That
we could skip this Christmas season,
There
being no great cause for mirth
And
precious little peace on earth.
Not
me. I'm sorry, but I'll keep Yule
With
any kindred spirit who'll
Accompany
me in a Christmas caper,
So
how's about it, Muriel Draper?”—Frank Sullivan, “Greetings, Friends!”, in The New Yorker, Dec. 23, 1939
“Greetings,
Friends!” is a New Yorker tradition
that began in 1935. Frank Sullivan, who started and maintained it for the next
four decades, was, recalled his longtime editor Roger Angell in an interview with Jenna Krajeski eight years ago, not only one of the magazine’s early humor writers, but also “a famously
charming and sociable guy” who often listed friends like the Marx Brothers and John O'Hara in these holiday
verses. At its best, whether under Sullivan or the successors who carried on
the tradition, Angell and, more recently, Ian Frazier, these Yuletide light
verses still contain the same verve.
At
one point or another, many of us have found “no great cause for mirth”
anywhere, either in our personal lives or in the wider world. But back in 1939,
this may have been even truer, what with a Great Depression not really shed yet
(the economy had experienced another downturn in 1937-38) and, of course, war breaking
out beyond the shores of North America. Even so, Sullivan found reason to
rejoice—and so, in our own dark time, should we.
(By
the way: If, like me, you may have wondered about Sullivan’s Muriel Draper
reference, she was a society hostess, arts aficionado, decorator, and writer
prominent in the Harlem Renaissance.)
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