BJ: Again? Colonel there's gotta be something special about that record for you.
COL. POTTER: Yeah, there is, but I don't know if I should tell you boys.
HAWKEYE: Oh, come on, Daddy. We want a story.
COL. POTTER: Well, every time I hear that song - it reminds me of a very special young lady. - Mildred? - No, after Mildred.
HAWKEYE and BJ: Oh-ho!
COL. POTTER: Happened about a dozen years ago when I was stationed at Fort Dix. One night, some of the boys and I went up to New York to hear Les Brown and His Band of Renown. Well, I was sort of just lookin' around when suddenly, walkin' across the dance floor there she was, this willowy blonde beauty. I was in love. Well, the band started playing. The vocalist started singing "Sentimental Journey." I looked up to see that I had fallen in love with Doris Day. I'm glad Mildred wasn't there. I couldn't have handled it. I have never taken her to a Doris Day movie. I've seen 'em all alone. Sometimes I feel bad that Mildred doesn't know. But then I remember, Doris doesn't know either.
Now, I’m not in love with Doris Day. But Col. Potter’s story from “Your Hit Parade,” an episode of MASH, shows Day’s impact not only on people, but on popular culture. She was big. Very big. More than 600 songs and 40 movies big.
I’m not sure I’ve seen one of her pictures all the way through. They’re a bit before my time. You’d think the music would be too, but my mother loved Doris Day. She sang sometimes along with her. I remember in particular Mom singing “Sentimental Journey” along with Mrs. Day, described by Les Brown, bandleader with whom Day made it big: “I’d say that next to Sinatra, Doris is the best in the business on selling a lyric.”
Ignatius Riley likely saw some or most of her movies, and relished them secretly while reviling them publicly – and loudly enough to get thrown out of the Prytania Theater in John Kennedy Toole’s “Confederacy of Dunces.”
“Good grief. Is this smut supposed to be comedy?" Ignatius demanded in the darkness. "I have not laughed once. My eyes can hardly believe this highly discolored garbage. That woman must be lashed until she drops. She is undermining our civilization. […] Please! Someone with some decency get to the fuse box. Hundreds of people in this theater are being demoralized."
More evidence of Doris Day’s cultural power.
I love her songs. Maybe they’re sugary. Maybe they hark back to an era when the United States had problems. Though you could very well say the same of contemporary musicians.
And yet she sang without Autotune. And with power. Unlike many of today’s singers. Her songs are of an era that likely can’t come back, because singing like what she did just doesn’t happen today, unless it’s campy or retro or whatever. We may have love songs, songs of unrequited love and such today, but none of them are sung by the likes of Doris Day.
And I have to confess: I didn’t realize she was still alive until news of her passing came today.
Maybe she’s singing in heaven now. Surely, she has fans there.
Of all of her songs, this is the one I remember most, some from the radio, some from Mom singing along:
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