 Ladies and gentlemen, the railroad hour. And here comes our summer show train with your host, Gordon McRae. The association of American railroads, the same railroads that bring you most of the food you eat, the clothes you wear, the fuel you burn, and all the other things you use in your daily life brings you the railroad summer show starring Gordon McRae with Lucille Norman, the sportsman, and the music of John Rarig and his orchestra. And here is your host, Gordon McRae. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, the association of American railroads pays tribute to the distinguished American composer, Mr. Ethelbert Nevin, and to his music, which has become part of the rich musical heritage of America. The story of Ethelbert Nevin is the story of an earlier era in American music. He was born the 25th of November of the year 1862, and he died 39 years later, leaving behind him a musical signature that would be deathless and timeless. Many of his songs you know, some like this one may be new to you. But Ethelbert Nevin set this famous poem to music in 1900, and your grandparents sang it around the parlor piano. Nevin's own dedication of the song read, To My Little Choir at Vineacre. You see, it was written for the small girls who like to gather around his piano on Sunday evenings and sing with him. He loved children. You will see that over and over. As you hear the poems, he chose to set the music. Down near the end of a wandering lane that runs round the cares of day. Conscience and memory meet and explain their quaint little quarrels away. A misty air castle sits back in the dusk where brownies and hobgoblins dwell. This is the home of a busy old gnome who's making up dream things to sell. I walked through the portals of sea and came to a weird little place where the elf men should keep. A dream that I find now and his only sweet happy dream of a dirt may come through. But I'd been there yourself and he'd given my dear dream to you. Nevin was born about 15 miles from Pittsburgh at the family home known as Vineacre. The days were the dark pain shadow days of civil conflict. As the nation grew up around him he grew and he kept pace with the nation for 39 years. As a child he loved music. At three years old he was singing songs and by the time he was five he was playing his own accompaniments. He came by his love of music naturally because his father loved music and his mother had insisted that a grand piano be lugged across the Allegheny Mountains to western Pennsylvania when she was but a young girl. They say it was the first piano in that part of the country. His father must have realized the influence of that piano when Bert came to him one day when he was in college and said father I want to make music my profession. You want to do what I said I want to make music my profession. You mean you want to be a professional musician. Yes sir. Why Bert no one in our family has ever had to descend to being a paid piano player. Oh father I wish I could make you understand. I love music. It's like bread to me and it's like water by it's it's even like champagne. Bert I love music too. I've seen that you had lessons. I wanted you to know music and to appreciate it. But for a respectable livelihood I must insist that you go into some sort of business. And so Ethelbert Neven tried to become a businessman. He poured over books during long tedious hours while his heart hungered. He forced his fingers to push a pen across the pages of ledgers while his fingers actually ache for the keyboard. He doggedly tried to keep from thinking of music but everything he read every poem he glanced at became music to him. The little toy dog is covered with dust what sturdy and staunch he stands. The little toy soldier is red with rust and his musket more than his hands. He read poems such as Eugene Field's Immortal Little Boy Blue and many years later he would set those poems to music. Oh he loved music. If he was to live at all he had to live music. He tried again and again to explain this to his father and at last he was successful. He went to Boston to study and then to Berlin and the years were busy stimulating years full of hope. Somewhere in between the etudes and the preludes the sonatas and the concertos he fell in love. Her name and Paul and she was all that no woman had ever been before or could ever be again to Ethelbert Neven. They set their wedding date for January 5th of the year in 1888. They were young, they were in love and the world belonged to them. The day before they were married Bert said to her, Anne I'm not good enough. I never will be but darling I'll do everything I can to make you happy. I don't know how anyone could be any more happy. Oh Bert do you suppose anyone ever felt this way before? I don't. They may have thought they did but they couldn't have. Not really. Not like this. No, they couldn't have. Not really. Not like this. Oh I want to gather up the whole world and put it right at your feet. You have, didn't you know? I have a wedding gift for you. Something I have fashioned just for you and for this day. I found some stanzas by Charles Kingsley. I made them into a song which is, well it's my wedding gift to you. I have the manuscript here. I'll sing it for you. Come sing with me. It's yours. Just as all my music will be yours. Just as I. We'll be back with the second act of the story of Ethel Burton-Evan and his music in just a moment. But first a message from the railroads. We are so much in the habit of thinking of our railroads simply as the railroads that many of us are inclined to overlook what they really mean to each of the thousands of communities they serve. Of course, first and foremost the railroads mean transportation. The sort of transportation which has made it possible to settle and civilize the American continent in a few short decades. They provide the efficient, economical, dependable and safe mass transportation upon which our whole system of mass production, distribution and consumption depends. What important as transportation is, this is not all that railroads mean to communities. They mean payrolls. Payrolls scattered in Hamlet, town and city all over the 48 states of the Union. In fact, the railroads are one of the largest employers in this country and at the present time have more than one and a quarter million people on their payrolls. These people together with their families, number three and a half million, a group about the same size as the entire population of the city of Chicago. The railroads also mean purchases. Purchases of more than 100,000 different items ranging from paper clips to giant locomotives. These purchases are made in practically every city, town and agricultural community and help to give work to hundreds of thousands. The railroads mean taxes, taxes not earmarked for the special benefit of railroads but contributions to the support of such functions of government as schools, fire and police protection, the administration of justice and even the highways, waterways and airports used by competitors of the railroads. Essential transportation, payrolls, purchases, taxes. These are the railroads' contributions to the national economy. That's why it is frequently said that national prosperity is geared to railroad prosperity. That's one of the reasons it's so important to keep our railroads in a state of good health for reasonably prosperous railroads are necessary to an enduring and satisfactory prosperity for our country. And now here is the second half of the railroad hours tribute to the distinguished American composer, Mr. Ethelbert Nevin. Ethelbert and Anne Nevin lived for a time at Boston and then at Quincy. At Quincy on December the 5th they were joined by Ethelbert Paul Nevin, a handsome young fellow of nine pounds. Three nights later Ethelbert was busy at the piano with a poem by Eugene Fields writing a song for his son. The nurse said to him, Mr. Nevin you're going to disturb the baby with that noise. Oh, he's going to have to get used to this noise, nurse. He might as well start right now. You see, he seems to like music. Paul my boy, let daddy tell you a story that a wonderful poet calls a Dutch lullaby. The story belongs to the poet, but the music, the music belongs to you. Lincoln and Lincoln and not one night, sail off in a wooden sea, river of misty land. What do you wish? The old moon, ask of the three, come to fish for the herring fish that lived in this beautiful sea. Nets of silver and gold have we, we said, Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln and not. Nets they threw for the fish in the twinkling foe. From the sky came the wood, a fisherman hoe, so pretty a sail. And some folks thought was a dream of sailing that beautiful sea. One shoe that sailed the skies is a wee one strung eyes while daddy sings of wonderful size that we shall see. You know, Anne, when I began to study, I thought I just wanted to play music. But now I want to write it. I want to put into music everything I feel when I look at you, when I look at my son, when I look at the world around me. Into music went Ethelbert Nevin's love of family and of home and of children everywhere. He was not a strong man. He lived but 39 years. His son would know him for 13 of those years. His daughter, Dorothy Anne Nevin, would know him for but nine. In the final analysis, they would know him best of all through his music. Children, we found this song in your father's things. Come over to the piano. I want you to listen to it. We are so much more fortunate than many people, my darlings. For although he has left us, we still can hear him speak to us in his music. He died in 1901, 48 years ago. He did not live to see Marty Lacroix become an American classic. He did live, however, to know that his famous piano composition, Narcissus, was finding its way to almost every piano in America. And he did live to see another of his songs until 32,500 copies in one year. A phenomenal record in those days. And it was this song that had him worried the most. When he wrote it, he said to his wife, Anne, I don't know whether this song has any real musical merit at all. I guess only time will tell. And time has told for of all Ethelbert Nevin's great catalogue of music, this one song stands out above all the rest. Timeless, belonging to the ages. I spend with you. And so, for music that has become a treasured part of the musical growth of this nation, the railroad hour salutes the genius and the music of Ethelbert Nevin. The last tribute to the memory of Ethelbert Nevin, the railroad hour is proud to be sent to Mr. Paul Nevin, a scroll honoring his father. It is signed by William T. Ferrisse, President, Association of American Railroads. And here to accept the scroll for Mr. Paul Nevin is the soprano of the Metropolitan Opera Company and star of the craft music hall, lovely Dorothy Kirsten. Mr. Gordon, it gives me a great deal of pleasure to accept this scroll on behalf of Paul Nevin, Mr. Ethelbert Nevin's son, who was unable to be here this evening. The music of his father has been a great source of pleasure and inspiration to this nation through the passing years. And I know it will continue to be through the years to come. Next week, the railroad hour will pay tribute to an author lyricist of one of Broadway's recent successes, Mr. Frederick Low and Mr. Alan J. Lerner, and their great score for Brigadon. You'll hear many familiar hits, and among them, this great favorite. Ah, where I was falling, I could swear. The railroad summer hour is written by Gene Holloway and is brought to you each week at this time by the American Railroads. These railroads are your hometown partners. They are an essential, dependable working part of the life of thousands of cities and towns all over America. Railroads employ local people, often by supplies locally. They own local property and pay local taxes on it. They are responsible citizens and good neighbors in your own hometown. Well, it looks as though we're ready to pull out. So until next week, goodbye. And now for Lucille Norman, the sportsman, John Raring in his orchestra, and your host, Gordon McRae, a hearty invitation to meet us again next week at this same place on your dial. We'll have more songs and a tribute to Alan J. Lerner and Frederick Lowey and their score for Brigadon. This is Marvin Miller speaking.