FIRST PERSON

Finding songs was always a challenge because, well, there’s a lot of bad Christmas music out there. I was seeking nicely done covers of standards but also novelties, blues, jazz, rock, and soul from the 1950s and ‘60s.

With its various lists, Dave Marsh and Steve Propes’ book “Merry Christmas, Baby: Holiday Music From Bing to Sting” (1993) provided some good ideas as well as a title. Not too many years later, though, I was running out of ideas.

I went to used-record stores and record conventions, got on mailing lists of used-record dealers, and scoured online sites offering used records.

I eventually subscribed to Goldmine, a publication for record collectors, and placed a recurring ad indicating that I was looking for 45-rpm records of Christmas music from the ‘50s and ‘60s. Collectors from around the country responded with ideas and material that interested me. I bought records from some of them, and We invite readers of all ages to submit a personal essay of musings or reflections for First Person. The guidelines:

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others would go so far as to send taped copies of records they didn’t want to sell.

At one point, I received an email message from a collector in New York who said, “You don’t happen to be one of those people who puts together Christmas comps?” Thus began an exchange of Christmas compilations that has continued for almost 20 years.

In time, I began trading comps with several other collectors, too. These

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A submission used becomes the property of The Dispatch; it cannot be reproduced elsewhere without our permission. similarly minded holidaymusic nuts have helped me locate records I never imagined finding, such as “I Was a Teenage Reindeer” by Jim Backus and Daws Butler.

This year marks the 25th for “Merry Christmas, Baby,” and I don’t think I’ve ever repeated a song by the same artist.

Finding good material, of course, has become increasingly difficult, so the hunt is beginning to wear me down. In recent years, I’ve taken

to pirating songs from the comps that other collectors send each year, so “Merry Christmas, Baby” has begun to resemble a Christmasmusic chain letter.

One part of the story stands out in my mind.

Growing up in Cincinnati in the ‘50s and ‘60s, my wife and her siblings were fond of the album “Echoes of Christmas,” by pianist George Feyer. She still had the record, but it was virtually unplayable because of years of abuse.

While visiting my parents at their home in Los Angeles one year, I was rummaging through some old LPs they had in an old, monstrous stereo cabinet. To my surprise, I pulled out “Echoes of Christmas.”

When I flipped the album over, I was even more stunned by some writing on the border: “To Martha and Phil DiBartola — with best wishes. George Feyer.” What? My parents, in their 80s then, had absolutely no memory of how they obtained the record. The LP apparently had rarely been played; it was in pristine condition.

But the autograph?

After doing a little research online, I found that Feyer was a Hungarian musician who immigrated to the United States, settling in New York in 1951. Four years later, he began a longrunning gig at New York’s Carlyle Hotel. My father had been an executive with Lever Bros. in New York in 195960, so perhaps the company hosted a party at the Carlyle one Christmas and the signed album came into my parents’ possession then.

I ended up including Feyer’s spirited instrumental rendition of “Sleigh Ride” on the 2004 edition of “Merry Christmas, Baby.”

I might have to retire my Christmas project, but it has served its purpose well, as I have come to enjoy the holiday season with family and friends.

As Dickens said about one of his most famous characters: “... it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!”