Tom Westendorf was normally a happy man. He was in his mid 20s
and had a job teaching music at a school in Plainfield, Ill. Music
had been his first love and he had mastered a number of
instruments.
Tom Westendorf was normally a happy man. He was in his mid 20s and had a job teaching music at a school in Plainfield, Ill. Music had been his first love and he had mastered a number of instruments.
But even that was surpassed by the depth of his love for his wife, Jean. It was the name she had adopted soon after arrival in the United States several years earlier and he sometimes called her by that, but more often, “dear Jean.”
Westendorf frequently played songs of her native land on the piano and sometimes accompanied the music by singing the words. The first year or so of their married life had been exceptionally happy for the couple, but in the past months he had noticed a wistful, faraway look in her eyes. When he inquired, she shook her head and smiled brightly, but her eyes were often moist.
For the past week she had been visiting her mother in New York and Westendorf had a foreboding that persisted. He knew that she missed her homeland and foresaw a time when her nostalgia would overwhelm her and she might leave him for it.
With only a modest wage he could not afford to let her go back for a visit and her sadness was breaking his heart. But he still had his job to do and it included arranging a musical program for the school.
Then one morning he awoke with the music of a new song running through his mind. The lyrics spilled out so quickly that his pen could hardly record them as they came. He tried using Jean’s name but it didn’t quite fit the meter. Even “dear Jean” struck a false note, so he substituted another. He played the song over several times and made a few minor alterations until he had exactly what he wanted.
When his wife returned from New York he played and sang it for her even before she had unpacked. He saw her eyes brim again but this time they were tears of joy as she listened to the words that were at once a reaffirmation of his love and a promise.
Westendorf made the new song part of his school program and the students, teachers and parents applauded thunderously when they heard it and made him play it over and over.
“I’ll Take Thee Home Again, Kathleen” became 1875’s big hit and swept the nation, then Europe and Australia. It was especially popular with the Irish and figured prominently in St. Patrick’s Day celebrations. Irish singers such as Chauncey Olcott and later John McCormack added it to their repertoires. Thousands of girls were named Kathleen by parents who loved the song.
Westendorf wrote no other tune that survived, but from the proceeds of “Kathleen” was able to take dear Jean for an extended visit to her homeland, just as he had promised.
An anecdote of that time illustrates the deep-rooted impression the song made on its listeners. While he was playing at a St. Patrick’s Day party a burly man approached him and said in an Irish brogue, “I understand that you’re the lad that wrote that grand song. May I inquire your name?” When Westendorf told him, the man frowned and said, “That doesn’t sound Irish.” The composer replied, “My people came from Germany.” The man brightened, “So then, the lovely lass who inspired it came from Ireland?” “No,” Westendorf said. “She’s from Germany, too.”
The other man flushed and said, “It’s clear you’re an impostor because no one but an Irishman could have written that beautiful song about an Irish colleen,” and stalked away in disgust.
Westendorf eventually gave up explaining its origin, but he and dear Jean often smiled secretively at each other whenever a tenor rendered their song on March 17.
