Walter and Marion
Serenading Savannah
by request from Mark B.
These two street musicians, now
a part of the cultural landscape of
Savannah, perform on the same
Riverfront Plaza spot they adopted
long ago.
Every evening, barring heavy rain, extreme cold, or a paying gig elsewhere they anchor Savannah's Riverfront Plaza. They wail blues standards, harmonize on gospel songs, strut rhythm and blues, and belt out show tunes. The two musicians welcome one and all, then pass around the tip bucket.
They are The Serenaders: Walter Harris with his guitar, Marion May with his dancing shoes, both with strong voices and ready smiles. For eight years now, folks strolling to shops and restaurants along River Street have paused to hear Walter and Marion perform on the same spot.
"They tell me people can hear us all the way up at the swimming pool on top of the Hampton Inn," Walter says, eyeing a hotel above the steep grade between River Street and East Bay Street.
"I say, 'That's just fine, but tell
those folks to come down and
hear us up close.
Showmen, Tried and True
Merging diverse talents, the duo blends equal measures of Bohemian balladeer, old-time minstrel, angelic choirboy, not-quite-raunchy bluesman, and wistful folksinger.
Walter's style borrows from the troubadour mold. Perched on a wooden stool, he wears a colorful shirt and vest, slick slacks, bright red socks, and brown tassel loafers, the left foot tapping time and the right heel hooked over a low rung. His fingers fly over the strings of an acoustic guitar. When he sings high notes or interjects howls, whoops, and yips for emphasis, his face twists to one side like stretched elastic.
Marion's delivery reflects more of an old-time balladeer and soft-shoe dancer. He often wears all black, from top hat to snakeskin boots, or sports a shimmering gold shirt and a jaunty seaman's cap. His full, gray, wiry beard contrasts with the dark sunglasses that never seem to leave his face.
He begins some sets sitting quietly in a folding chair, as still as a mannequin, while Walter tunes up and starts the first song. Then he startles unsuspecting listeners by suddenly adding his booming baritone harmony to the chorus.
Friends on the Street
Walter describes how the two Savannah natives, separated in age by 12 years, met. "Marion's mother, Evelyn May, was my English teacher in high school. She got us to do a gig her church put on at a military base. We've been working together 15 years, the last 8 out here on River Street."
Today the tools of their trade include stools, a guitar, water bottles, a tip bucket, and comfortable shoes. "I have a lot of shoes," says Marion, "and they've all got to have good heels for tapping 'cause I wear 'em out!"
Where Ya From?
Between songs, the singers ask people in the constantly shifting audience, "Where ya from?" Then they dive into an appropriate song. "People come here from all over the country, all over the world," Marion says. "We were written up in a Swedish magazine once, and a cable channel from Germany taped a piece on us. After that, people from those places would start showing up, telling us that's how they first heard about us."
Couples celebrating anniversaries spark a medley that uses all of The Serenaders' vocal talents. A couple's blushing kiss at the end is as inevitable as Marion's big finish as he drops to one knee and spreads his arms wide.
They take requests for Otis Redding and Johnny Mercer songs, for Motown and rhythm and blues standards, and for gospel hymns, which inspire choir members in the crowd to sing along. Regulars ask for original tunes, such as "Lend a Helping Hand," Walter's anthem to peace and love.
"We meet all kinds of people," Walter says, "Families with kids they wouldn't think of taking into the bars down here come out to listen after eating dinner in the restaurants or looking through the different shops.
"It's funny," he continues, "We'll get a busload of church people on one side and rowdies from the bars on the other, all enjoying the music, requesting songs, dancing, and getting along fine. There's hardly ever a problem. Maybe a heckler, now and then. One guy tried to run off with our tip bucket, but he didn't get far. The police know us and keep an eye out. A couple of restaurants even fix us up with warm drinks in the cold weather."
Thank You, Thank You
At the end of each song, Marion drawls his catchphrase, "Thank you, thank you. Welcome to Savannah, the Hostess City of the South." It's a line he delivers more often than any tour operator in town. He passes the tip bucket - a plastic tub, sometimes nestled in a frayed wicker basket - and thanks every contributor.
"We like coming down here and being with the people on River Street," Marion says with a smile. "We've been coming down so long, it's our home away from home." Article courtesy of Southern Living
_______________________________
Don't Roll Your Bloodshot Eyes at Me
Written by Ruth Hall/Hank Penny
Now just because you`re pretty
And you think you`re mighty wise,
You tell me that you love me,
Then you roll those big blue eyes;
When I saw you last week
Your eyes were turning black,
Go find the guy that beat you up,
Ask him to take you back.
Don`t roll those bloodshot eyes at me.
I can tell you`ve been out on a spree.
It`s plain that you are lying
When you say you`ve been crying,
So don`t roll those bloodshot eyes at me.
I used to spend my money
To make you look real sweet,
I wanted to be proud of you
When we walked down the street,
Now don`t ask me to dress you up
In satins and silk,
Your eyes look like two cherries
In a glass of buttermilk.
Don`t roll those bloodshot eyes at me.
I can tell you`ve been out on a spree.
It`s plain that you are lying
When you say you`ve been crying,
So don`t roll those bloodshot eyes at me.
I guess our little romance
Has fin`ly simmered down,
You should join a circus -
You`d make a real good clown,
Your eyes look like a road map
And i`m scared to smll your breath,
You`d better shut your peepers
Before you bleed to death.
Don`t roll those bloodshot eyes at me.
I can tell you`ve been out on a spree.
It`s plain that you are lying
When you say you`ve been crying,
So don`t roll those bloodshot eyes at me
