This story has no moral
Despite the fact that I think there was some “hourglass moment” where this song slipped through a narrow channel to flow back out again, there is still so much diversity to the lyrics of this song that a “close reading” is impossible, at least in this venue. Nevertheless, I think there are a few interesting themes in the song that diverge, perhaps, from the songs we’ve discussed so far.
Depending on what you think of the Brown girl in “FairEllender,” and perhaps the female protagonist in “Young Hunting,” this is the first homicide we’ve discussed that’s thought to be justifiable—at least implicitly. In this post, we’ll return back inside the “world” created by the song. Having discussed, in the previous two posts, the real story and the extent to which it is deliberately or implicitly ignored and why, we’ll now take a few moments to discuss the song’s role as morality play.
We’ve now talked about the actual case of Frankie Baker being ruled justifiable homicide by a coroner’s jury. (By the way, there will come a time in the days ahead when we will discuss songs about events involving living defendants who may have been acquitted, where being careful about distinctions of legal guilt, etc. will be very important.)
It’s certainly the case within the imagined world of the song, Frankie’s action is justified—regardless of whether the song sets her free, sends her to prison, or anticipates her execution. It’s the first one where the killer is not the villain (again, depending on the back story of the Brown Girl or Henry Lee’s killer–that is, whether they had legitimate grounds to do what they did).
Many versions of the song, and you can check some choices of lyrics here, contain the verses that say:
This story has no moral
This story has no end
This story only goes to show
That there ain’t no good in men.
As I suggested last night, the line “this story has no moral,” is probably meant ironically. Even when it is used, though, it is sometimes manipulated. We’ll take a look at a few versions over the coming days that vary on whether and how the story has a moral. But, in the grand scheme of the song(s), just how ironic this line is depends on how starkly the rest of the song presents the other elements of betrayal, confrontation, and pathos.
Josh White’s version of the song is characteristically excellent, with his remarkably cool style of delivery. Unfortunately, there’s no copy of it on YouTube, but these gentlemen, the Jazz Tuber Trio, apparently members of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society, perform their own cover of the Josh White version, and the relevant lyrics, at least, are included with the clip.
In Josh White’s version, when Johnny dies, there is a “new man’s face in Hell.” Johnny faces the ultimate condemnation—his infidelity to Frankie, or some other unspecified crime earns him eternal damnation. Interestingly though, White hedges where most singers don’t. He sings that the story only goes to show that there is no good in “some” men. (Usually, the condemnation is more sweeping, extending to all men, which seems more consoling somehow…). But, perhaps because he adds that element of final judgment, he opts to exempt some or most from this eternal outcome.
In addition to Johnny’s moral bargaining in the Sam Cooke version discussed in the previous post, there are a few other phrases in these versions that reflect on ultimate reckoning. In the Bob Dylan version, and ones like it, the condemned Frankie recites “Nearer My God to Thee.” This hymn name also appears in the tragi-comic song about the Titanic—“It Was Sad When that Great Ship Went Down.” Ultimately, Frankie’s statement confirms for the listener that despite temporal condemnation, she faces ultimate salvation.
In this light—of fidelity trumping “thou shalt not kill” as the guiding value—the Frankie songs become both a kind of moral admonition and a means of reinforcing the dominant morality—not in relief, as the other songs we have heard do, but directly.
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Coda:
During “The Great Folk Scare” of the late 50s and early 60s, “The New ‘Frankie and Johnny’ Song” took a more playful turn at the narrative. The versions here, presented by the Greenwood County Singers and Bob Gibson, also covered by the Brothers Four, are part and parcel of a larger trend toward less than serious presentations of the story. We’ve heard what Judy Henske has done to “Young Hunting” and “Omie Wise.”
Incidentally, my dad has explained to me that his vinyl copy of the Greenwood County Singers’ album contains probably the first version of the Frankie and Johnny story that I heard—a fact I had long forgotten. One of my favorite aspects of this version(written by Shel Silverstein and Bob Gibson) is that Johnny’s other interest in this tune is not “Alice Pryor,” “Alice Fry,” or “Nellie Bly,” but instead “Annabelle Lee.” Amazing. I have yet to figure out any thematic ties to the Edgar Allen Poe poem.
Incidentally, the Spotify link misidentifies the song. Also, the Greenwood County Singers, the kind of “Great Folk Scare” combo gently satirized by Christopher Guest’s mockumentary “A Mighty Wind,” included Van Dyke Parks, who has been a part of a number of interesting musical projects over his career.
A YouTube version can be found here, but it can’t be embedded into this post.
More importantly than the presence of Annabelle Lee, the song winks at the morality play aspects of the earlier versions. This new song, unlike its predecessor, states that it has a moral, but the moral of this tale is, “if you’re going to fool around then you better pull the shades.”
In later posts, we’ll turn to a few more examples of the more playful (irreverent seems a little too strong) approach to the murder ballad in the middle 20th century.