Read an Excerpt

THE BIRTH OF A SONG

The question I have been asked most frequently throughout the six decades of my songwriting career is “What comes first, the words or the music?” The answer invariably is “Neither.” The mark of a good song is most definitely born from a third ingredient: the idea.

Ideas are formed from everyday life. Loss, love, doubt, regret, funny or sad situations, flashes of wit or wisdom—all can trigger song ideas. But many of the best song ideas are derived from the inspiration a good story can evoke. In the case of the Sherman brothers, many of our best songs were sparked by the characters and adventures we found in The Jungle Book, Tom Sawyer, Charlotte’s Web, Winnie the Pooh, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and, of course, Mary Poppins. However, each of those songs is part of a larger entity, a song score, created to help tell a particular story.

The independent or popular song is an orphan, derived from and related to nothing but itself. Songwriters are always on the alert for a good idea or a “hook” to inspire their music and lyrics. Sometimes a hook just drops into your lap. But sometimes that great idea can take half a century to emerge.

I vividly recall a lovely spring evening in 1963. At that time, my brother Robert and I were enjoying our third year as Walt Disney’s staff songwriters. My wife, Elizabeth, and I had spent the entire day taking in the fabulous sights, sounds, and experiences of Disneyland. We had lingered long after most of the day’s guests had departed when I noticed a lone figure slowly strolling down Main Street, looking in the storefront windows. That lone figure was Walt Disney.

I told my wife I wanted to let the boss know how much we loved our day at his park. Walt approached us with a smile, saying, “Hello, Richard. Shouldn’t you be on your way home by now?” I said, “Walt, we just had to thank you for the most wonderful time today. In fact, when the fireworks started and the music was playing and Tinker Bell flew across the sky, I was so overcome with happy emotions that I was crying.” Walt looked me straight in the eye and with a little smile said, “You know, I do that every time. . . . Now drive home carefully.” With a fond wink, Walt headed for his apartment above the fire station. 

Over half a century later, I was asked to participate in the Diamond Jubilee, a project for Disneyland’s sixtieth anniversary. It was then I learned the little-known story about the park fireworks that have been enchanting millions of Disneyland guests for decades.

As a little boy in Marceline, Missouri, Walt rarely, if ever, had money for toys or amusements. But every Fourth of July, he’d burst with joy, because he could see free fireworks shows all over town. The brilliant colors and patterns of the explosions always triggered his fertile imagination and inspired his boundless creativity. Years later, when Walt and his Imagineers were completing Disneyland, he wanted to say thank you to all his guests when they left the park. His gratitude would come in the form of free fireworks (with the added touches of music and a flying Tinker Bell). He referred to this as “a kiss goodnight.”

Now, there’s an idea for a song! And what a hook! I immediately pictured that little boy who became the greatest entrepreneur of the twentieth century, that same great man who winked at me one night at Disneyland. I just had to write this song. I had to express how I imagined a young Walt was feeling as he watched magic dancing in the sky.

Walt Disney’s limitless ambition, his incredible storytelling talents, and, above all, his love for all mankind continue to inspire, entertain, and educate millions upon millions of people throughout the world. I’m certain his great legacy will live on throughout time. But I think it’s especially wonderful to remember that a poor little boy in Missouri, one century ago, dreamed big dreams. And when one of his greatest dreams, Disneyland, became a reality, he simply wished to thank all his guests for coming with “a kiss goodnight.”
—Richard M. Sherman

. . .

THE STORY

Long ago, there was a farm in Missouri . . . 
where there were always chores to be done. 
There was a six-year-old boy whosaw what others didn’t see. 
He was a poor boy who waited for one special evening every year, when his magicaldreams seemed to ignite the sky—in theFourth of July fireworks. 
To him, it was the perfect kiss goodnight. . . .