable yet - but the next day was Saturday, which for kids had pretty good shot at being a pretty good day. Still, this weekly benediction was an incredibly lofty goal for a 47 minute variety show.
Carol Burnett was on Saturday, and she had a different approach; her closing song was a bit more melancholic:
I’m so glad we had this time together
Just to have a laugh or sing a song
Seems we just get started, and before you know it
Comes the time we have to say “so long”.
Wouldn’t that be prefect to sing at a bar at closing time? You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. This gently lyrical bum’s rush proved lightly jarring after an hour of hilarious comedy (ok, 47 minutes); a bit of a “you’re right it was a terrific party and we should get together again very soon but now I’ve called you a cab and it’s waiting outside ok buh-bye”.
But almost directly between those two, somewhere after cartoons and before the 6 o’clock news, was “Soul Train”, the African-American Bandstand, almost an hour of stone cold jams and for some reason a magnetic letter board.
The host of the show was Don Cornelius, whose smooth manner and exceedingly long microphone now suggests a sort of chocolate Dumbledore. The show was an anchor; black people on tv every week in the same place and not just guest starring somewhere, and the music was incredible, a way to see artists before MTV was even around.
At the end of each episode, Don Cornelius thanked us for watching (or “riding” because it was a…train, in concept) and then, with his microphone magic wand, wished us three things -
Love,
Peace,
and Soul.
Or “Soooooooooooouuuuuul” if you want to pronounce it correctly.
This seemed more practical. Late ’70s Earth was not a particularly peaceful place; the end of the Vietnam War was still fresh in everyone’s minds and civil rights was a new and not nearly ubiquitous practice. Peace didn’t seem the natural state of things, so a wish for peace reached everyone. So much effort was being spent trying to attain peace that it did seem that maybe it could only be granted by providence.
Love held the unique quality at being something truly incredible that we could actually afford. We never had have a lot of money, but there were hugs and notes in lunchboxes and help with homework and sometimes a malt at the Dairy Queen. There were band-aids and hot meals and patience, and I was made to feel that it wasn’t just random, but we all deserved it, which I think gave me a little bit of dignity, and I only needed a little bit ‘cause I was just a little kid. Love’s awesome. No argument there.
And soul. The devil could have anything he wants, but he’s obsessed with our soul, so it’s gotta be really, really valuable. And that means that all of us are really worth something, even if we can’t see the soul and it proves entirely undefinable by those in the philosophy trade. To “have soul” was to recognize this worth, and live authentically within it; to clearly stand up in recognition of who you were from the inside out, even when your outside was always pushing you down.
To be even more philosophical, the Three Great Conflicts of one against the world, one against another, and one against themselves was uniquely blessed by the cargo of the Soul Train; approach the world with peace, each other with love, and respect the soul within yourself.
Ok, he also said “Come back next week, ‘cause you can bet your last money it’s all gonna be a stone gas, Honey!” And I have no idea how “stone gas” would work. What’s that…fusion? Don’t need a philosopher for that, you’re gonna need a scientist, and some research grant money.
Gifts of the 48th Minute.