Cole Porter composed this lyric in Paris (c. 1935) according to a New Yorker writer, Margaret Case Harriman, “during a supper at Boeuf sur le Toit when Cole and Mrs Alistair Mackintosh entertained themselves by making up a list of superlatives that rhymed.” According to one columnist, Porter considered the song “just a trick” and thought people would soon be bored by it. The song was placed in the musical “Anything Goes” which opened in London on June 4, 1935.
The Waldorf Salad, consisting of apple, nuts (especially walnuts), celery, and mayonnaise or a dressing — is said to have been first created in 1896 at the Waldorf=Astoria Hotel in New York by Oscar Tschirky, who was the maître d’hôtel.
Porter would have been very familiar with the Waldorf=Astoria hotel. It was a social centre of the society scene in New York and he had been to many events held at the hotel – some of which were held in his honour.
In late October 1933, Elsa Maxwell gave a party in honour of George Gershwin, Grace Moore and Porter in New York. A newspaper account of the event described it “Exclusive Gathering Includes Notables of Music and Theatre”. Four grand pianos were places in the Astor Gallery of the Waldorf=Astoria and both Gershwin and Porter played.
Galas such as this amplified Cole’s celebrity so much that in 1934 a journalist wrote, “Cole Porter seems to have edged Noel Coward completely out of the spot as reigning (Manhattan) sophisticate.”
By 1935 Cole was “composing and writing his glossy tunes and lyrics in a niche of one of the Waldorf’s highest peaks.” After he moved in, Porter was presented with a Steinway grand piano as a gift from the management – a floral-print piano. Porter decorated the suite with two grand pianos placed curve to curve, the players facing.
Cole and his wife Linda occupied apartments on the forty-first floor of the Towers, just below the top floor which became the residence of the US ambassador to the United Nations and just above former President Herbert Hoover who had the floor below.
Cole would set to work “after midnight in a lengthy, cathedral-like room surrounded by pianos and dressed in slacks and a polo shirt with wide belt”.
At one stage Cole had two cats, one called Anything, the other called Goes. The cats never left the luxurious confines of the Waldorf Towers.
Another big bash Elsa Maxwell arranged took place at the Starlight Room of the Waldorf=Astoria before the Porters and friends sailed on a round-the-world voyage, The party began at eleven pm, preceded by a number of small dinner parties. Condé Nast gave one; Mrs William Randolph Hearst another; Princess Mdivani (married to Denis, son of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) a third. Seated at the entrance to the roof garden were two attendants: one announced the guests; the other ensured against gate crashing (not rare for Elsa’s parties). Johnny Green (composer of “Body and Soul”) led the orchestra from his piano. After some dancing the show, with Miss Maxwell as mistress of ceremonies, began. She announced Cole Porter and then unveiled a huge cake reaching almost to the ceiling. As the guests applauded, two folding doors parted at the base of the cake and out walked Cole Porter. He was placed in the seat of honour.
Shortly after Porter suffered a horse-riding accident in 1937 that left his legs paralysed, the tall broad-shouldered young Ray Kelly was employed to assist with Cole’s ‘care needs’. He was paid the then princely sum of one hundred dollars a week and installed in his own small apartment in the Waldorf.
In 1955, Cole’s staff shut down his old apartment 41-C and readied 33-A for his use. When he and his party returned to New York Cole was delighted with his newly-decorated apartment. It had been overseen by interior decorator Billy Baldwin – recommended by his late wife Linda. Everyone who visited Cole in the years following this move raved about the beauty of his surroundings and, in particular, the bookcases with brass piping and ebony shelves. The apartment was mentioned in The New York Times – “The book units give Mr Porter’s library…a cachet that decorators have been trying to emulate ever since.”
Vogue that year published photographs of the Porter apartment, and Baldwin’s design was imitated by trendy types, who also tried to copy the dark walls of tortoiseshell designs done on the Chinese lacquered paper which Linda had brought from rue Monsieur, George Cukor came to visit Cole at the Waldorf in November and wrote to say, “I was ébloui by your apartment!”
The floral print piano given to Porter by the management of the Hotel is now on display in “Peacock Alley” on the Lobby Level. Here Cole composed some of the songs that perhaps best represent the mood and sophistication of New York City and Broadway through the 1930s and 40s.
At words poetic, I’m so pathetic
That I always have found it best,
Instead of getting ‘em off my chest,
To let ‘em rest unexpressed,
I hate parading my serenading
As I’ll probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty
At least it’ll tell you
How great you are.
You’re the top!
You’re the Coliseum.
You’re the top!
You’re the Louvre Museum.
You’re a melody from a symphony by Strauss
You’re a Bendel bonnet,
A Shakespeare’s sonnet,
You’re Mickey Mouse.
You’re the Nile,
You’re the Tower of Pisa,
You’re the smile on the Mona Lisa
I’m a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop,
But if, baby, I’m the bottom you’re the top!
Your words poetic are not pathetic.
On the other hand, babe, you shine,
And I can feel after every line
A thrill divine
Down my spine.
Now gifted humans like Vincent Youmans
Might think that your song is bad,
But I got a notion
I’ll second the motion
And this is what I’m going to add;
You’re the top!
You’re Mahatma Gandhi.
You’re the top!
You’re Napoleon Brandy.
You’re the purple light
Of a summer night in Spain,
You’re the National Gallery
You’re Garbo’s salary,
You’re cellophane.
You’re sublime,
You’re turkey dinner,
You’re the time, the time of a Derby winner
I’m a toy balloon that’s fated soon to pop
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
You’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re an arrow collar
You’re the top!
You’re a Coolidge dollar,
You’re the nimble tread
Of the feet of Fred Astaire,
You’re an O’Neill drama,
You’re Whistler’s mama!
You’re camembert.
You’re a rose,
You’re Inferno’s Dante,
You’re the nose
On the great Durante.
I’m just in a way,
As the French would say, “de trop”.
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
You’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re a dance in Bali.
You’re the top!
You’re a hot tamale.
You’re an angel, you,
Simply too, too, too diveen,
You’re a Boticcelli,
You’re Keats,
You’re Shelly!
You’re Ovaltine!
You’re a boom,
You’re the dam at Boulder,
You’re the moon,
Over Mae West’s shoulder,
I’m the nominee of the G.O.P.
Or GOP!
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
You’re the top!
You’re the top!
You’re a Waldorf salad.
You’re the top!
You’re a Berlin ballad.
You’re the boats that glide
On the sleepy Zuider Zee,
You’re an old Dutch master,
You’re Lady Astor,
You’re broccoli!
You’re romance,
You’re the steppes of Russia,
You’re the pants, on a Roxy usher,
I’m a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop,
But if, baby, I’m the bottom,
You’re the top!
Much of this information taken from “Cole Porter, the Definitive Biography” by William McBrien (Harper Collins Entertainment).
Tags: Alistair Mackintosh, Anything Goes, Billy Baldwin, Boeuf sur le Toit, Cole Porter, Conde Nast, Elsa Maxwell, George Cukor, George Gershwin, Johnny Green, Linda Lee Porter, Margaret Case Harriman, Matthew Carey, Mrs William Randolph Hearst, music, New York City, Noel Coward, Oscar Tschirky, Peacock Alley, Princess Mdivani, Ray Kelly, Steinway, The New York Times, Vogue Magazine, Waldorf Salad, Waldorf Towers, Waldorf=Astoria Hotel, You're The Top
