The Story Behind White Christmas by Anita Dickason and Caleb Pirtle III

Some memories never fade. For me, the song, White Christmas, is one. From my earliest childhood memories, hearing Bing Crosby sing White Christmas was linked to my Christmases. To this day, watching Bing Crosby’s 1954 movie, White Christmas, is a tradition, along with the 1951 version of A Christmas Carol with Alastair Sims. 

When I received Caleb and Linda Pirtle’s newsletter with Caleb’s poignant story of the man behind the song, I had to share it. It’s won numerous awards (including an Academy Award),  it is the best-selling single of all time, and for many the holiday season doesn’t start until they hear it. My friend Caleb Pirtle has graciously allowed me to reprint it. 

In today’s fast-paced world, sometimes we need to slow down, step back and remember. White Christmas is as endearing now as it was when first written. A time when all Americans in the United States needed the hope of better times. And maybe … we still do. 

The memory of the best original song (at least to me): 

The Story Behind White Christmas — The Story of an American Song

By Caleb Pirtle III

He had no business writing the song. He had no business writing about Christmas. He was a Russian. He was a Jew. During the dark days of December, he was a melancholy man. But from the heart of Irving Berlin came the one song that struck a nostalgic chord in America during 1942, grabbed the soul of a nation, and has never let go.

The Berlin home always had a Christmas tree, stockings, a turkey, and plum pudding. It was time for celebration. It was a time for family. And no one loved his family more than Irving Berlin. In the dark days of December, he was a melancholy man.

Irving Berlin could not read a note of sheet music, yet he composed more than a thousand songs, and four hundred of them became American standards, songs like Alexander’s Ragtime Band, Easter Parade, Cheek to Cheek, No Business Like Show Business, and God Bless America.

He was the master. As composer Jerome Kern would say, “Irving Berlin has no place in American music. Irving Berlin is American music.” He was working in Beverly Hills. He was alone and lonely. He missed his family. And he sat down one night and worked on a new song. But it didn’t quite capture the way he was feeling. So, Berlin threw the lyrics in a trunk and could have forgotten them. He didn’t.

A couple of years later, Berlin found them and worked throughout the night, writing, re-writing, revising, and rearranging the words. The melody was already locked in his head. The next morning, he walked into his office and told his musical secretary, “Grab a pen,” he said. “You need to take down this song. I just wrote the best song I’ve ever written.”

She typed the words to White Christmas. It was slow. It was nostalgic. It was melancholy. But then, during the dark days of December, Irving Berlin was a melancholy man.

Bing Crosby sang White Christmas for the first time on his NBC radio show. He sang it, and a heartbroken nation listened. He sang White Christmas for the first time on Christmas day. He sang White Christmas for the first time eighteen days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and left America weeping for its missing and its dead. It was the start of World War II.

Armed Forces Radio was swamped with requests for the song. For the American Soldiers, it was their first winter, their first Christmas in the trenches of Germany, on the islands surrounding Japan. They were homesick, and White Christmas gave them a vision of home, if only for eight lines, fifty-four words, and sixty-seven notes. It was enough.

White Christmas was a song of hope with a melancholy melody, but, during the dark days of December, Irving Berlin was a melancholy man.

Brought on by the death of his son on Christmas Day in 1928. The boy was only three days old. And Berlin spent every Christmas for the rest of his life beside the grave of his son in New York. Berlin sat in the December chill dreaming of a White Christmas that would never be.

White Christmas Lyrics

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

“May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white”

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As this Christmas Eve comes to a close, we remember Caleb Pirtle III and this wonderful holiday classic of an article he let us share – about how a simple song continues to be one of the best American holiday songs ever written. And like Caleb Pirtle, it continues to touch lives around the world, even though its writers are no longer on the same page as us. 

So this Christmas as you listen to this popular song, during a silent night looking at your Christmas tree all aglo. Would you think about all the people who’ve been impacted by this song’s success, and all the people who will be touched by it in generations to come, and say a little prayer for the next Irvin Berlin who may well be among us now? 

Caleb had a way of writing that pulled the reader into the story, feeling the emotion behind the words. It even extended into his newsletters, which were a joy to read—another talent I truly envied. 

This year, the writing community lost a talented writer and mentor to many authors. Caleb Pirtle was a unique individual whose talent and willingness to share his time, and support was second to none. 

Caleb was a prolific writer with ninety or so books throughout his career. A feat I cannot imagine. His latest books were part of the Underground Authors, Magnolia Bluff Crime Chronicles.

If you have a question or a comment, please let me know. I’m always “On The Hunt” for new ideas.

From my Author’s World to yours, have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Anita Dickason