The Rain, the Park and The Cowsills

John C. Reilly's parody movie about pop music biopics included a gesture toward the Cowsills. The Reilly movie was called "Walk Hard." Its main inspiration was "Walk the Line," the movie about Johnny Cash. Movies like "Walk the Line," "Ray" (about Ray Charles) and others started becoming predictable. Artist pays dues to achieve fame, succumbs to self-destructive temptations but lands on his feet, mostly.
I saw "Walk Hard" and "Walk the Line" in the theater. "Walk Hard" was brilliant satire. Alas, it seems that too often satire floats over people's heads. It's an indirect form of making a point, like irony. I hesitate making this point because it makes me seem aloof. But I make it out of disappointment in finding that the theater turnout was negligible, even though "Walk Hard" had just been released.
The Reilly character goes through a number of pop music phases, even a protest phase from the '60s. The guy hosts a typical schlock 1970s TV variety show. He does disco (obviously). And there's a takeoff on the Cowsills.
The Cowsills' niche was as a family band. I confess I under-appreciated them at the time. Years later when hearing a reference, I sort of had the group pigeon-holed as a fleeting chapter in our pop culture that evaporated as pop culture chapters do. Although I associated more than one song with them, I thought of them as basically the equivalent of a one-hit wonder group. The one song that pops into my head is "The Rain, the Park and Other Things." Weird song title, actually. It doesn't follow the book for pop music.
What exactly is meant by "other things" which seems like a throwaway part of the title? The explanation, I guess, is that the song was in the midst of the chaotic torrent known as the '60s. There is a psychedelic air to the song. Musically the song has a haunting depth to it. It contradicts the Cowsills' image as being of the "bubblegum" realm.
The Cowsills may have performed in a charming, beat-oriented fashion with Susan doing the go-go dancing thing, but really their music had an impressive sheen of craftsmanship. Maybe you shake your head as you focus on the "bubblegum" aspect. Surely this group was packaged for commercial success. They were disciplined musical entertainers managed by keen marketers, but none of this contradicts the investment of art in the compositions, recordings and performances. I think our world of today, frankly, could use some "bubblegum" sound. It would loosen everyone up. It would make us less "uptight," to use a word from the 1960s lexicon.
To use a cliched term, there was "innocence" to it all. Paul Revere and the Raiders fit in with all of that. The Monkees, never mind that the four guys were sometimes only a superficial representative of their music, epitomized also. Music with "a beat" is not by definition lowbrow. The top songwriters produce lyrics that follow all the rules, even with disco.

An upbeat time capsule
"The Rain, the Park and Other Things" has been described as a "sunshine pop classic." The sheer energy of youth is felt through all such music from the time, in a manner I just do not sense today. Remember when Paul Revere and the Raiders hosted a TV show that was a spinoff from "American Bandstand?" I can still remember the opening to that show that had the guys driving dune buggies. The young generation wanted to have fun and feel love. It makes us sad now, or makes me sad anyway, as I realize that behind the veneer of all the youthful joy, the Vietnam war was reaching its apex with the body bags. It was the older generation who failed to show proper vigilance in guiding us. Remember, there was a profound "generation gap."
The Cowsills had monster hits but a couple stopped their climb at No. 2. Maybe this held back their outright bid for music immortality. A shame of course. I think another factor was that it was a rather large family together for the endeavor. Too many in the group for people to easily memorize names? The Beatles and Monkees were a nice compact four. As for Paul Revere and the Raiders, they were essentially thought of as two people: Mark Lindsay and Paul Revere himself. The namesake of the band was actually not the top banana. Lindsay was the clear star and Revere played keyboards and had a nice smile with gleaming teeth. Revere was a conscientious objector from the war.
"The Rain, the Park and Other Things" came out in a time when executives running major record labels were actual musicians! (And remember, Mothers Against Drunk Driving was once actually run by mothers!) The song was written by Artie Kornfeld and Steve Duboff. The original title of the song did not have "And Other Things."
At first the song was going to be the 'B' side (the flip side) of a record that would have a Motown song, "Come Around Here," showcased. There was no initial sense that "The Rain, The Park" was going to be big. The record company did some testing in radio and learned the truth: "The Rain, The Park" would now seem to be the 'A' side choice. But a key tweak awaited to be made with the song title. Kornfeld made the decision just an hour away from the recording being pressed. You obviously know that vinyl records ruled in those days.
Kornfeld said he tapped something spiritual within him. He said "Let's call it 'The Rain, the Park and Other Things.' " He wasn't sure of the exact wellspring at the time. Just a little 1960s Karma? That's how I view it. So much of '60s pop culture seemed inscrutable. It had a happier sheen than today's pop culture which seems actually troubled. And the irony is that the profound tragedy of the Vietnam war was going on. The war reflected the world of our parents, who weren't stupid but just couldn't see past the machinations of government and the military industrial complex.
Kornfeld seemed to pull the title of the classic tune out of the ether. He later would describe it as a predictor of Woodstock. The song was recorded in August of 1967. The production, arrangement and vocal harmonies warrant an 'A' grade. There's a harp glissando, bells and a rain sound effect. Lowbrow? Certainly not, not even by the "bubblegum" Cowsills.
The family played all their instruments in live performances.
"The Rain, the Park and Other Things" pines for sheer happiness, offered by the mysterious flower girl. It taps the base impulse of love. "Oh, I don't know why, she simply caught my eye." Finally "the sun breaks through and the girl is gone." But the guy still has "one little flower" in his hand. And he realizes "her love showed me the way to find a sunny day." He wonders if she was just a dream.

From childhood to full maturity
Susan Cowsill was integral to the success of the group. She was the cute little tyke who played the tambourine at the start. She surely blossomed. She could dance with the best of the "go-go" performers, a category of dancing that seems to me to have just disappeared. Why? Susan showcased this wonderfully for a Monkees' video of "Valerie."
Susan adjusted well to adulthood even with less fame. She has stayed active in music and has made a decent if unspectacular spark. She showed no signs of being a maladjusted former child star, none at all, and for that I'm very happy. She's the only daughter in the family. At age 9 she was the youngest person to be directly involved in a top 10 record. She developed a professional songwriting skill.

The Cowsills were an indelible part of 1960s pop culture, now evoking nostalgia as effectively as any other act. Having hits climb to No. 2 is phenomenal, but remember that America worships being No. 1. Maybe that's why the group isn't quite in the pantheon of immortals, or don't seem to be. Never mind, I salute the group as much as any other pop act of the time.
Give me The Cowsills and Paul Revere and the Raiders. Why couldn't Mark Lindsay and Paul Revere have stayed together longer? Oh, the name of their TV show was "Happening '68" with a boffo theme song.
Most people who write about The Cowsills make reference to the Partridge Family. I am doing so only as an obligation. The Partridge Family were an attempted clone from the Cowsills. It's too bad Donny Bonaduce couldn't turn out as more of a normal human being. Susan Cowsill most definitely did.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com