Dr. Hook's "Sylvia's Mother"

story well told

A few weeks ago I listened—intentionally, though I can’t remember what prompted the selection—to “Sylvia’s Mother,” the 1972 hit by Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show.

It was a mistake—and then it wasn’t.

It was a mistake because it stuck in my head for several days.

But then, since I couldn’t escape, to make the best of it I studied the lyrics, the flow, the imagery, and concluded that “Sylvia’s Mother” is storytelling at its best, as of course many hit songs are.

True life makes the best stories—and it turns out the song is based on the experience of the surprising lyricist. More on him later.

The telling of the story is genius: we’re listening in on a call made from a telephone booth—you must remember pay phones. Yes, we’re eavesdropping! We hear both sides of a conversation, but our heartbroken jilted caller never gets to talk to the one he has called—Sylvia, his former lover—he can’t get past the gatekeeper, Mrs. Avery, who is of course Sylvia’s mother; nonetheless he keeps begging, “please.”

All he wants to do, so he says and we hear, is tell her goodbye, but alas, the gatekeeper is resolute.

Adding to his frustration is the telephone operator who breaks in (or was the operator eavesdropping, too?) three times at pivotal moments asking our distraught caller to deposit more coins—a buck twenty, total. He must’ve had a pocketful of dimes.

He’s getting nowhere. He’s told from the get-go Sylvia’s busy, she is happy (at least in mother’s eyes) and wants to start a new life. Mother twice wonders why he won’t leave her alone, she’s in a hurry, catching a train to Galveston, getting married.

Our man knows Sylvia is within ear shot—he hears mother telling her to take an umbrella—but his voice can’t reach her ears.

Does Sylvia even know who’s calling? No, mother doesn’t want her to so she utters “Thank you for calling, and, sir, won’t you call back again?”—a fake for Sylvia’s ears.

The “pleases” pile up but fall on deaf ears, but we hear them and by now we’re rooting for the poor guy.

As the call ends, he’s defeated and simply asks Mrs. Avery to please, please, please tell her goodbye. We’re left wondering—Does she?

No way.

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I was surprised to learn the lyrics were written by poet, author, cartoonist, the late Shel Silverstein. Silverstein wrote the lyrics and music for most of the Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show songs on their first few albums, including “The Cover of Rolling Stone”

Silverstein, it seems, was deeply in love with a gal named Sylvia Maria Pandolfi. When she decided to end the relationship and marry someone else, he struggled to accept it—and to salve his wound, wrote this song.

Sylvia’s mother said Sylvia’s busy
Too busy to come to the phone
Sylvia’s mother said Sylvia’s trying to start a new life of her own

Sylvia’s mother said Sylvia’s happy
So why don’t you leave her alone?
And the operator said 40 cents more for the next three minutes

Please, Mrs. Avery, I just gotta talk to her
I’ll only keep her a while
Please, Mrs. Avery, I just want to tell her goodbye

Sylvia’s mother said Sylvia’s packing
She’s gonna be leaving today
Sylvia’s mother said Sylvia’s marrying a fella down Galveston way

Sylvia’s mother said Sylvia’s happy
So why don’t you leave her alone?
And the operator said 40 cents more for the next three minutes

Please, Mrs. Avery, I just gotta talk to her
I’ll only keep her a while
Please, Mrs. Avery, I just want to tell her goodbye

Sylvia’s mother said Sylvia’s hurrying
She’s catching the nine o’clock train
Sylvia’s mother said, “Take your umbrella ‘cause Sylvia, it’s starting to rain
And Sylvia’s mother said, “Thank you for calling, and, sir, won’t you call back again?”
And the operator said 40 cents more for the next three minutes

Please, Mrs. Avery, I just gotta talk to her
I’ll only keep her a while
Please, Mrs. Avery, I just want to tell her goodbye

Tell her goodbye
Tell her goodbye
Tell her goodbye
Please, tell her goodbye

Here you go. Listen at your risk—it could get stuck in your head for a while.