Harry Woods, born in 1896, could attribute much of his success in the music business to his mother’s guidance and encouragement. Born without fingers on his left hand, his mother, herself an accomplished singer, encouraged Harry to learn to play the piano, and he developed his incredible talent covering much of the keyboard with his right hand, while hammering out a bass rhythm with his deformed left hand.
Harry was so successful as a piano player and vocalist that he put himself through Harvard singing in choirs and hiring himself out as a musician in various groups and bands. When he was drafted into WWI, despite his handicap, he began to write music in his free time. Once the war ended he moved to New York City and began to make a living as a songwriter, crafting dozens of great Tin-Pan Alley and depression-era hits, such as “I’m Looking Over a Four-leaf Clover,” “Paddlin’ Madeleine Home,” “When the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob-bob-bobbin’ Along,” and “Side by Side.”
Because of his malformed left hand, because of being drafted into “the war to end all wars,” because of the difficult economic times he lived through, Harry Woods had plenty of reasons to be down, to wonder, “why me?”, but he chose to adopt a life philosophy that accepted the hard things life seemed to toss his way, and reached out with his music to lift up and encourage those around him, living through many of the same difficult circumstances.
One of my favorite Harry Woods’ songs is “Try a Little Tenderness,” published in 1932, and covered by many greats, including Otis Redding and Three Dog Night. I don’t know, but I imagine that through the post-war years and the Great Depression, Woods must have felt tremendous compassion for the wives and girlfriends also affected by those tough economic times. In the lyrics, Woods urges men, husbands, boyfriends, fathers, brothers, to be gentle with the women in their lives:
She may be weary, women do get weary, wearing the same shabby dress,
And when she’s weary, try a little tenderness.
You know she’s waiting, just anticipating, things she may never possess,
While she’s without them, try a little tenderness.
It’s not just sentimental, she has her grief and care, and a word that’s soft and gentle,
Makes it easier to bear.
You won’t regret it. Women don’t forget it. Love is their whole happiness.
It’s all so easy.
Try a little tenderness.
It’s really good advice for all of us. As the saying goes, we should be kind to everyone we meet because we never know what kind of battle each one is facing. It’s not easy, waking up each day to look for joy. Some days it just seems more and more elusive, and the smiles do not come as easily. The light itself is so dim it is more discouraging to seek and see it than it is to just stare into the darkness. It is so tempting to give up hope in some circumstances, to snarl back, to growl, to snap in self-defense.
So what do we do? We try a little tenderness, with ourselves, with others. In my last post I wrote about forgiveness. It is so much easier to write about than to offer sometimes, and often it is most difficult to extend it to ourselves and accept it.
Whatever your situation today, whether the sun is shining brightly for you, or if you’re in a deep, dark cavern with no visible way out, try a little tenderness, with yourself and whoever might be there beside you. If what you’ve been doing is taking you along a joyful path, be sure to speak tenderly to those along the way who don’t seem to be making forward progress. You may just shine a little hope and light on the route that helps them get moving again. If what you’ve been doing has your wheels spinning, maybe it’s time for a little tenderness. Remember, “a word that’s soft and gentle makes it easier to bear.”
Thanks Harry…I needed that.