Singing the Praises
of the Golden
Gate Bridge
I
t’s not easy singing the praises of
the Golden Gate Bridge, but I keep
trying. I’ve been doing it officially
for 20 years. Here’s the story. District. Whether she was joking or not,
she challenged me: “You’re a singer-
songwriter. Why don’t you write a real
tribute to the bridge?”
In 1997, the San Francisco Convention
and Visitors Bureau, then under the
leadership of former Marin resident
John Marks, hosted a member’s
luncheon at the Moscone Center. The
occasion was the celebration of the
60th anniversary of the Golden Gate
Bridge. The featured speaker, Charles
Osgood was at that time the host
of the television show, CBS’ Sunday
Morning. At the conclusion of his talk,
he said: “People have asked me if there
is an official song for the Golden Gate
Bridge? Of course there is!” With that
he whipped out his ever-present banjo.
He began to sing over and over to the
opening bars of “The Blue Danube”
waltz: “The Golden Gate Bridge”
plunk-plunk, plunk-plunk. “The Golden
Gate Bridge,” plunk-plunk, plunk-
plunk. Everyone had a good laugh. The
luncheon ended, and the guests began
heading for the door. As a native San Franciscan who
began his career singing with the San
Francisco Boys Chorus, and went on to
perform at many of the city’s important
venues, sharing the stage with Nat
Cole, Johnnie Ray, Leontyne Price and
soloing with Duke Ellington, I felt up to
the task.
On my way out, I was stopped by one
of the members of the Golden Gate
Bridge Highway and Transportation
18 MARIN ARTS & CULTURE
I’ve always been a wordsmith. Growing
up in San Francisco and a lifelong
student of its history, I had that part
handled. As on-air talent for KSFO/KYA
radio I broadcasted four hours live from
the Golden Gate Bridge on its 50th
anniversary. What I needed now was a
composer, someone who could create
a melody worthy of the span to which
I could feather in appropriate lyrics.
Then I thought of someone I knew
would be perfect—Bob Voss.
Although the late songwriter was
from New York, not San Francisco,
he had the kind of ability that had
distinguished the two New Yorkers
who wrote, “I Left My Heart in San
Francisco,” George Cory and Douglass
by Noah Griffin
Cross. After spending four hours with
his wife Beryl on a picnic at Crissy Field
in the shadow of the bridge, Voss
returned to their Nob Hill apartment
and laid out an elegant paean—it
almost wrote itself.
Adding lyrics to his composition was a
joy. The only thing lacking was a verse,
which my old friend, San Francisco
Chronicle writer and pianist, the late
Sandy Zane used to refer to as the
“mother-in-law.” So I came up with
one—and we had a song.
Next, we had the song arranged,
rented a recording studio, hired strings
and produced a video, which combined
stock and fresh footage of the bridge.
We had ourselves what we thought
was a sure-bang winner. But wait—not
so fast there buckaroo!