It was a cold winter evening in December, 1943. With the war behind them, Ralph Blane and Hugh Martin sat together in an abandoned studio. Hugh, as was his custom, sat at the piano, fumbling through chord progressions, and filling the cold spaces with hints of melody. Ralph scribbled on a note pad, tilted his head, frowned, and then tore up the sheet before throwing it to the ground. The space around his chair was littered with such bunches of paper.
“This is ridiculous,” Ralph complained. “The night before Christmas, and we have a deadline. Write a new song by tomorrow!” Continue reading “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”