Recording The Gilligan's Island Theme Song Was As Slapstick As The Show Itself

"The Ballad of Gilligan's Island," penned by executive producer and show creator Sherwood Schwartz and songwriter George Wyle holds the distinction of being the best TV theme song of all time. It might only be tied with the theme song to "The Brady Bunch" ... which was also co-written by Schwartz. In both cases, the theme songs cleverly weave earworm-ready melodies into explicit descriptions of the show's premise. In only 55 seconds, audiences learn that they're about to watch a sitcom about seven stranded castaways on a tropical island, how those castaways got there, and who each of the castaways are. "The Ballad of Gilligan's Island" is both hummable and functional. Even the amazing surf guitars of "The Munsters" or the wicked pip organs of "Tales from the Crypt" cannot approach the utilitarian glories of "Gilligan." 

The first season theme song famously omitted the names of the Professor (Russell Johnson) and Mary Ann (Dawn Wells), referring to them only as "and the rest." That version of the theme was performed by a folk group called the Wellingtons, who were regulars on the 1964 music program "Shindig!" The Wellingtons were also amenable to performing for major entertainment studios, having also performed the music for "Davy Crockett," and "The Wonderful World of Disney." The Wellingtons have also toured with Stevie Wonder, The Supremes, and Annette Funicello. 

Back in 1997, Sherwood Schwartz sat for a six-hour interview with the Television Academy about his long and prolific career in the medium. He talked about writing for "The Red Skelton Show," and creating "Gilligan's Island," "It's About Time," "The Brady Bunch," and "Dusty's Trail." He also shared an amusing anecdote about the initial recording session of "The Ballad of Gilligan's Island," which, he recalls, required a whistle and a lot of stumbling waiters (!). 

When still working out the theme song, Schwartz initially dabbled with a calypso sound and was working with an upcoming composer named John Williams. It seems that Williams' calypso tune was wrong for what Schwartz wanted and turned to Wyle to help out. Williams incidentally, also wrote some incidental music for the series but was quickly replaced by a more experienced composer named Gerald Fried. When Schwartz and Wyle got together, they settled on the sea shanty sound the theme song currently has. It was Wyle who knew the Wellingtons, and he was able to get them into a recording studio quickly to get a track recorded ASAP. 

It needed to be done ASAP, as it seems that Schwartz was working under a deadline. The Wellingtons were able to come over that day ... but it was a Sunday and none of the local recording studios were open. Schwartz, however, did know an industry bigwig who just happened to have a recording studio at his home. As he explained: 

"So one Sunday, on this particular day they came over to my house and rehearsed it a few times, they all played guitars and that's how it was done, the song. And so they said, 'Well, how can we get it recorded?' I don't have a recording facility and it's Sunday, nobody does. Well, my friend Mel Shavelson [...] has as complete recording facilities as anybody. He is very much into technical stuff, which I am not."

The next step was getting permission to use Shavelson's studio. It came with a few stipulations: record fast, and stay out of the way of the massive, catered charity event Shavelson had agreed to host. The crunch had begun. 

Schwartz recalled talking to Shavelson:

"I called him and said, 'Can we use your house for an hour or so to record something?' He said, 'Well,' he said, 'Okay, but we have ... it's a big charity event going on here, and the waiters are coming over, there's a lot of tables being set up,' they had donated their house for some charity event. [...] I said, 'Well, we'll only be a little while. A minute.' The whole song is only a minute. [...] And they mean 60 seconds, that's it."

This is where things got wacky. As you can imagine, setting up a charity event makes a lot of noise, as waiters and caterers will be constantly bustling about. This is not conducive to recording. Luckily, Shavelson's wife had an efficient — and hilarious V way for getting the yard quiet. Schwartz continued: 

"[W]e went over to his house, and it was like a Marx Brothers picture because we're recording a song, waiters are setting tables and the dishes are clattering and the silverware. So Lucy, his wife, had a whistle, and she blew the whistle and they had to stop doing this while we recorded this song."

It may have been frantic, but it worked.

"It was such a crazy way to record the song. [...] [B]ecause she blew the whistle and they stopped work and we recorded it once and it wasn't quite right, it was 64 seconds or whatever it was. But we kept doing it over and over and they kept setting the table and then stopping, it was such a funny thing. But that's how we recorded this song."

Start-and-stop. Whistles. Last-minute waiter wrangling. It all led to one of the greatest songs of all time. It was worth it. We wonder if the intended remake will be able to do the same.