The door swings open as we pass the caf\u00e9. The A\/C is turned up all the way, and we are embraced by a coolly seductive rush of air. We catch an irresistible cosmopolitan groove from the jukebox and can no longer stand out in the heat. We duck in, taking a table near the front window so we can watch life pass by.<\/p>\n
The song has just started and we smile as we sing along, relishing the lush and sultry rhythm. The rise and fall of the string arrangement is mirrored in our entwined arms, and the serpentine staccato urges us to get closer. We look directly into each other\u2019s eyes as the evocative story reaches into our romantic hearts.<\/p>\n
We don\u2019t miss a word, and as we reach the last repetition of the song\u2019s key phrase, we spot the couple in the back booth.<\/p>\n
\u201cMe and Mrs. Jones\u2026we got a thing goin\u2019 on\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Our eyes meet with theirs, and we instinctively lower our voices. As the song goes into fadeout, we turn to see the heat waves rising from the pavement outside.<\/p>\n
Candid, proud, and disarming in its tone, \u201cMe and Mrs. Jones\u201d was a #1 Billboard hit for Billy Paul in 1972. It dominated that position on the Hot 100 and R&B Singles charts for the month of December. It has been recorded by numerous artists since, including Grammy-winner Michael Bubl\u00e9 and alt-country chanteuse Kelly Willis.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s an enduringly popular song, one people sing along with regardless of their moral inclinations to the contrary. It is sweet without saccharine, sweepingly romantic, and against all odds. Its unhesitant declaration of \u201cwe got a thing goin\u2019 on\u201d is both intimate and celebratory. Taken within its own context, it provides an alluring portrait of infidelity in a seemingly innocent setting.<\/p>\n
Innocence is an ambiguous quality, it must be confessed. Billy takes the issue head-on, openly declaring that their rendezvous is wrong. But a thorough reading of the lyrics, projected against the setting, indicates that so little \u2018wrong\u2019 is really happening.<\/p>\n
They meet \u201cevery day at the same caf\u00e9,\u201d he says, illustrating their dedication to one another. But no matter how secluded their booth, it offers more limitations than the wedding rings they presumably wear. The most lurid behavior we can identify is \u201cholding hands.\u201d They do a lot of hoping, but hope is not a crime.<\/p>\n
The song\u2019s arrangement furnishes a setting of intimacy and comfort. The lilting melody immerses our confidence in a sea of sustained strings as we ease into the tuck-and-roll bassline. The high-hat chips away the precious evening hours while the sparse piano fills invite us to have one more cocktail. Economic lyrics help us imagine every nuance: the caf\u00e9\u2019s fluttering awning, little wrought iron sidewalk tables, large casement windows, and an ever-playing jukebox inside.<\/p>\n
By 6:30 PM, dusk is settling in. If the caf\u00e9 is in a major metropolitan area, then the surrounding buildings have already cast their shadows inside the room. From the sidewalk, we can see the presence of diners, but we can\u2019t make out their faces.<\/p>\n
Inside, however, their faces are clearly seen by the daily staff. The bartender certainly knows them, and perhaps he calls them both \u201cJones.\u201d The servers, the hostess, the manager, even the busboy, all recognize them. They\u2019re the regulars; they\u2019ve accrued certain privileges. The staff has taken them under their wing and guards their anonymity. Their table is ready and waiting every day at 6:30. Their favorite record is never removed from the jukebox. As Doris Day once sang, \u201cEverybody loves a lover.\u201d<\/p>\n
Privileged status aside, \u201cevery day at the same caf\u00e9\u201d indicates something very unpleasant: The lovers\u2019 refuge doubles as a prison, enforcing some very significant restraint. In many songs of infidelity we are privy to intimate moments in close quarters, where the lovers consummate their relationship. For example, \u201cIn Some Room Above the Street,\u201d a 1976 hit by Gary Stewart, takes us to a neon-lit hotel room, carefully chosen by the lovers to host their very passionate affair. In such a haven, they are free to express every aspect of their love. But with Mr. Paul and Mrs. Jones, there seems to be no such oasis. Dusk can only throw shade on their relationship, not draw a blind between them and the prying public.<\/p>\n
We don\u2019t know how long they spend at the caf\u00e9 each evening. We don\u2019t know if they\u2019ve ever met elsewhere. We don\u2019t know if they\u2019ve had one single quiet, private moment\u2014and in this the song presents them as relatively innocent. There\u2019s not one mention of sexual involvement, no allusion, no innuendo, no euphemisms. The resulting effect is that it\u2019s easy to find ourselves rooting for the couple. After all, they\u2019re just holding hands. That seems safe enough. As long as it doesn\u2019t get \u201cOut of Hand,\u201d the dangers of which Gary Stewart also sang about, in 1976.<\/p>\n
We can deduce that their tryst takes place in a large city. In a small town, everyone would know of their rendezvous, including their spouses. As Hank Williams says in \u201cYou Win Again,\u201d \u201cThe news is out all over town\/that you\u2019ve been seen out running around.\u201d This is not the case in \u201cMe and Mrs. Jones,\u201d judging from Billy\u2019s confident confession. In addition, the smooth R&B style of the song indicates a very urban love affair. This is no honky-tonk, and certainly not a roadhouse. It\u2019s a cozy bistro in Philadelphia, full of international soul.<\/p>\n
Honky-tonks and roadhouses have inspired numerous cheating songs, to be certain. And in many of them, the lovers are discovered. An extremely familiar example of this, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s 1973 song \u201cGimme Three Steps,\u201d portrays the polar opposite of \u201cMe and Mrs. Jones.\u201d The cheating woman is discovered by her mate, and the other man must flee for his life. A similar situation occurs in the 1964 hit by Jay and the Americans, \u201cCome a Little Bit Closer.\u201d Not one to be outdone by any man in a caf\u00e9 or honky-tonk, Doug Sahm recounted his personal barroom infidelities in multiple songs, such as \u201cI Can\u2019t Go Back to Austin\u201d and the title-says-it-all \u201cCowboy Peyton Place.\u201d<\/p>\n
In a public place such as this one, we can expect them to be cautious. They don\u2019t attract extra attention by dancing to their favorite song. Instead, they sit snugly and scheme elaborately–and this is the point which causes Billy\u2019s anxiety. \u201cWe got to be extra careful,\u201d he says, \u201cthat we don\u2019t build our hopes too high.\u201d For outside their Naugahyde love nest, there are other \u201cobligations.\u201d<\/p>\n
These obligations certainly involve spouses, and perhaps children. Billy doesn\u2019t say any more about their respective home lives, but his word choice\u2014obligations\u2014is very informative, telling us how they perceive their home lives. There\u2019s no mention of appreciation or love for anyone at home. In fact, the word love is completely absent from this song, never making an appearance even in regard to their illicit relationship.<\/p>\n
With unhappy\u2014or perhaps unremarkable\u2014experiences at home, Mr. Paul and Mrs. Jones have extra reason for caution. It would be easy for them to see each other as an exciting alternative to domestic doldrums. The runaway thrill of a forbidden romance leads directly to idyllic expectations. Perhaps the hopes they are fighting include the hope that they\u2019ve really found the perfect thing. It\u2019s definitely a \u201cthing,\u201d he proudly proclaims. But he doesn\u2019t provide an adjective.<\/p>\n
\u00a7<\/p>\n
An important discovery was made in the 1950s: how to properly stock a jukebox. Music historian Charlie Gillett writes: \u201cThese records had to have either a beat heavy enough to cut through the raucous clamor of a bar or a message desolate enough to haunt late-night drinkers not yet ready to go home.\u201d What this means is that our lovers, with their attachment to the jukebox, are subject to myriad aural hazards.<\/p>\n
The jukebox, an anemic and impersonal substitute for live musicians, can nevertheless influence the activity and emotion of the venue. It can instantly silence the chatter, clear the room, or fill the dance floor. A cleverly stocked jukebox can help an establishment generate repeat business, as aficionados know exactly where to hear a favorite tune or to catch a certain vibe.<\/p>\n
The jukebox\u2019s command of a venue\u2019s mood was illustrated in a 1972 episode of \u201cNight Gallery,\u201d in a segment titled, \u201cThe Tune in Dan\u2019s Caf\u00e9.\u201d<\/p>\n
The tune in question was Jerry Wallace\u2019s country hit from August of that year, \u201cIf You Leave Me Tonight I\u2019ll Cry.\u201d Through the course of the episode, we learn of ill-fated lovers Roy and Red, and how the jukebox itself becomes obsessed with them. Soon, that record\u2014acknowledged as their song\u2014became the only one the jukebox would play. Holding all present and future caf\u00e9 visitors in its maudlin grip, it offered its simple message through a few choice words: \u201cWords like love and truth and goodness\/Words like till death us do part\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
These words would surely sting our booth-bound lovers, broadcasting across the room the vows that Mrs. Jones and her paramour were potentially violating. The most poignant passage, however, would be the one that hints at their brief time together: \u201cFor the hours I\u2019ve spent here with you\/Are like words from a poet\u2019s pen.\u201d<\/p>\n
In 1972, the R&B poets were prolific regarding illicit relationships. For example, in July, Luther Ingram hit the charts with \u201cIf Lovin\u2019 You Is Wrong (I Don\u2019t Want to be Right).\u201d Its declaration of love in spite of traditional morality was undercut by the overwhelming condemnation offered by friends and family. Coming out of Memphis, it was hardly a shot of Southern Comfort.<\/p>\n
The previous month, Bobby Womack scored with \u201cWoman\u2019s Gotta Have It,\u201d about a woman who needs more than her man is giving her. \u201cBack Stabbers,\u201d from the O\u2019Jays in September, directed its paranoia at alleged friends who \u201csure look shady,\u201d always \u201cout to get your lady.\u201d Its grim outlook was the product of the same Philly soul factory as \u201cMe and Mrs. Jones.\u201d Yet another Philadelphia International hit, \u201cIf You Don\u2019t Know Me by Now,\u201d depicted romantic unhappiness just in time for Thanksgiving.<\/p>\n
A comparatively buoyant tune from October, the Spinners\u2019 \u201cI\u2019ll Be Around,\u201d began its promise of constancy with very dire words: \u201cThis is our fork in the road\/Love’s last episode\/There’s nowhere to go, oh no.\u201d Clearly, the jukebox could be a harsh mistress.<\/p>\n
With so many rocks along the shore, we have to wonder where they moored their love boat. Perhaps their pier was Al Green\u2019s \u201cLet\u2019s Stay Together,\u201d from earlier in 1972. We can only hope it wasn\u2019t Chuck Berry\u2019s October\u00a0 hit, \u201cMy Ding-a-Ling.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u00a7<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Tune in Dan\u2019s Caf\u00e9\u201d presented a song as an echo of a tragic affair. Similarly, \u201cMe and Mrs. Jones\u201d contains a reflection back to an earlier unresolved experience.<\/p>\n
As the song begins to close, Billy fights against the never-ending cycle of \u201devery day, at the same cafe.\u201d He reaches deep into their shared past, to a time when they had a more free, unbounded affair. His ad lib during the song\u2019s fadeout is a revelatory departure from the script.<\/p>\n
And it\u2019s obvious that he\u2019s no longer talking to us. He\u2019s pleading with her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanna meet and talk with you at the same place, the same caf\u00e9, the same time, and we gonna hold hands like we used to. We\u2019re gonna talk it over. We know, they know, and you know, and I know that it was wrong\u2026but I think it\u2019s strong. We gotta let \u2018em know now that we got a thing going on\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
In the scripted lyrics, he readily admits that their daily meeting is unacceptable by most standards. But in his ad lib, he seems to be singling out a significant and intense moment: \u201cIt was wrong,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
His protestations indicate that she won\u2019t revisit that time, no matter how strong their experience was. This is the first indication of a struggle in the midst of their romantic bliss: He wants to go legit, but she\u2019ll not have it.<\/p>\n
Does she ever honor his plea? Not within the four-and-a-half minute peek we have into their affair. Billy is stuck in limbo, evidenced by the skintight frustration of his voice as the song fades out.<\/p>\n
Soon we hear the jukebox\u2019s mechanism return this record to its slot. It seeks out the next selection, perhaps a classic from B. B. King, penned by Jessie Mae Robinson. It won\u2019t make things easier for our couple.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to meet you in the sunlight\/Not in some secret rendezvous\/Because I\u2019m so tired of sneakin\u2019 around with you.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The door swings open as we pass the caf\u00e9. The A\/C is turned up all the way, and we are embraced by a coolly seductive…<\/p>\n