Karen Carpenter: Little Girl Blue

I was fortunate to have seen the Crocker Bank TV commercial in southern California back in 1970 that led to the Carpenter's break-out single, We've Only Just Begun. In the commercial the bank was on a mission to attract young people and staged a wedding with a shortened version of the song playing in the background. It wasn't originally intended for the Carpenters but was so powerful that writers Paul Williams and Roger Nichols built a complete song from it. With Richard Carpenter's beautiful arrangement, the song became a smash hit.

The new book, Little Girl Blue: The Life of Karen Carpenter by Randy L. Schmidt, captures a much deeper, complex person than what most people think of Karen: a goody-two-shoes kind of character. Along with her brother Richard, Karen's image was maintained by a strict, hovering mother who made certain that family secrets stayed just that. Mother Agnes, and all but silent father, Harold, maintained a comfortable home for the family on the East Coast, and in 1963, made a move from New Haven, Connecticut to Downey, California, just to foster Richards growing musical talents. Little did the family know, the younger sister who tagged along was to be the center of attention a few years later with the smoky, sultry voice that has endured into classic status.

It seems the troubles that led to her untimely death were a combination of deep insecurity and the claustrophobic home life that smothered her until the end. Her good pal Frenda Franklin once asked her, "You don't know, do you?" Karen was clueless. "You don't know how talented you are because, if you did, you wouldn't be intimidated by others."

Her super-stardom, marriage and eventual solo project never quite filled the deficits deep in her heart, and by April of 1982, evidence of severe anorexia was striking even after therapy. She eventually gained 30 pounds (this is disputed) and on December 17, 1982, Karen made her final public appearance in Sherman Oaks, California.

On February 4, 1983, just weeks away from her 33rd birthday, Karen succumbed to heart failure. Her funeral was on February 8th and she was laid to rest in Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Cypress, California.

The sadness of her death comes to mind each time I hear her beautiful voice flowing from the greatest hits records I have of the duo. One of my favorite CDs is Carpenter's Christmas, which is a staple for me and my family during the Holidays.

There are so many stories from families like the Jacksons and the Wilsons, of Beach Boys fame, that prove the sunny, southern California dream isn't an antidote for troubled hearts. I grew up in the midst of it and know that to be true. Sometimes the romantic images of the beach and the orange groves, Hollywood and music are only what we want them to be. I find that when people move to places where they think their lives will be improved, they only carry their troubles to a new climate.

In any case, Karen Carpenter is a classic. I wonder where she would be today if only her heart found rest while alive.