Kennedy Parody Records

Sterne’s “A Resonant Tomb” chapter from his book The Audible Past got me thinking about how sound recordings can preserve a voice or culture beyond its natural lifetime. Sterne makes a parallel between sound recordings that “can” the voice of the dead and spirit photography, which similarly captures the exteriority of an individual for the sake of posterity.

For whatever reason—maybe because I’m a longtime record collector, maybe because I often find myself preoccupied with 1960s pop culture bullshit—Sterne’s discussion made me think of a series of pop records made during that era that satirized the US’s “first family”: the Kennedys. These records came about, in my opinion, as a result of two not unrelated things: first, the 1960s witnessed an explosion of recorded music that has never been equaled before or since—not only in terms of volume of music/programming released but also in the boom of the record business as a major industry—and second, the sudden presence of a president who was young, sexy, and cool: JFK.

One such record is Sing along with JFK, released in 1961. This record used actual clips from Kennedy’s speeches that were then crafted into catchy pop songs. This record, like other political parody records of the era, was made mostly for the AM radio market. Click here to check out a paradigmatic sample from this album.

By far the best-known Kennedy parody record was Vaughn Meader’s The First Family, released in 1962. Meader, a stand-up comic, had become well known for his impersonations of the president and decided to make an album lampooning JFK and his political cronies. The spoken-word comedy album was an enormous success, selling 7.5 million copies—more than any long-play record album ever had sold before! It also won the Grammy Award for Album of the Year in 1963. To get a sense of its success, try going into any thrift store in the United States and flipping through their used records: you’ll find at least one or two copies of The First Family. I always run into the damn things when I’m hunting for something cool. Someone on Youtube recently posted the entire album, which you can check out if you’d like.

Of course, the mirth came to an abrupt end in November, 1963 when Kennedy was assassinated. You just can’t laugh about JFK’s Harvard accent once you’ve seen his son saluting his casket. Meader’s top-selling album quickly dropped from sight, and needless to say, the JFK parody record era ended.

In a few years, though, the dust had settled and there was a new Kennedy to make fun of: Senator Robert “Bobby” Kennedy. A trio of comedians who called themselves the Hardly Worthit Players recorded a parody version of the Troggs’ hit “Wild Thing” by impersonating Robert Kennedy and released it as by “Senator Bobby.” The chatter at the beginning of the song declares it “take 72,” and the fake engineer encourages the singer by telling him “All right, senator, this one’s for the Democrats, so let’s really hear it.” The song became a Top 20 hit, and many sang along with Bobby as he crooned, “Uh, Wild Thinga…you make my, uh, haaaart singa.”

An entire album of Senator Bobby music was released with a cover that parodied the Beatles’ cover art for their 1965 album Rubber Soul. The 1967 Kennedy spoof album, to contrast, was called Boston Soul, and it featured Senator Bobby “singing” cover versions of pop hits like “Mellow Yellow,” “96 Tears,” and “Daydream.” Some of Senator Bobby’s political colleagues, including “Mr. President” (Lyndon Johnson) and “William Rebuttley, Jr.” (William F. Buckley, Jr.), joined the senator on several tunes. See this Youtube video for a clip of the Hardly Worthit Players “performing” their hit on the old Hollywood Palace TV show in 1967. Wow, those were the days.

Once again, however, the laughter died when Kennedy died. Robert Kennedy’s assassin also killed the last of the Kennedy parody records.

Nevertheless, these records remain as documents of the era and its political climate. If I may return to Sterne in closing, I think his use of the “can” metaphor to articulate sound recordings’ ability to “preserve” the voice of the dead applies rather fitly here. Although for the most part these parody records don’t capture the voices of either John or Robert Kennedy, what they do capture is the spirit of parody. It’s so easy to retrospectively view the 1960s and its fallen heroes with an inaptly rosy sense of awe or nostalgia. Because of the assassination of the Kennedys, their hallowed history tends to obscure the fact that they—like all politicians—were often the butt of jokes. So, in the case of things like the Vaugn Meader album and the “Wild Thing” record, while they may not have accurately “canned” the voices of the Kennedys (Sterne suggests that such “canning” can never really be accurate, anyway), they did successfully “can” the voice of parody, which we can reproduce simply by finding one of the old records and listening in.