It’s A Shame That Sham Isn’t In Hall

Where is the plaque in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?

Where, I ask, is the Grammy Award for Lifetime Achievement?

Where, I want to know, is the National Medal of the Arts, supposedly draped around the necks of our greatest musical artistes, yet which to its shame has never graced the neck or the ankle or any other bodily part of THE greatest singer-songwriter of all time? I refer, of course, to Domingo Samudio.

Domingo Spam-who?

I’m sorry, you probably know him by his stage name, Sam the Sham. He was the leader of Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, one of the most influential musical acts in that creative ferment known as the ‘60s. Domingo Samudio is the man who wrote and sang such classics as, “Li’l Red Riding Hood,” “The Hair on My Chinny Chin Chin,” “Ring Dang Doo,” “Ju Ju Hand,” and of course the song that at least one national music critic has declared The Best Song of All Time, 1965’s “Wooly Bully.”

What? Which national music critic ever declared “Wooly Bully” to be the Best Song of All Time, or even the Best Song of All Week?

I happen to be that critic. I am qualified to be called a music critic because I often sit around and criticize music, and I do so within the confines of our great nation, which makes me national.

Yet I do not lightly bestow this honor upon “Wooly Bully.” I have my reasons:

The depth of its lyrics. Many people don’t realize the moving nature of the poetry in “Wooly Bully,” probably because the way Sam the Sham enunciates, the lyrics sound something like, “Matador Sally put the table saw and tuba horns in a wooly jar.” However, I happen to have a lyric sheet revealing the true lyrics, which are much more pungent and to the point: “Matty told Hatty, about the thing she saw, had two big horns, and a wooly jaw.”

Thus, the scholar can easily deduce that “Wooly Bully” is, literally, about a mastodon sighting. One can also deduce the deeper poetic meaning, which is about the sacred inner quest we all must undertake to discover our own personal Snuffleupagus.

The recurring symbolism. Not content to write a simple “pop” song, Domingo Samudio sprinkled this song with powerful images, especially the “wool” motif. Scholars have puzzled for decades over the hidden meaning of the following passage: “Matty told Hatty, that’s the thing to do, get yo’ someone really, to pull the wool with you.”

Pull the wool? Does this refer to “pulling the wool over one’s eyes”? Could it be a historical reference to the ancient weavers’ practice of spinning and carding wool? Debate rages, but I am convinced that Matty is actually urging Hatty to go into partnership on a sheep farm.

The contribution to bilingualism. Sam the Sham begins this song by shouting, “Uno, dos … one, two, tres quatro!” thus presaging the coming cultural revolution which would culminate in “Sesame Street.”

The contribution to the English language. By singing, “Let’s not be L-7, come and learn to dance,” Sam the Sham was the first to introduce the phrase “L-7” into the English lexicon as a visual-verbal symbol for square. Of course, the way he sang it, everybody thought he was saying, “Let’s not be Alsatian.”

And there are many more reasons why “Wooly Bully” is the Best Song of All Time, not the least of which is that Sam the Sham and Pharaohs used to perform it live wearing turbans, robes and sunglasses. Thus it became an extraordinarily influential song in rock’s long history. Without Sam the Sham, rock stars would never have begun to dress up funny, and there would have been no “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” no “Ziggy Stardust,” no Weird Al Yankovic dressing up like an Amish person.

Today, Domingo Samudio lives an exemplary life in Memphis. He is a non-denominational preacher, saving souls wherever he goes. He is rightfully proud of his place in pop history, and he and his band still perform “Wooly Bully” during ‘60s revival shows.

I have a dream. I dream that Sam the Sham will one day play this song in a triumphant performance at his own induction ceremony at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I vow to make this my crusade, my quest, my own personal Snuffleupagus.

Come on, everybody. Won’t you pull the wool with me?

To leave a message on Jim Kershner’s voice-mail, call 459-5493. Or send e-mail to jimk@spokesman.com, or regular mail to Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210.

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