Richard M. Sherman
“A man has dreams of walking with giants to carve his niche in the edifice of time.”
Just last year, Disney enlisted ABC’s 20/20 program for an anniversary special commemorating the one hundredth anniversary of the Walt Disney company. Because I had been disappointed with a lot of the Disney 100 celebrations (they emphasized Peyton Manning more than Fantasia, for some reason), I put off watching it until May 16 of this year.
My favorite part of the special was the brief detour it took into exploring the history of Disney music, specifically regarding the composers who had defined the filmography of the studio. They weren’t all gathered together like the anchors of Weekend Update on SNL 40, but they were each interviewed. Lin-Manuel Miranda, Alan Menken, Kristen Anderson-Lopez, and Robert Lopez were brought in for stories and remarks about what music has meant for the studio and the company over the years. My favorite part, though (as it always is when Disney conducts specials like this), was when Richard M. Sherman, one half of the iconic Sherman Brothers songwriting duo, returned to play the piano in Walt Disney’s old office.
Every time Disney celebrates its history, they trot out Sherman to tell the story of how he spent so many late and intimate nights on the Buena Vista lots playing “Feed the Birds” from Mary Poppins (his boss’ favorite) for Walt. I commented on this with almost a tinge of cynical “come on,” in the sense of asking, “How many times are they going to make him do this?” Nine days later, Sherman sadly died at the age of ninety-five and I realized that he loved to do it. Some people just grasp and understand their legacies and are content to live those legacies while they can.
Sherman happily existed as a living legend — a stalwart of a bygone era when entertainment was meant to be that. He’d made the rounds around the modern Disney pantheons like David Ortiz showing up for pivotal Boston Celtics playoff games or Johnny Pesky hanging out in the Fenway dugout during the 2007 Red Sox season. He was a welcome presence who knew the studio “when” and could enchant with all the wisdom and storytelling that made Disney the kind of brand that we know it to be today. His work and life connected our world to our history. Sure, when he did this, he looked old, but only recently did he look old. I’ve noticed that about a lot of celebrities who age into twilight years. Yes, they still look old in their sixties, seventies, and eighties. But eventually, they turn a corner and they are old. But with people like Sherman, the spirit and personality always prevail. He may not be quick or limber or brunette, but he still twinkled every time he returned to his grandest talent and most comfortable form.
When eulogizing Sherman, so many obvious stories come to mind. The aforementioned “Feed the Birds”/Walt tale, the bird that landed on his piano when he played on Main Street, U.S.A., the interviews he gave with Lou Mongello on WDW Radio. The story of Sherman cannot be told without these anecdotal tales any more than it can be told without the litany of iconic songs he wrote with his late brother, Robert B. Sherman.
(Just to name a few: The Parent Trap, Summer Magic, The Sword in the Stone, Mary Poppins, The Jungle Book, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, The Aristocats, Bedknobs and Broomsticks, Snoopy, Come Home, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Iron Man 2, Christopher Robin, Carousel of Progress, Journey into Imagination, It’s a Small World, Enchanted Tiki Room, and many more.)
For so many people, though, these stories are not obvious because the Shermans were not obvious. What they accomplished was indelible and Richard Sherman is destined to be known forever, even if he is not known by name to anyone beyond a select group of people who can tell you why the D23 fan club is named that. Even I, a Disney devotee, did not know the names of the people who wrote all those theme park earworms until I saw Saving Mr. Banks in 2013 and was obsessed with the fact that Jason Schwartzman and B.J. Novak had been cast to play brothers. I just didn’t know they were also playing legends.
I loved Richard and Robert Sherman, in spite of not knowing them personally and I was glad to be able to follow the active life of Richard Sherman while I could — for eleven years! You cannot write music like Richard Sherman wrote and be anything short of lovable and magical. When you do what he did, you will always matter to the world in a completely unique way. There are no catchier ways to become immortal than how Sherman tinkled his way towards it.
