Sweet Lorraine
"Nat"
An Orchestral Portrait Of Nat "King" Cole by Nelson Riddle
And His Orchestra
Produced by Sonny Burke
Art Direction: Ed Thrasher
Reprise STERE RS-6162
1965
From the back cover: One day in March, 1950, Carlos Gastel, an agent, called me and asked me to meet his client, Nat Cole, that night at a downtown Los Angeles club called Tiffany's to discuss the arrangements for a forthcoming recording session that Nat would be doing. My wife and I dutifully showed up and were ushered into a dimly lit room where Nat Cole and his trio were playing to a packed house.
At this time and place began a wonderful musical and personal relationship that was to last from "Mona Lisa," one of the songs we discussed that evening, to March 1960, when Nat and I recorded an album called "Wild Is Love." It seemed that every recording session that Nat and I did in that ten years had its hits: "Too Young," "Unforgettable," "Pretend," "Somewhere Along The Way," "Ballerian," and so on, until it seemed that as a team we could do no wrong. But most important, while welding this unbroken chain of successes, I came to know a wonderful, sensitive, and gifted artist, and a warm gentle human being.
It seemed to me that he stood for all that was clean and decent and yet, he did not build for himself a righteous pedestal on which to pose. Rather, he reminded me of one of my early dance band buddies: quick with jokes, always ready to laugh, and with an innate, colloquial humor that was charmingly extemporaneous. He could find a chuckle in least likely situations.
Nat loved all sports, especially baseball, and could tell you the life history of many of his favorite players, among them Warren Spahn, Hank Aaron, and Willie Mays, to name a few. His devotion to his family and his home was ever-present and unmistakable. He was immensely proud of his children, and spent as much time with them as his busy life as an entertainer would permit.
One of Nat's last commitments was as an actor in a picture called "Cat Ballou," filmed at Columibia Studios in the Summer of 1964, A young lady, Lucille DeLoach, met him by chance in the course of her duties in the Columbia Music Department. Actually, she was a fan of many years standing, having followed his career on records and television with great pleasure. But it was this chance meeting that inspired her to compose the following poem, presented here to in its entirety. It seems to express the deep affection and sense of loss felt by millions of people who knew him through his efforts in the entertainment field. I thought you'd like to read it for yourselves, perhaps with some of Nat's wonderful music as a background. – Sincerely, Nelson Riddle
"A Man That Passed Our Way"
A Certain glow has left this earth
And reached the great above...
Another star now lights the sky
In brightness of its love...
It leaves us with such sorrow,
This dark and saddened day...
But the world is so much richer
For his having passed our way...
The happiness he gave us,
Through his music and song...
The memory of his cheerful smile
Will linger on and on...
For this man was a giant,
In a world – sometimes so small...
It make me wish, with all my heart
I could be half as tall...
So sleep in peace, Dear Mr. Cole,
We weep for you, in prayer...
We ask that God watch over you,
In special loving care...
For there is a special place for you,
In the hearts of young and old...
But there will never be – for me,
Another Nat "King" Cole
Straighten Up And Fly Right
Too Young
It's Only A Paper Moon
Nature Boy
Walkin' My Baby Back Home
Mona Lisa
Night Lights
Pretend
Ballerina
Sweet Lorraine
Ramblin' Rose
The Christmas Song
These selections, with the exception of "Ramblin' Rose" are faithful reproductions of Nat Cole's arrangements, many of which I originally wrote myself. The piano soloist is Jimmy Rowles, a fine jazz pianist and friend of Nat's. The overall impression we have tried to create is that of Nat attending a rehearsal of his arrangements and, perhaps, sitting down at the piano and sketching out the vocal line with one finger – Nelson Riddle.
