(This piece was first published 10 years ago. In a year when the Vulgarian in Chief turned the White House lawn unto his version of the Roman Coliseum, complete with bloody gladiators, we need to search for relief wherever we can.)
By Patrick F. Cannon
My contention that Fred Astaire was one of greatest singers of popular song of his era – hell, of any era – is often met with incomprehension or bemusement. Surely, people think, you mean one of the great dancers? That’s, of course, if they have any real idea of who he was in the first place. Like so many artists of even the day before yesterday, he has faded into the mists of entertainment history.
A case in point: I give tours at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Home & Studio in Oak Park, and mention that the actress Anne Baxter was Wright’s granddaughter. Most of the 15 or so people on the tour don’t have a clue who she was, since her heyday was in the 40s, 50s and 60s. The exceptions would be people older than 70 and cinema nuts. While Fred Astaire had a much higher status and fame than her, he is just as dead for most young people.
Yet, he deserves their attention. In an age of increasing and unceasing vulgarity, he might offer an oasis of grace and elegance. Even his walk was worth watching. In one of his best musicals – and one of the best of all movie musicals – The Band Wagon, he has arrived in New York on the 20th Century Limited. He is a Hollywood star whose career is in decline, and he has taken a role in a new Broadway musical. On the train, he meets Ava Gardener, playing herself. They chat a bit, but when they get off the train at Grand Central Station, reporters and photographers mob her, while poor Fred is ignored.
Alone, he begins walking to the terminal, while singing “I’ll go my way, by myself…” I urge you to go Google these opening lyrics, which should lead you to an outtake from the movie. Notice how Fred’s walk is gracefully attuned to the music, how this simple act becomes imbued with meaning and emotion. Notice also how beautifully the song is sung, how each word is presented clearly for your consideration.
Two of the greatest composers of American song of the 20th Century – really of all time – Irving Berlin and George Gershwin both were quoted as saying that they preferred Fred above all others to sing their songs. Why? Because they could count on him to sing the song as written, to annunciate the words clearly, and to be in tune and on pitch. I should also mention that the late great Tony Bennett many years ago mentioned Fred as one of his inspirations.
I have a CD of some of his greatest songs. I keep it in my car and play it often. Like Bach’s Goldberg Variations, I never tire of listening to it. If you don’t know Fred as a great singer, I’m sure you would be able to find albums on Amazon or any of a number of music sites that would convince you. While we all should keep up with contemporary music (selectively!), we should also find time to honor the great art of the past.
Finally, if you get a chance to watch any of his movies, you’ll discover that he could dance a little, too.
Copyright 2016, 2026, Patrick F. Cannon
cannonnadedotcom 
No doubt about it, Fred Astaire was impeccable, in his dancing and singing.
You could argue that his voice lacked range of emotion, but like his dance numbers, his singing centered on the essential.
He carefully rehearsed everything. There was nothing excessive or accidental about his performances.
Frederick Austerlich was born in Omaha to an Austrian father and German mother.
His dancing and to an extent singing were American and typically innovative, but his cultural roots were European and formal.
Whereas his dancing partners (except ballet dancer Cyd Charisse) often performed with an air of spontaneity (especially Brooklyn gal Rita Hayworth!), Fred was spirited but always measured. He’s classical and all class.
I admire his singing but I find it too neat, too proper. It’s precise but lacks color. It’s not as expressive as his dancing.
Hollywood stars of the era could act, sing and dance. Gene Kelly is a good example of a multi-talented dancer like Astaire, but is hardly remembered for his singing, even if he could do it in the rain.
There’s no accounting for taste, of course. Even the Romans knew de gustibus non est disputandem.
Which brings us to the toxic masculinity of the White Houses’s present tenant who seems to love all things gold and grandiose, to the horror of Manhattan’s Upper West Side, the arbiters of all things great and good.
I suppose cage fighting on the White House lawn is an improvement over topless trans women (in case we forget: https://youtu.be/vNTUE8CccsM?si=u0mFhwj7fsp73Fkv). At least it’s wholesome!
But we have discriminating tastes — in art, music, literature, food — that many might regard as elitist. I don’t care much for wrestling, country music or Big Macs. And when I dress in business suits, I never would have even think of wearing a solid red necktie, anymore than one with a phallus on it.
What can you expect from a president who loves attention?
Let’s face it, there is no correlation between refined culture and politics. The Germans of the last century had exquisite taste. And if good government were measured by art and style, Italy would have a model government!
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Vulgarity and all, he’s made a lot of dough for himself and his family. I remember the real Mayor Daley responding to complaints that the city was giving insurance business to one of his sons: “If you can’t help your children, who should you help!”
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Yeah, I agree. He’s entitled to his business and can’t be expected to shut everything down while he’s in office. But it’s not a good look, even if almost common practice in Washington nowadays. A lot of his MAGA supporters aren’t happy about it. I guess telling the press and his adversaries to go ahead and sue him is one of the benefits of being a lame duck, but it will hurt Republicans in the midterms and beyond. Daley and sons of course cashed in. In the words of godfathers everywhere, Daley included, you gotta be loyal to the family!
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