Why Lawrence Welk Should Have Gone to Prison

Her parents were divided on whether The Lawrence Welk Show was worth watching. Although Toni Jeffrey was usually on Team Mom, she had no choice here but to betray her mother when it came to this 1950s musical entertainment show.

If you do not know who Lawrence Welk was, lucky you! Don’t even ask your elders. Google him at your own risk.

I read a lot as a child, to the point at which my sister and brother poked fun at my bookworm habit. (Sister: “When are you going to read the dictionary?” Brother: “As soon as she gets done reading the encyclopedia.”) Well, excuse the crap out of me.

I also watched a lot of TV. My viewing habits included good shows such as Looney Tunes, Popeye, The Flintstones, and Jeopardy (yes, even as a little girl). Heck, I still watch The Flintstones and Jeopardy. I am not embarrassed to admit I regularly quote the former and still test my knowledge nightly on the latter.

However, I also watched a lot of bad shows, most notably Big Time Wrestling, the precursor to WWE pretend wrestling that is unfortunately still quite popular. Being the youngest of four, my mom didn’t believe in limiting screen time. As long as I shut up and left her alone, she was fine with me glued to the screen rather than asking her numerous unanswerable questions and volunteering to, um, “help” her in the kitchen. I was content to root for Ray Stevens – after he became a good guy, anyway – and root against the Von Brauner brothers, whose manager dressed like a Nazi soldier. Yes, really.

Although I didn’t brag about watching Big Time Wrestling every Saturday at 1 p.m., it was fun in a weird way. But The Lawrence Welk Show was an ongoing bone of contention between my parents.

My parents, um, disagreed about a lot of things. Among them was that Mom loved Welk’s so-called “champagne music,” but Dad despised him. It is rather surprising in retrospect because both of them otherwise had reasonably good taste in music: Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, Engelbert Humperdinck. That said, when the Welk music issue surfaced, all bets were off.

Even at a young age, I perceived that Welk’s show was incredibly cheesy. Depending on which internet link you believe, it aired every Saturday night for over 15 years. One hour of cringeworthy music. So cheerful and optimistic. But aren’t musicians supposed to write songs expressing their unrequited love for the person who chewed up their hearts and spit them out? That our existence on this planet is an ongoing ordeal? That we must consistently fight for our right to party?

Apparently Welk’s show was considered a welcome backlash to the Actual Good Music being created at the time. Thanks to my older sisters, I knew what Actual Good Music was, although it depresses me to see the eBay prices for the Beatles memorabilia they owned but didn’t preserve. Bobbleheads. Swan Records 45s. Sigh. Anyway, let’s move on.

Dad refused to watch The Horrible Man with the Accordion, so Mom was incredibly relieved when we got a second TV and she could be her. No idea why Dad had veto power over the main TV in the living room. Because he brought home the bacon, I guess? Mom simply had to deal with four rambunctious children and put dinner on the table every night. No takeout or TV dinners allowed; it had to be a made-from-scratch traditional-ish Italian meal. I guess dealing with us four rambunctious kids wasn’t hard enough.

Even though I was usually on Team Mom, I still cringed at her Welk love. Honestly, I wanted to be supportive, but it was so awful. Isn’t it a law that if you “play an accordion, go to prison?” Welk apparently was not aware of that. If your curiosity is tragically piqued, I will try to describe how awful it was.

Only God knows what the term “champagne music” actually meant, but the show actually used a bubble machine that floated actual bubbles over the heads of the band so it would look cute. Due to the complaints from musicians that the bubbles were leaving an unfortunate soapy residue on their instruments (who saw that coming?), the bubble machine’s use was greatly curtailed.

In addition to the big band standards, they tried to throw in some popular songs just to prove they were kinda-sorta cool while the performers wore dorky costumes. Some unlucky singer performed Elvis Presley’s “Don’t Be Cruel” while he wore fake Elvis sideburns. A couple of other performers sang a #2 hit (which I have never heard of) while one of them sported a beatnik outfit. Who needs Actual Good Music when you can experience pale imitations?

The show eventually met its demise because too many old people were watching it … demographics, I suppose. However, I was horrified to learn that its legacy lives on in Branson, Missouri. On the other hand, there is plenty of awful TV today. So Welk and crew didn’t have a monopoly on it.

But they did at the time. Unless you count My Mother the Car and Mr. Ed. A talking maternal car and a talking horse. You be the judge if those ideas were dumber than the champagne music entourage.

Toni Jeffrey is a recovering technical writer living in California’s beautiful Santa Cruz Mountains. Her first book, “Professional Bum: Lessons Learned From My Twentysomething Adventures,” was published in December 2024. Excerpts from her forthcoming book, “Tell Me Why,” are posted at tonijeffrey.substack.com.