Rick Long's Stories
October 25, 2005
If I Didn’t Care
By Rick Long
My favorite way to spend a Saturday afternoon in California is slinging one of my motorcycles up Highway 38
toward the small mountain community called Big Bear. Twisty corners and beautiful landscapes fly by as all my
cares of the past week go the way of the wind. On a recent Saturday, family responsibilities kept me from my
usual route.
My mother-in-law had called. “We’re having a birthday party this weekend for my best friend. Sheâ
€™s going to be 80 years old. Someone is going to sing for us with a Karaoke machine and he’s 79. I just
know you’ll have a good time.�
Oh joy. If you want to inflict fear and loathing into a life-long semi-pro musician, mention the word Karaoke.
This type of event often borders on the intolerable and is mostly fraught with warbling voices singing so far off
key as to be likened to chalk screeching across a blackboard. The birthday girl has been a good friend to my
mother-in-law so I’ll go peaceably. If I don’t get food poisoning and die from the finger sandwiches
maybe I’ll get lucky and choke on the cake.
Saturday afternoon arrives. With card in hand and wife in tow, I make my way to the party. A group of about
40 friends and family, some from distant states, are in attendance. After a stroll through the buffet line and a few
minutes of pleasant conversation with people at surrounding tables, an elderly black gentleman in a tailored grey
suit wearing a stunning diamond ring stands up at the microphone.
“Uh oh,� I thought to myself. “Here we go.�
The gentleman speaks with a silky voice. “I’d like to wish our birthday girl a happy 80th with songs she
might remember from a few years back. I’m not going to use the microphone though. I’m going to
wander through this lovely audience and sing a bit for each one of you.�
“Oh no,� I thought. “This could get ugly fast. Maybe I can sneak out after he starts and hide in the
rest room until it’s over.� And at that point he begins to sing these words:
If I didn't care more than words can say
If I didn't care would I feel this way?
If this isn't love then why do I thrill?
And what makes my head go 'round and 'round
While my heart stands still?
Wait a minute. Something’s going on here. This guy sounds good! His tone is full and rich. His pitch is spot
on. The birthday girl is starting to get misty-eyed now as he sings right in front of her. Who is this guy? He goes
on:
If I didn't care would it be the same?
Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?
And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?
Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?
The song, “If I Didn’t Care,� was a big hit in the late 1930’s for a group called the Ink Spots.
As it turns out, our singer at the party today is Arthur Rand, who joined that group in the 1940’s as a
replacement for one of the original members. He is one of two living members of the Ink Spots and owns the
rights to the group’s name and music. He still performs at oldies concerts and special events with the other
Ink Spot, who is 94, but for less money than you would imagine, will drop by and sing at a local birthday party.
Now he starts another song:
We three, we're all alone
Living in a mem-o-ry
My echo, my shadow, and me
We three, we're not a crowd
We're not even company
My echo, my shadow, and me
What good is the moonlight
The silvery moonlight that shines above?
I walk with my shadow
I talk with my echo
But where is the one I love?
We three, we'll wait for you
Even till eter-ni-ty
My echo, my shadow, and me
I look around the room and there isn’t a dry female eye in the house. The guys aren’t crying but you
know they would if they weren’t trying to be macho. They remember listening to these songs on vinyl
records, the car radio, or a jukebox at the drive-in during their younger days. I must admit that I remember
spending a little time myself listening to the Ink Spots from the back of a Buick exploring Anatomy 101 with a
young study partner.
Arthur makes the rounds to every table and creates a special moment for each person. Most of the women get
a kiss on the check. The men get a pat on the shoulder. No one will leave today untouched by this beautiful
voice and his gentle soul.
The musical styles called Rhythm & Blues and Doo Wop, owe their soul, so to speak, to Gospel music. Arthur
understands this link and finishes his program with several verses of Amazing Grace:
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found,
Was blind but now I see.
T'was grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fear relieved
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
We have already come
T'was grace that brought us safe thus far
And grace will lead us home.
I’ve never met a happier senior citizen than Arthur Rand. He and I talk music for quite a while this day. He
will tell you stories about the Ink Spots with a gleam in his eye that speaks of the joy he holds for life and for the
songs he sings.
One story involves early copyright laws, or the lack thereof. An autograph line forms quickly after his
performance and one woman approaches him holding an LP record entitled “Stanley Moore’s Ink
Spots in London.� He signs the cover as she requests, then leans over to me and explains that her record is
from a different Ink Spots!
“Stanley Moore was hired during World War II to replace a member who had been drafted. After the war,
that member returned and Stanley was let go. He liked the music and didn’t want to stop singing it so he
moved to London and started another Ink Spots without us knowing about it.�
Arthur doesn’t mind signing her record. “She wouldn’t understand so I don’t try to explain.�
After all, he understands that it really doesn’t matter. She’s happy to have his autograph and he’s
having a good day too.
Another story involves the rather large diamond ring he’s wearing. He tells me that the ring is from “back
in the day.� Each member of the Ink Spots wore one of these rings and as Arthur explains, “We only
used one microphone and if you were on the right side of that microphone, you wore the ring on your right hand
and if you were on the left, then you wore it on your left hand.â€� It was important, even back then, to â
€œfling the bling.â€�
There is something sweet and innocent about the music of that time. It fits well with an older crowd, a crowd
that I am coming closer to joining every year. Much of today’s music just isn’t the same. I don’t
think you will ever hear elderly members of the Bloodhound Gang singing their big hit at a birthday party for an
80 year old:
You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals
So let''s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel
No, no, no. This will never do. Even Rod Stewart, one of the most recognizable voices of rock in the 1970â
€™s and 80’s, is now singing the timeless standards that Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, and others made
famous so long ago. The old songs fit an outlook and sentimentality that comes with a certain age and stage of
life that, God willing, we will all reach someday. I took a major step closer to that day at a Saturday afternoon
birthday party listening to Arthur Rand sing the hits of the Ink Spots.
On the next Saturday that I get to ride a motorcycle, you just might find me twisting the throttle a little more
slowly, still headed toward Big Bear, but with the echo of the Ink Spots filling my helmet, the shadow of the
bike on the pavement, and me at the helm.
By Rick Long
My favorite way to spend a Saturday afternoon in California is slinging one of my motorcycles up Highway 38
toward the small mountain community called Big Bear. Twisty corners and beautiful landscapes fly by as all my
cares of the past week go the way of the wind. On a recent Saturday, family responsibilities kept me from my
usual route.
My mother-in-law had called. “We’re having a birthday party this weekend for my best friend. Sheâ
€™s going to be 80 years old. Someone is going to sing for us with a Karaoke machine and he’s 79. I just
know you’ll have a good time.�
Oh joy. If you want to inflict fear and loathing into a life-long semi-pro musician, mention the word Karaoke.
This type of event often borders on the intolerable and is mostly fraught with warbling voices singing so far off
key as to be likened to chalk screeching across a blackboard. The birthday girl has been a good friend to my
mother-in-law so I’ll go peaceably. If I don’t get food poisoning and die from the finger sandwiches
maybe I’ll get lucky and choke on the cake.
Saturday afternoon arrives. With card in hand and wife in tow, I make my way to the party. A group of about
40 friends and family, some from distant states, are in attendance. After a stroll through the buffet line and a few
minutes of pleasant conversation with people at surrounding tables, an elderly black gentleman in a tailored grey
suit wearing a stunning diamond ring stands up at the microphone.
“Uh oh,� I thought to myself. “Here we go.�
The gentleman speaks with a silky voice. “I’d like to wish our birthday girl a happy 80th with songs she
might remember from a few years back. I’m not going to use the microphone though. I’m going to
wander through this lovely audience and sing a bit for each one of you.�
“Oh no,� I thought. “This could get ugly fast. Maybe I can sneak out after he starts and hide in the
rest room until it’s over.� And at that point he begins to sing these words:
If I didn't care more than words can say
If I didn't care would I feel this way?
If this isn't love then why do I thrill?
And what makes my head go 'round and 'round
While my heart stands still?
Wait a minute. Something’s going on here. This guy sounds good! His tone is full and rich. His pitch is spot
on. The birthday girl is starting to get misty-eyed now as he sings right in front of her. Who is this guy? He goes
on:
If I didn't care would it be the same?
Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?
And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?
Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?
The song, “If I Didn’t Care,� was a big hit in the late 1930’s for a group called the Ink Spots.
As it turns out, our singer at the party today is Arthur Rand, who joined that group in the 1940’s as a
replacement for one of the original members. He is one of two living members of the Ink Spots and owns the
rights to the group’s name and music. He still performs at oldies concerts and special events with the other
Ink Spot, who is 94, but for less money than you would imagine, will drop by and sing at a local birthday party.
Now he starts another song:
We three, we're all alone
Living in a mem-o-ry
My echo, my shadow, and me
We three, we're not a crowd
We're not even company
My echo, my shadow, and me
What good is the moonlight
The silvery moonlight that shines above?
I walk with my shadow
I talk with my echo
But where is the one I love?
We three, we'll wait for you
Even till eter-ni-ty
My echo, my shadow, and me
I look around the room and there isn’t a dry female eye in the house. The guys aren’t crying but you
know they would if they weren’t trying to be macho. They remember listening to these songs on vinyl
records, the car radio, or a jukebox at the drive-in during their younger days. I must admit that I remember
spending a little time myself listening to the Ink Spots from the back of a Buick exploring Anatomy 101 with a
young study partner.
Arthur makes the rounds to every table and creates a special moment for each person. Most of the women get
a kiss on the check. The men get a pat on the shoulder. No one will leave today untouched by this beautiful
voice and his gentle soul.
The musical styles called Rhythm & Blues and Doo Wop, owe their soul, so to speak, to Gospel music. Arthur
understands this link and finishes his program with several verses of Amazing Grace:
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found,
Was blind but now I see.
T'was grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fear relieved
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
We have already come
T'was grace that brought us safe thus far
And grace will lead us home.
I’ve never met a happier senior citizen than Arthur Rand. He and I talk music for quite a while this day. He
will tell you stories about the Ink Spots with a gleam in his eye that speaks of the joy he holds for life and for the
songs he sings.
One story involves early copyright laws, or the lack thereof. An autograph line forms quickly after his
performance and one woman approaches him holding an LP record entitled “Stanley Moore’s Ink
Spots in London.� He signs the cover as she requests, then leans over to me and explains that her record is
from a different Ink Spots!
“Stanley Moore was hired during World War II to replace a member who had been drafted. After the war,
that member returned and Stanley was let go. He liked the music and didn’t want to stop singing it so he
moved to London and started another Ink Spots without us knowing about it.�
Arthur doesn’t mind signing her record. “She wouldn’t understand so I don’t try to explain.�
After all, he understands that it really doesn’t matter. She’s happy to have his autograph and he’s
having a good day too.
Another story involves the rather large diamond ring he’s wearing. He tells me that the ring is from “back
in the day.� Each member of the Ink Spots wore one of these rings and as Arthur explains, “We only
used one microphone and if you were on the right side of that microphone, you wore the ring on your right hand
and if you were on the left, then you wore it on your left hand.â€� It was important, even back then, to â
€œfling the bling.â€�
There is something sweet and innocent about the music of that time. It fits well with an older crowd, a crowd
that I am coming closer to joining every year. Much of today’s music just isn’t the same. I don’t
think you will ever hear elderly members of the Bloodhound Gang singing their big hit at a birthday party for an
80 year old:
You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals
So let''s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel
No, no, no. This will never do. Even Rod Stewart, one of the most recognizable voices of rock in the 1970â
€™s and 80’s, is now singing the timeless standards that Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, and others made
famous so long ago. The old songs fit an outlook and sentimentality that comes with a certain age and stage of
life that, God willing, we will all reach someday. I took a major step closer to that day at a Saturday afternoon
birthday party listening to Arthur Rand sing the hits of the Ink Spots.
On the next Saturday that I get to ride a motorcycle, you just might find me twisting the throttle a little more
slowly, still headed toward Big Bear, but with the echo of the Ink Spots filling my helmet, the shadow of the
bike on the pavement, and me at the helm.