That Guy Vol. 1
A Series on
Make no mistake, you know Phil Harris. You might not know Phil Harris, but that remarkable voice of his has been stuck in your musical memory your entire life. Be he a swingin’ bear or the coolest of cats, Phil Harris is THAT DUDE.
Ol’ Phil, the pride of Nashville by way of Linton, Indiana, was the beautiful, boisterous baritone behind Baloo the Bear, Thomas O’Malley, and Little John in the funkiest, jazziest, most country-fried era of Disney. Our boy was so hip it hurt. He got his start as a drummer in San Francisco for the Henry Halstead Big Band Orchestra in the middle ‘20s… that’s the 1920s. He formed an orchestra with Carol Lofner and served as the house band at the St. Francis Hotel until about 1932 back when hotels were luxurious establishments.
The Westin St. Francis on Union Square, San Francisco His orchestra cut swing records for the biggest record labels of the day - Victor, Columbia, Decca, and Vocalion. After the orchestra split, Phil decamped for Los Angeles, because that’s just what one did.
While in L.A. Phil became the musical director for Jack Benny, hosted a comedy variety show with his wife Alice Faye called The Fitch Bandwagon, then got bit with the acting bug, playing minor roles in a host of B-movies about the entertainment industry. He was pals with Bing Crosby and Dean Martin, and then some fella named Walt Disney came calling and said “I need that beautiful, boisterous baritone to voice a character named Baloo the Bear.” Probably not in those words, but leave me to my daydream.
Phil Baloo the Bear, Thomas O’Malley, Little John Harris Time does what time does and moves ahead, but if one looks with the right kind of eyes and pays attention to the end credits and small details, one can find profound joys, and I do. Then we gotta tune our ears in, or at least I do. Phil Harris is a voice for all time, literally and metaphysically. He voiced our collective childhood and we still, STILL jam to his Disney tunes. He’s long gone, but he’s actually not. Tom Petty is gone, but if you tune in to FM radio you’ll hear him. Phil isn’t on the radio, but he’s here, in the archives. That’s the beauty of libraries filled with books and music. We decided long ago that libraries are so significant to the advancement of human knowledge that they should be free to all. None of that matters, of course, when you’re grooving to Bare Necessities while showing your kid or niece or nephew The Jungle Book, and you should because Phil Goddamn Harris is holding court and you don’t wanna miss it.
