Please take a moment to read these lyrics, because they impact upon Chatty’s musings later in this post - plus, they're a hoot!

                                "The ballroom was filled with fashion's throng,

                                It shone with a thousand lights;

                                And there was a woman who passed along,

                                The fairest of all the sights.

                                A girl to her lover then softly sighed,

                                "There's riches at her command."

                                "But she married for wealth, not for love," he cried!

                                "Though she lives in a mansion grand".

                    Refrain:

                                She's only a bird in a gilded cage,

                                A beautiful sight to see.

                                 You may think she's happy and free from care,

                                She's not, though she seems to be.

                                'Tis sad when you think of her wasted life

                                For youth cannot mate with age;

                                And her beauty was sold

                                 for an old man's gold,

                                She's a bird in a gilded cage.

                                I stood in a churchyard just at eve,

                                When sunset adorned the west;

                                And looked at the people who'd come to grieve

                                For loved ones now laid at rest.

                                A tall marble monument marked the grave

                                 Of one who'd been fashion's queen;

                                And I thought, "She is happier here at rest,

                                Than to have people say when seen":

                    Refrain:

                                She's only a bird in a gilded cage,

                                 A beautiful sight to see.

                                You may think she's happy and free from care,

                                She's not, though she seems to be.

                                'Tis sad when you think of her wasted life

                                For youth cannot mate with age;

                                And her beauty was sold

                                for an old man's gold,

                                She's a bird in a gilded cage."

    Quite fulsome, over-blown and sentimental lyrics, aren’t they? Still, they were written in 1900, when over-the-top sentimentality was in vogue. And, more importantly, they speak to a time when it was rare for any woman to complain about her lot in life – much less have lyrics written about it. This alone makes the song quite special.

    To hear the melody, click here. Then, scroll down to the entry "Bird in a Gilded Cage"; at the bottom of that entry, click on "listen to midi version". While there, you might want to check out a few of the other little gems - not for nothing were these ditties known as tear-jerkers!

    It’s worth the few moments it takes - really. But be warned – the tune will haunt you. It has been Chatty’s Ear Gremlin for over a week now. *sigh*

    Can’t you almost HEAR the piano in the house of ill repute, banging out this tune that the ladies of the evening pretend to enjoy with their men of the moment, while secretly wiping away tears? (And Chatty is NOT being sarcastic – which should make a nice change for her legions of loyal readers the Wiz.)

    But, Chatty being Chatty, she did have to wonder – because the song was written in 1900, by Arthur J. Lamb and Harry Von Tilzer - two of the original Tin Pan Alley impresarios. The Birdcage Theater was only active from 1881 to 1889. Had either Lamb or Van Tilzer visited Tombstone, been moved to write a song about the soiled doves, waited anywhere from 11-19 years, then translated their song into a polite society version to make it more acceptable?

    Probably not.

    But…maybe. And "maybe" always makes things more interesting...

    Von Tilzer’s life story, though fascinating, makes it obvious that during the requisite years he had never been south or west of Chicago – and so had certainly never visited The Birdcage Theater - which opened when he was 9, and closed down when he was 17. His past was interesting, but not THAT interesting! In any case, he wrote the melody, which is not as germane to the issue as the lyrics in this instance. But here’s a piece of trivia for you – his real name was Harry Gumm, and he had a niece named Frances Gumm, who became famous under another name, just like her uncle. Anyone?

    Arthur J. Lamb wrote the lyrics. He was an Englishman, born in 1870, and there is no evidence that he was ever in Tombstone either - or at the Birdcage, which closed down when he was 19. In fact, it’s likely he never made it west of Manhattan, or wanted to. However, Chatty HAS found a web site (but one dedicated to promoting Tombstone, so there’s our "maybe") that describes Arthur J. Lamb as standing at the Birdcage's bar, talking to Eddie Foy, Sr. - and being moved to write a song about the "birds" in their "cages". But, his eventual lyrics speak of a young woman trapped in marriage to a wealthy older man - a popular theme in art and literature of the day - NOT a woman of ill repute at a bawdy house in Tombstone, AZ.

    So, permit Chatty to doubt – but it does make one hell of a story!

    In any case, the sentiments were apt, though written too late to be of any comfort to the doves who had plied their trade at the Birdcage.

    While Chatty feels it is slightly misleading of the employees to tout The Birdcage as being the inspiration for a song that was written 11 years after the theater closed down - by men who had probably never been there – about women who had gone on to heaven only knows where by the time the song was published - she cannot blame them.

    Business is business, after all - and even after all these years, the proprietors of The Birdcage Theater are still ALL about business.

    Heaven knows they aren’t about basic hygiene and breathable air!

    Just the memory of that self-guided tour has Chatty reaching for her inhaler.