"Just Because"

When Elvis Presley recorded “Just Because” in 1954 in Memphis’s Sun Studio, the 19-year-old rocker was revisiting a saucy novelty tune that was a monster hit five years earlier for a West Virginian known as “America’s Polka King.”

Accordionist Frankie Yankovic — a native of Davis, WV, in Tucker County who recorded more than 200 songs and sold 30 million records — had just returned to his new home in Cleveland after four years of Army service in World War II, eager to resume what would be his 70-year career as a musician.

One night in the bar he operated, Yankovic visited with an old war buddy, polka pal Johnny Pecon, who played the tune for him, a song that Pecon had picked in the Pacific while serving with the Seabees.

What Pecon described as an old country and western number, “Just Because” had been written by Texas’s Shelton Brothers, Bob and Joe, in 1929 and released by their band a few years later by Decca Records.

Another version of the song was done in 1935 by Les Paul, the guitar great who still called himself “Rhubarb Red” in those days before hitting it big in the 1950s.

Both the Shelton and Les Paul records flopped. But Yankovic liked the song’s simple lyrics, which tell the story of a man breaking up with his gold-digging girlfriend. Frankie knew it would be easy for fans to learn the words. He asked Pecon and arranger Joe Trolli to create a polka-ish bridge for the song. Soon “Just Because” was a big hit with the folks who came to Yankovic’s dance gigs in Cleveland.

Yankovic Stands Up to Columbia

A few years later, when he signed a contract with the Columbia — the recording company he would work with for the next 26 years — Yankovic wanted to record “Just Because” on the B side of his “That Night in May.” However, he ran into resistance.

“Why go again with that turkey?” said the Columbia executive in charge of the session.

Yankovic pushed back, telling him how popular it was with his audiences back home. When the exec wouldn’t budge, the two got into a shouting match. Columbia’s new polka star threw sheet music on the floor and kicked a chair.

“No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get through to this guy,” Yankovic recalled years later. “Finally, I said, 'Look, I'll make a deal with you. I'll buy the first 10,000 records myself.’ I knew I could sell them off the bandstand. That convinced him. Columbia wasn't taking the chance anymore; I was. He gave us the go-ahead.”

Even in Boston…

You know what they say about the rest of the story: pure history. His “Just Because” skyrocketed in the late 1940s.

For instance, in Boston — not actually known as a polka town — disc jockey Bob Clayton played the song on the air and within two minutes 60 phone callers requested an encore. Clayton played it six times that first day. By next week 25,000 copies of the disc were sold in Boston alone.

Before long, sales of the record hit the million mark. Eventually it sold about two million, including reissues.

Bash Fun from ‘81

Now flash forward 30 years or so. In the Floodisphere, the song always conjures up memories of a hot, sweet night in the fall of 1981 when The Samples Brothers (Mack, Ted and Roger) brought down the house at a Bowen Bash. Here’s that moment in a clip from the band’s Bowen Bashes legacy film series:

As you’ll hear, the brothers are joined by Mack’s long-time buddy, guitarist Frank Beal, who takes the first solo, leading to six-string replies by both Ted and Rog. Also on the bandstand is Flood kazoo guru Dave Peyton and his latest creation at the time, “Wallace the Washboard.”

(Incidentally, the occasion of this recording was the last of nearly a decade of “Bowen Bash” music parties. A 90-minute tribute to that final Bash go-round can be viewed for free on YouTube by clicking right here.)

Meanwhile, 30 years later, the Samples Brothers were still doing their rocking version of “Just Because,” as demonstrated in this Flood Watch report about a gathering at Tammy and Roger Samples’ Mount Sterling, Ky., house in Janaury 2011.

Our Take on the Tune

As you can tell, this wonderfully zany old tune from the late Roarin’ Twenties is a song in search of a comedy routine, and in this track from last week’s rehearsal, The Flood certainly tries to do its part.

Right from the start, Danny Cox adds guitar accents that would be at home in a Spike Jones arrangement, then Jack Nuckols switches from his usual cool brushes and snare to those funky old wooden spoons, and suddenly the joint is jumpin’.