Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square
The moon that lingered over London town
In the spring of 1939 an American composer and an English lyricist met in a French fishing village. They fell in love — or rather the couple in their new song did. Only this romance was under a London sky.
The words man was the very British Eric Maschwitz. Eric kept busy during the 1930s by writing the words three major standards (These Foolish Things, Goodnight Vienna & Nightingale) plus several plays and radio dramas. With an OBE (1936) he was about to round off the decade with the screenplay for Goodbye, Mr. Chips.
For this gig he had an evocative title ‘stolen’ (his word) from a story in These Charming People (1923)about the London fast set in roaring 1920s. Eric, then a leading theatre actor, was one of those charmers. He had been there in those Mayfair drawing rooms, worn that smoking jacket.
A title and a mood was all the Hollywood pros needed — they were from the Harry Warren songs for situations school. Pitch composer Manning Sherwin the setup and there would be a tune by close of business. In a couple of hours Eric would add words to seamlessly embrace the melody.
First night flop
Then it was over to a local bar to test audience reaction. Manning played piano, helped out by the resident saxophonist. Eric sang between sips of wine from the glass he was holding.
Stony silence from the other patrons. Le Lavandou fishermen were unimpressed. Not in the mood for a new album track from the Roast Beefs — war coming and all. Plus they weren’t sold on that sax solo.
In April 1940 A Nightingale Sang had its first official public performance in a now blacked out London. New Faces was a song and dance revue staged at the Comedy Theatre, not far from the Ritz. Actress Judy Campbell gave a spirited rendition, aided by Charles Hawtrey, later a linchpin of the Carry on films.
New Faces proved a suprise hit and tranferred to Broadway. This opened the way for several big cheese singers to have a go at its take-home tune. Ray Noble, Ray Noble, Guy Lombardo all rushed to record it. In December 1940 Frank Sinatra took it to №2 in the Billboard 100. Even Glenn Miller weighed in with an arrangement.
By the time America entered the war A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square was already an unlikely entry in its songbook. It is still there eighty years later
What has been the transatlantic appeal? After all, the London that the ‘puzzled moon…lingered over’ was not the one in Ontario.
Nor was there really ‘London town’ in England, either, until Ira Gershwin invented it for That Foggy Day in Damsels in Distress (1937). The only time that Londoners use ‘Town’ is as shorthand for the the West End or centre — to distinguish it from the City of London a couple of miles further east.
The town with magic abroad in the air— is the creation of those glorious RKO musicals. There are two direct shout-outs in the second verse: And we were dancing cheek to cheek/As the dancing feet of Astaire.
You know the drill. Fred sails into Southampton, bumping into a fellow American tourist (‘Why Ginger! Fancy meeting you here!) after comical mixed-up luggage confusion. Cross words are exchanged. Then Fred dons a top hat and tootles off to London in his Rolls.
Where is a gentleman going to stay in the dear old town? Has to be the Ritz, of course. There ain’t no ‘angels dining’ at the Mayfair TraveLodge. And you’re not going to bump into Ginger there, either.
Just a stroll away is Berkeley Square where As the legends tell/Songbirds sing. And for naysayers quibbling about the veracity of those legends there is that emphatic coda.
And like an echo far away/A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
I know ’cause I was there/ That night in Berkeley Square
Versions
My favourite of the early recordings was old-fashioned, even for the era. Elsie Carlisle ‘Radio Sweetheart Number One’ in the 1930s, bowed out with a beautiful rendition — listen for the electric organ and superb diction.
Post war, a full list of Nightingale covers could pave that path from the Ritz to the Square — if stars were unavailable.
Male crooners largely follow Frank Sinatra in D flat but there have been countless variants. Many great versions but of those with the often neglected second verse Mel/Torme with George Shearing is one standout.
Nat King Cole too slow for me (sorry Nat) and not a fan of Rod Stewart’s tux work, though kudos for doing the full version. Vera is especially poignant when we are thinking of those who gave everything on those Normandy beaches.
Some fabulous choral versions, too. If you are looking for something to sing-along-to, then the wonderful Ben England’s rousing HomeChoir version will make your day.
During WWII Eric Maschwitz spiced things up with a little James Bond behind-the-lines espionage work. In his downtime there was a torrid love-life — more in The Magnificent Mr Maschwitz (4 min read)
