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Jukebox America: Down Back Streets and Blue Highways in Search of the Country's Greatest Jukebox
Imagine John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley, to a soundtrack of Patsy Cline, Elvis Presley, and Frank Sinatra: Three years ago, Pulitzer Prizewinning journalist Will Bunch heard Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'" blaring from a New York City jukebox, and he knew he'd found his calling. He had to find America's Greatest Jukebox.
What he was looking for wasn't the chrome-adorned item itself; it was the unique musical collection, the joyful, anarchic alchemy of golden hits and forgotten 45's that only an unsung, back-of-the-bar jukebox could offer. But more, much more that this, what he was looking for represented his youth - and the youth of his generation, the Rear Guard Baby Boomers, reaching back to the late nights and easy life of their twenties as thirtysomething marches on.
He went to Detroit and Seattle, Chicago and Baltimore, the Mississippi Delta and Hoboken, New Jersey. He hit bars called the 924 Club and Rosa's and Honest? John's Bar and No Grill; he found vintage Seeburgs, sterile CD boxes, and, in one off-the-path stop, a juke operated via a jerry-rigged tape deck behind the bar.
After thousands of miles and thousands of quarters, he did find, in as unlikely a place as any, the Juke of the Covenant. And, along with that fleeting youth, he found a piece of America's soul. Like Route 66 or Blue Highways, Jukebox America is a song of America lost and found again; like the Beatles "Twist and Shout" or an old Four Tops record, it is a one-of-a-kind, pure driven pleasure.
What he was looking for wasn't the chrome-adorned item itself; it was the unique musical collection, the joyful, anarchic alchemy of golden hits and forgotten 45's that only an unsung, back-of-the-bar jukebox could offer. But more, much more that this, what he was looking for represented his youth - and the youth of his generation, the Rear Guard Baby Boomers, reaching back to the late nights and easy life of their twenties as thirtysomething marches on.
He went to Detroit and Seattle, Chicago and Baltimore, the Mississippi Delta and Hoboken, New Jersey. He hit bars called the 924 Club and Rosa's and Honest? John's Bar and No Grill; he found vintage Seeburgs, sterile CD boxes, and, in one off-the-path stop, a juke operated via a jerry-rigged tape deck behind the bar.
After thousands of miles and thousands of quarters, he did find, in as unlikely a place as any, the Juke of the Covenant. And, along with that fleeting youth, he found a piece of America's soul. Like Route 66 or Blue Highways, Jukebox America is a song of America lost and found again; like the Beatles "Twist and Shout" or an old Four Tops record, it is a one-of-a-kind, pure driven pleasure.
- GenresMusic
293 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 1994
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
July 11, 2014
This is a mediocre and over-inflated book, reflecting a minor idea in the hands of an able but not significantly talented journeyman writer. It reaches for the humorous, the reflective, and the profound, but is unable to achieve the desired effects with any frequency or consistency.
Bunch wants desperately to be Bill Bryson, but he lacks Bryson's ability to balance (and more importantly, to recognize) the light-hearted anecdote, the shrewd observation, or the occasional, light profundity. This is in large part a failure of taste: he does not seem always to understand that any given conversational interaction is not necessarily revelatory of anything but the idiosyncrasies of the people involved. He also seems to have identified the targets of opportunity for Profound Pronouncement well in advance, and when a likely moment approaches, he immediately starts huffing on the inflation tube, trying to make the observation or comment match the desired gravity. As must always be the case, inflation and gravity turn out to be at odds.
He also seems to want to emulate Greil Marcus, a task for which he lacks the sheer intelligence and breadth of reference.
These limitations, which are thematic as well as stylistic & intellectual, result in an tendency to burp up gauzy clouds of verbiage yearning desperately to breathe at high altitudes. For instance, the last paragraph of the book:
"The words and the music seemed to drift slowly in the July haze, moving west toward the heartland, out past the apple orchards of Winchester, Virginia, the rice fields of Longwood, Mississippi, and even past the fishing docks of Seattle. Tomorrow was July 4--another day for Jukebox America, but a special day for all its citizens, people who still care about brotherhood, sisterhood, and freedom of choice. It was Independence Day."
He had dutifully catalogued his journeys to Virginia, Mississippi, and Washington, but there had been no meditations on freedom of choice, nor had anything substantial been said about fraternity. So why do we get "brotherhood, sisterhood, and freedom of choice"? Well, isn't that what we're supposed to hear when we Listen To America?
So does Bunch beat on, his modest boat paddling ineffectually against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the imagined past.
Bunch wants desperately to be Bill Bryson, but he lacks Bryson's ability to balance (and more importantly, to recognize) the light-hearted anecdote, the shrewd observation, or the occasional, light profundity. This is in large part a failure of taste: he does not seem always to understand that any given conversational interaction is not necessarily revelatory of anything but the idiosyncrasies of the people involved. He also seems to have identified the targets of opportunity for Profound Pronouncement well in advance, and when a likely moment approaches, he immediately starts huffing on the inflation tube, trying to make the observation or comment match the desired gravity. As must always be the case, inflation and gravity turn out to be at odds.
He also seems to want to emulate Greil Marcus, a task for which he lacks the sheer intelligence and breadth of reference.
These limitations, which are thematic as well as stylistic & intellectual, result in an tendency to burp up gauzy clouds of verbiage yearning desperately to breathe at high altitudes. For instance, the last paragraph of the book:
"The words and the music seemed to drift slowly in the July haze, moving west toward the heartland, out past the apple orchards of Winchester, Virginia, the rice fields of Longwood, Mississippi, and even past the fishing docks of Seattle. Tomorrow was July 4--another day for Jukebox America, but a special day for all its citizens, people who still care about brotherhood, sisterhood, and freedom of choice. It was Independence Day."
He had dutifully catalogued his journeys to Virginia, Mississippi, and Washington, but there had been no meditations on freedom of choice, nor had anything substantial been said about fraternity. So why do we get "brotherhood, sisterhood, and freedom of choice"? Well, isn't that what we're supposed to hear when we Listen To America?
So does Bunch beat on, his modest boat paddling ineffectually against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the imagined past.
February 11, 2019
I really wanted to like this book. I think jukeboxes are a very interesting part of history. I like the color, lights, just the idea of them. And of course the selection of music. While we can play anything we want now, I fondly remember the jukebox in my local pizza hut growing up and how I could select a song on those rare occurrences my parents would give me change.
I think part of the problem of this book is that the terms used in it didn't age well. It was published almost thirty years ago (early 90's) and there's a lot of things that even now are historical (and wow I feel old writing that). Most of the places he mentions, probably aren't there anymore. The phrase he so dearly loves "rear guard boomer" I have never even heard of, and grew irritated at the amount of times it was used.
It also really wasn't about the jukeboxes so much as it was about his travels and just life at that time. While I loved the history and descriptions of food; the descriptions of the jukeboxes and that of his personal life just wasn't what I was looking for in this book. And it was almost a little too detailed which made it drag in certain parts. I did love how he described Alabama/Louisiana though and thought that was the most interesting part of the book. In fact, I looked up some of the places he described and was pleasantly surprised to find they were still around.
I'm sure the detailed writing worked well for him in his regular writing job, but for this book it just didn't resonate for me. My only other wish is that pictures would have been included, since several times he mentions taking them. I think it would have helped connect the reader to the travels and narrative he was trying to express.
Review by M. Reynard 2019
I think part of the problem of this book is that the terms used in it didn't age well. It was published almost thirty years ago (early 90's) and there's a lot of things that even now are historical (and wow I feel old writing that). Most of the places he mentions, probably aren't there anymore. The phrase he so dearly loves "rear guard boomer" I have never even heard of, and grew irritated at the amount of times it was used.
It also really wasn't about the jukeboxes so much as it was about his travels and just life at that time. While I loved the history and descriptions of food; the descriptions of the jukeboxes and that of his personal life just wasn't what I was looking for in this book. And it was almost a little too detailed which made it drag in certain parts. I did love how he described Alabama/Louisiana though and thought that was the most interesting part of the book. In fact, I looked up some of the places he described and was pleasantly surprised to find they were still around.
I'm sure the detailed writing worked well for him in his regular writing job, but for this book it just didn't resonate for me. My only other wish is that pictures would have been included, since several times he mentions taking them. I think it would have helped connect the reader to the travels and narrative he was trying to express.
Review by M. Reynard 2019
May 1, 2021
Very disappointed in this book as the self-proclaimed "rear guard baby boomer" seems to fail in his venture and always just miss the boat. Whether the person he wants to interview has just passed away or the best jukebox in America that he finds has just broken down, this author seems to show up just after anything of interest has happened. Dude just meanders about and hears stories of how much better things were just a few years ago. Maybe I was too young for this book, but it didn't seem to tell much anyway.
June 16, 2020
If you grew up listening to juke boxes then you will love this book. This author really did some research after travelling all over the U.S. and he has some great stories to tell. He liked the old timey juke boxes and the old tunes but he covers everything back then and today. His experiences on the road will keep you laughing and wish those good old days were back. So, if you are a true music fan and like all kinds of music then read this book.......you'll like it!
May 16, 2016
I was loaned this book by an acquaintance years ago. I read it and then finally bought it again for my own library. It's a good book, but not a great one. Brunch is an able writer he is conversant with music history, but it's never quite clear what he wants to find in his travels.
The idea behind Jukebox America is to discover America's best jukebox. This seems like a great idea for a book, but it is never quite clear what the rules are for this object. Brunch moves from one jukebox to the next without ever really saying what makes one great and one just average. His taste, while not exactly wrong, is also not exactly justified.
Brunch is a writer I want to like. In fact, there is a part of me that wishes I could be him, searching for this perfect jukebox. Seems like a lovely project. But he has a hard time connecting this to a larger narrative about life or America or really anything else. There are many good anecdotes about Mississippi and Louisiana and the bars he visits in Baltimore. It is an enjoyable trip, but there isn't much to generalize about.
Jukebox America is fun while you're reading it, but not a book that will stay with you or one that you will enthusiastically recommend to your friends, unless they truly love one of the artists that Bunch focuses on. This is a book I liked very much, but didn't love. For those of us that are interested in quixotic quests, here is a good entry in the genre. But it doesn't tell us as much as it wishes it did, except that music is easy to love and that there are pockets of this large country that still value local talent. Come to think of it, this is maybe more important that I originally thought.
This book won't change your worldview but it is a valuable contribution for preserving local culture and remembering a specific medium (one that is quickly fading away). Perhaps as time passes, it will become more special. For other 35 year olds that wish to preserve this art form, you may wish to check this book out.
It is hard to believe, but the idea of putting quarters in the jukebox will eventually be hard to understand for our children. This is one of the last pieces that tries to make a definitive statement about what our quarters meant to us.
The idea behind Jukebox America is to discover America's best jukebox. This seems like a great idea for a book, but it is never quite clear what the rules are for this object. Brunch moves from one jukebox to the next without ever really saying what makes one great and one just average. His taste, while not exactly wrong, is also not exactly justified.
Brunch is a writer I want to like. In fact, there is a part of me that wishes I could be him, searching for this perfect jukebox. Seems like a lovely project. But he has a hard time connecting this to a larger narrative about life or America or really anything else. There are many good anecdotes about Mississippi and Louisiana and the bars he visits in Baltimore. It is an enjoyable trip, but there isn't much to generalize about.
Jukebox America is fun while you're reading it, but not a book that will stay with you or one that you will enthusiastically recommend to your friends, unless they truly love one of the artists that Bunch focuses on. This is a book I liked very much, but didn't love. For those of us that are interested in quixotic quests, here is a good entry in the genre. But it doesn't tell us as much as it wishes it did, except that music is easy to love and that there are pockets of this large country that still value local talent. Come to think of it, this is maybe more important that I originally thought.
This book won't change your worldview but it is a valuable contribution for preserving local culture and remembering a specific medium (one that is quickly fading away). Perhaps as time passes, it will become more special. For other 35 year olds that wish to preserve this art form, you may wish to check this book out.
It is hard to believe, but the idea of putting quarters in the jukebox will eventually be hard to understand for our children. This is one of the last pieces that tries to make a definitive statement about what our quarters meant to us.
April 12, 2014
Beginning with THESE BOOTS ATE MADE FOR WALKING and concluding with LET'S STAY TOGETHER, William Bunch takes the reader on a quest to find the Jukebox of the Covenant. In do doing, Bunch visits Frank Sinatra's Hoboken, Patsy Cline's Winchester, Virginia and Elvis Presley's...Baltimore. Maryland. Because these cities are or were home to jukeboxes that featured sings by the aforementioned recording artists. Patsy Cline, Bunch informs, is the quintessential jukebox artist. In his travels, the author stops in a Louisiana blues June joint, searches for the transcendent jukebox in Seattle and Chicago and finds the Ghosts of Jukeboxes Padt, Present and Future in the dying Motor City. Bunch sprinkles his text with lyrics from jukebox songs of all stripes and misses his wife and new-born daughter each time he sallies forth to check out a Wurlitzer he's heard about. JUKEBOX AMERICA is more Americana than it is BLUE HIGHWAYS but Bunch meets interesting Americans and celebrates the music and songs that once brought Americans together and which now provide another excuse to keep us apart.
March 3, 2009
i loved, loved, loved this book. william bunch may be an older, male version of me. He's obsessed with jukeboxes, we have the same birthday, he calls people "believers", and the song that made him decide which jukebox was the "juke of the covenant" was al green's "let's stay together". that is my favorite song of all time and i think i will listen to it right now.
he basically goes on an adventure to random places in america to find the greatest jukebox in america and winds up running into all these different music communities. it's less about jukeboxes and more a book about how music brings people together in places that could not be more different. i recommend it to anyone who cares about music an absurdly large amount.
he basically goes on an adventure to random places in america to find the greatest jukebox in america and winds up running into all these different music communities. it's less about jukeboxes and more a book about how music brings people together in places that could not be more different. i recommend it to anyone who cares about music an absurdly large amount.
December 12, 2011
I love to read exploring journalist books! Not a genre in and of itself, it is an excellant way to be an armchair traveler and share in the explorers passion, in this case, jukeboxes.
Whenever I find a jukebox, more rarely now, I ALWAYS play it. It is part of Americana, it is part of teenage loves and part of any music fan's life as William Bunch shares in this love story.
The enthusism of the author did not wane despite the demise of many of the jukeboxes he found. It is a love story, but sad due to the continuing destruction of the jukebox. Celebrate the remaining ones where and when you find them, and at least vicariously enjoy them here as they are fade from our American landscape.
Whenever I find a jukebox, more rarely now, I ALWAYS play it. It is part of Americana, it is part of teenage loves and part of any music fan's life as William Bunch shares in this love story.
The enthusism of the author did not wane despite the demise of many of the jukeboxes he found. It is a love story, but sad due to the continuing destruction of the jukebox. Celebrate the remaining ones where and when you find them, and at least vicariously enjoy them here as they are fade from our American landscape.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews