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The “Shaw” story is an aberration, but it’s worth paying attention to how the song functions, what buttons it pushes, across a range of listeners. While “Ruby” provided a verbal weapon in Eric Shaw’s arsenal of cruelty, the song did not cause that tragedy. It still resembled it, though, which is a reflection of why “Ruby” rings true as a work of art. I’m reminded of George Eliot’s Middlemarch, where the narrator says of Causabon, “For we all of us, grave or light, get our thoughts entangled in metaphors and act fatally on the strength of them.” We know of the immense creative and healing potential found within this genre of music, among other salutary effects. My hope would be that if we’re going to get our thoughts entangled in metaphors, that they be good ones, and if they’re not, that we can extricate ourselves by understanding them better.

“Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town,” © Amanda Cisneros, 2015,
used by permission (link to original below)

“Ruby,” gone to town

As a song and a trope, “Ruby” continues to grow, with new cover versions in the decades since, and influences into other media. It provides the basis for a funny punchline, with ensuing chorus, in the 1994 film adaptation of Richard Russo’s Nobody’s Fool, starring Paul Newman and Melanie Griffith. More substantively, the song inspires new artists in other media, as with the evocative image by Amanda Cisneros above.

“Ruby” has also served to dramatize the real life stories of the disabled community in a meaningful way. Disability activist Anthony Tusler views the song as seminal in the catalog of songs depicting disability, representing a darker counterpart to the romantic “Save the Last Dance for Me,” written by Doc Pomus, who lived with post-polio. As Mel Tillis developed a stutter in early childhood that affected his speaking (but not his singing), Tussler views the song as more compelling still as an account of living with disability.

The song has been covered by a wide array of performers, across genres, and continents; from Lester Flatt, to Leonard Nimoy, from The Killers to Cake. The latter two provide excellent examples of more recent versions. The song also has a number of German interpreters. On the English side, Gary Holton and Casino Steel’s 1980 version contains the adaptation “It wasn’t me who started out that crazy Irish war.”  You can find your favorite in this playlist.

The growing collection of covers and artistic tributaries bears out the mix within “Ruby” of themes both enduring and mutable, simple and complex. It speaks to easily understandable human needs, and catalyzes our thoughts and feelings about war, gender, relationships, and more. My perspective here is certainly partial. Others will find more inside. None of this would be effective at all, however, without the realization that led both Tillis and Rogers to record it, and the one that drew me into listening to it: that it’s fundamentally a good song. This may seem like a trivial conclusion, but one measure of a song’s quality is that you can never fully wrap your mind around it. It continues to reward repeated listening. Whatever problematic qualities it contains, “Ruby” is worth revisiting.

Thanks again for reading, listening, and watching. Special thanks to Amanda Cisneros for sharing her original art. You can find the original image and more about the artist at Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town by AmandaElise on DeviantArt. Finally, Mel Tillis has apparently had some health challenges lately. Best wishes to him for a speedy recuperation and good health ahead.