Little Girl Blue

by Randy L. Schmidt

Early Carpenters promotional photo, 1969. A&M Records

  In rehearsal and in concert, Long Beach, California, December 1970. Frank Pooler

  Karen as the American Cancer Society’s national youth chairman. The Carpenters donated proceeds from concert tour book sales to the ACS. American Cancer Society

  At home on Newville Avenue with Agnes, Harold, and Richard, early 1971. Robert Trendler/Globe Photos

  A serious pose from a duo usually known for their “toothy twosome” personas. A&M Records

  Karen at age twenty-one. A&M Records

  On location for Tom Jones’s London Bridge Special, Lake Havasu, Arizona, February 1972. A&M Records

  With Frank Pooler backstage at the Chevron Hotel, Sydney, Australia, May 1972. Frank Pooler

  The Carpenters during their second visit to the White House and first time visiting with President Richard M. Nixon, August 1972. Nixon Library/National Archives

  The Carpenters softball team comprised band members, roadies, and opening act Skiles and Henderson. A&M Records

  Photographed in director’s chairs the duo received as gifts from an appearance on The Carol Burnett Show, 1972. A&M Records

  Hollywood Bowl, 1974. Sherry Rayn Barnett

  On the lot at A&M Records, 1975. A&M Records

  On stage at the Westchester Premier Theater in Tarrytown, New York, May 22, 1975. Norma Segarra

  The “lead sister” in her element at Toronto’s O’Keefe Centre, August 1976. Bob Olsen/Toronto Star/GetStock.com

  A casual look for a 1976 photo session. A&M Records

  With guest star John Denver in a “Pocahontas” skit, later deleted, from The Carpenters’ Very First Television Special. ABC-TV

  Filming a Suntory Pop soft drink commercial for Japanese television, 1977. Suntory

  Singing “White Christmas” on The Carpenters at Christmas TV special, 1977. ABC-TV

  Karen at age twenty-seven. A&M Records

  December 3, 1978: Joining the choirs and orchestra from California State University, Long Beach, Karen performs at the Winter Festival Concert in the newly completed Pacific Terrace Theater in Long Beach, California. This would be the Carpenters’ final American concert appearance. Leo Hetzel

  Concert program. Author’s Collection

  Karen photographed during one of several West Coast sessions for the solo album. Here she is listening to playbacks in studio A on the A&M Records lot in Hollywood, early 1980. Bonnie Schiffman

  At A&M Records. Bonnie Schiffman

  Dancing and drumming in “I Got Rhythm,” a production number from the Carpenters’ final television special, Music, Music, Music, filmed March 1980. ABC-TV

  With guest stars Ella Fitzgerald and John Davidson in Music, Music, Music. ABC-TV

  One of several Made in America photo sessions, 1981. A&M Records

  7

  AMERICA AT ITS VERY BEST?

  IN THE nation’s capital for a music industry awards dinner, Karen and Richard visited the White House as guests of presidential assistants James Cavanaugh, Ken Cole, and Ronald Ziegler on April 25, 1972. There they met Julie Nixon Eisenhower, the president’s daughter and a fan of their music, but President Richard M. Nixon was in a meeting with Henry Kissinger and unavailable at the time of their visit. The Carpenters returned to the White House just months later on August 1, this time meeting briefly and posing for photos with President Nixon in the Oval Office. He thanked Karen for her work as National Youth Chairman for the American Cancer Society, an organization the duo supported with the donation of more than one hundred thousand dollars in proceeds from concert tour program sales. Conversation with Nixon was trite. He was known to be inept at making small talk, and Karen and Richard were quite nervous, too. Nixon asked about the amount of sound equipment the Carpenters carried on tour. “About 10,000 pounds,” they told him.

  “We can probably hear you all the way here,” he replied, referring to their scheduled concert in nearby Columbia, Maryland.

  In the spring of 1973 Sherwin Bash was contacted on behalf of President Nixon with a request for the Carpenters to entertain at the White House following a state dinner honoring West German Chancellor Willy Brandt. Bash was quick to accept the invitation on the group’s behalf, and on April 30, 1973, during a hectic touring schedule of one-nighters, the exhausted Carpenters entourage flew into Washington, D.C. Unbeknownst to them, the Watergate scandal was on the verge of erupting. In fact, just one day prior the president had met with key advisors Bob Haldeman and John Ehrlichman at Camp David, where he confirmed their suspicions that they would be asked to resign their positions.

  As the Carpenters relaxed in a nearby hotel, President Nixon addressed a nationwide television and radio audience from the Oval Office regarding Watergate. “I want to talk to you tonight from my heart on a subject of deep concern to every American . . .,” he began. “Today, in one of the most difficult decisions of my presidency, I accepted the resignations of two of my closest associates in the White House. . . . In any organization, the man at the top must bear the responsibility. . . . I accept that. And I pledge to you tonight, from this office, that I will do everything in my power to ensure that the guilty are brought to justice, and that such abuses are purged from our political processes in the years to come, long after I have left office.”

  As the Carpenters’ orchestral director Frank Pooler was transported to the White House for his Tuesday morning rehearsal with the Marine Corps Orchestra, agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation secured the files of Haldeman and Ehrlichman by placing guards outside their offices. Press Secretary Ronald Ziegler called it a “safeguarding procedure.” Nixon was outraged to learn of the guards and quickly arranged for them and the files to be transferred to a less conspicuous location. Unaware of the heightened security issues, Pooler went on rehearsing the group he remembers as the best orchestra he ever worked with while with the Carpenters. “Usually it took me two hours to rehearse an orchestra,” he says, “but these guys were so good we were done in about an hour. We finished fast and got a private tour of the rooms of the White House the tourists don’t generally get.”

  That evening after dining at the Jockey Club, the band gathered in their downstairs dressing rooms to prepare for the performance. Frank Pooler realized he was the only one in the group who had yet to meet the president. “I’ve got to meet him,” he told Sherwin Bash. “I’m here, for God’s sake. It’ll be something to tell my grandchildren.” Bash directed him to the Grand Hall where a receiving line of distinguished guests, many in uniform, waited to meet Nixon. Pooler found the president to be much friendlier and better looking in real life than in pictures or on television. “Nixon was charming,” he says. “He told me that his daughters had been fans of the Carpenters for a long time.” As Pooler was introduced to Mrs. Nixon, he could hear the band warming up. “I’m sorry,” he told the First Lady, realizing he was late, “I don’t have time to talk to you!” The three laughed as Pooler rushed to lead the orchestra.

  Around 10:30 P.M., the president and Mrs. Nixon entered the East Room. Addressing the crowd, which included then soon-to-be Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and his date, actress Mamie Van Doren, Nixon proclaimed, “The Carpenters are very much alive. They are young America at its very best. Mr. Chancellor,” he said, addressing the dignitary, “knowing how you have such affection for young people all over the world and how you, as well as I, are working for the peace that we want for them and their children in years to come, we think that, tonight, having the Carpenters—one of the finest young groups in America—entertain us is most appropriate.”

  The Carpenters opened their performance with “Close to You,” musically tiptoeing in an attempt to please such an esteemed audience. “We were afraid to touch anything,” Karen recalled. “I was afraid to even breathe on the drums. I was barely touching them because I didn’t want to offend anybody.” She drummed on more rhythmic numbers like “Love Is Surrender,” “Top of the World,” and “Mr. Guder,” but returned to
center stage on the ballads. The Carpenters’ new drummer, former Mickey Mouse Club Mouseketeer Cubby O’Brien, had recently joined the group following the departure of Jim Anthony.

  In a variation on her standard end-of-show monologue, Karen thanked Pooler and the orchestra before going on to say, “I know I speak for all the people that are associated with Richard and me when I say that being invited to the White House to perform, or just being invited to the White House period, is not only a thrill, but it’s indeed an honor.” She then addressed Chancellor Brandt directly, saying, “Gute Nacht. Auf Wiedersehen.”

  President Nixon joined the band onstage as a standing ovation spread across the East Room. “We do have dancing afterward,” he announced, “but we can’t afford the Carpenters!”

  DURING THE summer tour of 1972, the Carpenters introduced a medley of oldies, songs from the 1950s and 1960s that were enjoying a renaissance at the time. In fact, entire radio stations were switching to an all oldie format. Working toward their fifth album release, Karen and Richard realized there was only enough new material for one side of an LP. Desperation and a lack of time fueled Richard’s visualization of an entire side of an album dedicated to a version of their oldies medley that would be bookended with an anthem with the message conveying “the oldies are back!” He asked John Bettis to come up with a list of possible song titles. The list of at least thirty prospective titles was narrowed to one favorite, “Yesterday Once More.” The anthem was born as Richard drove up Highland Avenue on his way to A&M. He heard a melody and the start of a song lyric in his head. Arriving at the studio, he played his ideas for Karen and later came up with a first verse.

  When I was young I’d listen to the radio

  Waitin’ for my favorite songs

  When they played I’d sing along

  It made me smile

  Richard returned to Bettis, who created a temporary or “dummy” lyric for the chorus with every intention of reworking the words at a later time. “Well, are you going to change this now?” Richard asked as the song neared completion.

  “You know what,” Bettis replied, “I don’t think so! I think it sounds great this way.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No,” Bettis said. “This ‘Sha-la-la-wo-wo-wo’ stuff sounds pretty good!”

  A leftover song title suggested by Agnes Carpenter, “Now and Then,” became the name of the new Carpenters album released May 1, 1973, the day of the duo’s White House performance. An impressive tri-gatefold cover illustrated Karen and Richard driving past their huge Downey home in Richard’s red 1972 Ferrari 365 GTB/4 Daytona. The “Now” side of the LP began with its debut single, which hailed from television’s Sesame Street and composer Joe Raposo. Karen and Richard first heard “Sing” while taping a television special called Robert Young with the Young for NBC-TV. The catchy melodic hook left everyone on the set singing and humming the song.

  Richard was so taken with “Sing” that he started arranging their version while on set at NBC studios. The finished product featured the Jimmy Joyce Children’s Choir on the sing-along “la-la” sections, but it was hardly the type of single the group needed at the time. “The Munchkin Song,” some fans called it. A&M did not want to release “Sing” as a single, but Richard was confident of its commercial potential. He was right, and “Sing” went to #3 on the U.S. charts. When performing the song in concert, the Carpenters often solicited the help of local children’s choirs.

  The crowning jewel of Now and Then came in the form of a Leon Russell tune from his Carney album. Overlooked as a single due to its duration, “This Masquerade” was one of the Carpenters’ most sophisticated recordings ever, with its haunting melody, Karen’s intricate drum track, and an impressive flute solo by Bob Messenger.

  Rounding out side A was the Carpenters’ 1972 cover of Hank Williams’s country classic “Jambalaya (on the Bayou),” completed for this album and released as a single in the United Kingdom. “I Can’t Make Music” was penned by occasional opening act Randy Edelman and perfectly suited for the Carpenters treatment. “The Carpenters have gone awry,” wrote outspoken rock critic Lester Bangs in his review of Now and Then. “Side One’s alright, just what you needed; more of that nice, syrupy, ultra commercial pap. ‘Sing’ is one of their all time best singles, and the essence of the act: ‘Sing of good things not bad.’ But Karen’s reading of ‘Jambalaya’ is almost as bad as John Fogerty’s, and there may be gray clouds passing over Carpenterland because she manages to sound almost used in Leon Russell’s ‘This Masquerade’ while ‘I Can’t Make Music’ is the Carpenters’ hymn of despair like Traffic’s ‘Sometimes I Feel So Uninspired.’”

  The “Then” side of the Now and Then LP began with “Yesterday Once More” and, as planned, the monstrous medley of oldies that Richard crafted to emulate a Top 40 radio show. Each selection segued into the next and was joined by the radio deejay antics of multitalented guitarist Tony Peluso. Narrowing down their favorites, Karen and Richard settled on a list including “Fun, Fun, Fun,” “The End of the World,” “Da Doo Ron Ron,” “Dead Man’s Curve,” “Johnny Angel,” “The Night Has a Thousand Eyes,” “Our Day Will Come,” and “One Fine Day.” Their “Yesterday Once More” single went on to become the duo’s fifth #2, placing them in a three-way tie with Creedence Clearwater Revival and Elvis Presley for the most #2 singles in chart history. The song also proved to be the Carpenters’ biggest worldwide hit and at one point was #1 in Belgium, England, Hong Kong, Israel, Japan, Malaysia, Singapore, and Venezuela.

  BY THE time President Richard M. Nixon had declared the Carpenters to be “young America at its very best,” Karen and Richard were three years into what became a futile struggle for control over their public image, and an endorsement from Nixon only worked against their cause. Early attempts to establish a true identity with the media were brought to a halt by their publicists and record label. But before they were specifically coached by management on how to handle interviewers and questioning, the Carpenters gave several revealing interviews including one in 1970 with Chicago radio legend Dick Biondi. Religion, politics, and current affairs were discussed, and neither Carpenter held back.

  BIONDI: What are your feelings on the United States’ involvement in the Vietnam War?

  KAREN: Oh, I think I’d better let him steam first.

  RICHARD: I’m completely against it.

  KAREN: I think it’s a complete waste . . .

  RICHARD: First of all, nothing’s ever going to be settled. It’s like the Korean War. Nothing ever came to a complete end. It’s been bubbling over there ever since. That was never won or lost. It just sort of terminated. Nothing was ever settled, and this is never going to be settled because it’s not an all-out war. It’s an “involvement.” They don’t even call it a war.

  KAREN: They never even declared one. It’s ridiculous.

  RICHARD: And they’re over their piddling around. One cat shoots so many one day, and then they shoot back the next day. If you’re going to have a war, as much as I am against killing or anything like it, you ought to get in there and do it.

  On the subject of censorship, Karen explained she felt it could be “very confining. It can be very destructive.” Asked about her religious views she told Biondi, “I don’t need to go to church and listen to some preacher tell me what to believe in. I don’t dig that at all.” Richard expressed his disgust with the state of organized religion and called it “hypocrisy personified.”

  Although the interview was one of the first to allow the Carpenters the opportunity to voice their opinions on important and relevant topics, it would be the last. Their publicist was furious. “Most people were asking them about their songs and stuff, so I went into the drugs and Vietnam,” Biondi recalls. “I was very proud of myself because I could see their promotion man getting more and more upset.”

  According to Richard, following the Biondi interview, they were coached by the publicists to avoid controversial topics and anything not in keep
ing with the image prescribed for them. “We were told when you go out to do interviews, don’t say anything adverse about anything. Everything is groovy. Everything is terrific. Don’t say anything bad. Don’t say you dislike anything. You like everything. And we went along with it.”

  Meet the Carpenters—A&M Records’ young brother-sister hit-makers whose gentle harmony, wholesome image and natural, unpretentious personalities have virtually crashed through to make them the nation’s number one recording team. Their sonorous magic has endeared them to music fans of every age and taste, and may be marking the beginning of a new musical mood for the ’70s, bringing back the three H’s—hope, happiness and harmony. With soft-pedaled persistence and talent galore, these melodic siblings have revolutionized the music industry.

  It was through promotional blurbs such as this 1971 press release that A&M Records crafted their image of the Carpenters, and it quickly caught on. “Real nice American kids—in 1971!” wrote Stereo Review, saying they were “friendly people, outgoing, well-mannered, casually but tidily dressed, hard-working—and talented. No protest. No defiance. No porn. No blasphemy. No tripping.” And according to the Washington Post: “Karen may eat a peanut butter cup for quick energy, but not an amphetamine, and there are no groupies camped out in hotels where the Carpenters stay. Autograph hounds perhaps, but not groupies. ‘No,’ said Karen. ‘We don’t seem to attract that crowd.’”