Sung to the Tune of — oh, nevermind
My first full-byline article in MAD was a “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime”-Update in issue #223 (Jun 1981). It was a set of modern lyrics, about modern “offenders,” to be sung (or so I thought!) to the well-known tune of the same name from Gilbert & Sullivan’s 1885 comic opera, “The Mikado.”
Since this was my very first “go-ahead” to write up a full piece for them, I used every single spare moment for the following 5 or 6 weeks, determined to make it perfect. After submitting a first draft, they asked me for rewrites on a couple of the stanzas and then very shortly thereafter, I had a release form to sign, and an actual check!
A few months later, I finally stood at the local magazine rack with “my” issue in hand, reading my piece in print. My elation, however, quickly transformed into puzzlement, dismay, then outrage. The MAD editors had changed not one, not two, not just a handful…but literally 75-80% of my painstakingly crafted lines! What was worse: their changes didn’t even make sense - my lyrics that had previously fit quite nicely “to the tune of” a particular melody…now didn’t. Not even remotely.
So I did what any self-respecting writer (novice or not) would do upon seeing his “baby” hacked to shreds by editors: I wrote a long, flaming, insult-filled letter to them. The only difference: I actually mailed mine!
By the time editor Nick Meglin called me back, I was ready for anything up to and including The Big F.U.…“Get Lost”…”Who the hell do you think you are, pipsqueak Novice Writer?!!” Much to my surprise, and relief, Nick patiently explained why they had made all the changes and apologized for not having told me about them before publication (“Ya’ think?!!”). Turns out that the editors had decided, after all of my work, that the lyrical meter of the original “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime” was so irregular (which is true) that only readers who actually knew the tune would be able to “get it.” And then they concluded that MAD-reading kids of the 1980s were far less likely to be familiar with Gilbert & Sullivan than, say, those of the 50s or 60s (also probably true). So, the editors themselves proceeded to rewrite the entire thing in regular, standard verse, as if it were just any old poem that never even met Gilbert & Sullivan…except that the article’s title itself (along with the great Jack Davis “Mikado”-artwork) would naturally lead everyone who did know the tune to try and sing these new “lyrics” to them — to their utter confusion and frustration!
(BTW: If you actually were one of those readers who tried to sing it, and wondered, “WTF?!!” — there! Now you know, only 27 years late!)
So, what does this episode demonstrate? Looking back now, a lot more than I previously thought:
1. Despite what everyone thinks, there was already a realization at MAD, at least as far back as 1981, that their readers were changing more than the magazine itself was! And they were trying to do something about that.
2. But what they did about it, in this case, perfectly illustrates another enduring feature of writing for MAD: how things like “logic” and “consistency” sometimes take long vacations from the editorial offices! I’m sure that every contributor has their own stories of dealings with “Rube Goldberg, the MAD Editor.” (Of course, being paid among the highest page-rates in the magazine business went a long way toward helping us view these quirks in an amusing, endearing light - rather than as something less benign.)
3. When you’re being run by a Bill Gaines; putting out a leisurely 8 issues per year and selling over a million of each of them…you have the luxury of being patient & understanding with a freelancer and his tantrums. When you’re a division of a division of a division of TIME-WARNER with double the workload and less than 1/5 the circulation…eh, I wouldn’t count on it.