Back in high school, there was never a correspondence that we didn’t seal with a SWAK and mean it. We used it even more when a popular group in the ’60s sang about it. That group was The Lettermen.
When DZRJ-100 announced the coming of The Lettermen for a series of concerts, I knew I had instant comrades who would share and appreciate their kind of music.
Still, I was cautious.
I told my friend, Maurita: "The Lettermen were known for soft, slow and romantic songs. That means two hours of smooth and soothing ballads."
"What do you mean?" asked Maurita. "Will they put me to sleep?"
"Maybe, if they would sound as old as we are. Nevertheless, it should be a relaxing evening," I replied.
My friend frowned, "Who’s old? Only in your bones."
We caught up with porcelain beauty Frannie Jacinto with popular couple Henry and Jojo Zabarte. Frannie asked, "Are you also watching The Lettermen?"
I nodded and turned to catch another contemporary, Dolly Galang, who was also going to the concert.
Just before reaching our seats, we saw Richard and Kate Gordon who chuckled at seeing so many familiar faces. Kate said, "The baby boomers are out en masse."
I also saw my former college mate who sat next to me in all our history lectures, Bettina Legarda with hubby Chito Legarda. The music of The Lettermen must have added to their long-enduring romance.
The Lettermen opened with a warm-up song about a lovely world before breaking into a familiar tune, Put a Little Love in Your Heart.
There was instant rapport. The three gentlemen on stage knew how to work up their vocal chords, so the blending was smooth and melodious.
From the first trio that we listened to in high school, only Tony Butula remained.
To the crowd’s astonishment (and delight), the harmony and the smooth fusion of voices stayed intact. Tony Butula, with Mark Preston and Donovan Tea, made sure the music that became the proud hallmark of the group stayed authentic and impeccable.
I sat snuggly to enjoy the evening together with another cousin, Remy Jose.
Tony, Mark and Donovan were out to give the audience a good time. As they sang popular standards, like Memories with a more contemporary arrangement, followed by songs closely identified with the group, like Traces, Hurt So Bad, Put Your Head on My Shoulder and Shangri-la, it was clear that here was a group who held our hands music-wise, as we evolved from gawking teens to young, enthusiastic and responsible members of society.
The song Shangri-la gave me instant recall of an evening spent with a group of fun-loving friends. They took me down a flight of steps to a pitch-black dungeon – supposedly a disco bar – somewhere in Dewey Blvd. (now Roxas Blvd). There was romantic music playing in the background, which set me at ease, but the place was so dark that I could not see my hand in front of me.
Suddenly, I heard the strains of a familiar love song. With a tiny flashlight, I saw shadows of twosome couples cozying up to each other.
"Ah, young love," I sighed while The Lettermen continued to sing, "…each kiss is magic that makes my little world a Shangri-la…."
Tony Butula related how he became a member of the Mitchell Boys Choir at eight and was awestruck to watch Frank Sinatra perform on stage. With that, he paid tribute to Ol’ Blue Eyes with signature standards, like I Get a Kick Out of You, I Got You Under My Skin, and Night and Day.
The tempo changes and another favorite was sung, Morning Girl.
The Lettermen sang of silly boys and shy girls, the stirrings of young love, its joy and pain, its heaven and hell. At least, to young minds that’s how deep it felt. Their genre included rock and roll, pop, easy listening, and even revivals of the hits of the ’50s, like Love Is a Many Splendored Thing, The Way You Look Tonight, When I Fall in Love, and Unchained Melody.
Holding well on his own, Donovan from Memphis and Texas sang about his little girl who has "deprived" him of his sleep but captured his heart completely. He sang his own composition dedicated to Daddy’s Girl.
By this time, the crowd was captivated by one love song after another. When the band played Copacobana, Mark left the stage to mingle with the audience.
The trio enjoyed reaching out to the crowd and they demonstrated this once more by inviting those with cameras to come up to the stage to take photos.
As they sang Up, Up and Away, Venus, and Warm, surprised and elated fans took turns for their photo ops.
A friend sent me a text saying that The Lettermen covered several decades. She was right. One hit song that was released in 1967-68 had us singing it at work and not in the school campus anymore.
When buried in paperwork and pressure mounted, we’d break the tension by playing songs appropriate to the situation. Going Out of My Head mixed with Too Good To Be True became instant favorites.
Why were they called The Lettermen? Tony explained that in America, students earned their letters by excelling in sports as exceptional athletes. They obviously continued to stay fit outside the school grounds.
A short intermission followed with the second half showing film clips of America’s popular television hosts like Jack Benny, etc. The most applauded songs were longtime favorites of the baby boomers, and the audience gasped in appreciation longing for the good and simple days of long ago.
Precious and Few combined with Cherish had the audience singing their hearts out; everyone knew the lyrics, too.
Tony also mentioned that this would have been their 12th or 15th visit to Manila and the 45th year that the group has been singing professionally.
To show that they have indeed made the most of their several visits to Manila, they regaled the audience with their own versions of Filipino love songs sang with no cue cards and complete with English translations. The coliseum swayed to the sweet tunes of Hindi Kita Malimot, Sapagkat Kami Ay Tao Lamang, Ikaw, and Dahil Sa Iyo. Those beautiful Filipino love songs were great to listen to. What a perfect night to hear them once again.
The same with the song The Seventh Dawn. Funny how the melody and the lyrics seemed to have been stored somewhere in the mind, and it took a night of good music to resurrect them.
Much of the music of The Lettermen have their attendant clichés that targetted the baby boomers: Short-term memory that has become persistent, aching muscles and bones that literally played to their own moaning and creaking orchestra, salt-and-pepper crowns, potato bellies, and love handles.
In a magazine I recently read, a lady author described that she was coping with the "heightened irritation factor." In short, an increased sensitivity to noise.
Bullseye.
When children throw a tantrum, when they yell or the honking of horns, the noise from the radio and the throb of trucks and machines that could drive anyone to distraction (or destruction?), their combined sounds have a nasty way of causing you to show your fangs, if not clench your fist.
Keep cool and assume a calm, nonchalant look, and try your best to break into a smile because the young would know that only old people get irritated by these things.
The important thing is not to forget the perks: "We have enduring lifetime friends. We have the comradeship of shared experience. We have learned to live with our faults. We have stopped thinking about the what-if scenarios and we have kept that childish optimism that the date stamped in our passport might just be, ah, a clerical error."
And The Lettermen sang You’ll Never Walk Alone.