COMPOSERS LIVINGSTON, EVANS KEEP ‘EM HUMMING

Back in the mid-’40s, when life was less complicated and traffic less congested, songwriter Jay Livingston was cruising down Hollywood Boulevard with his best girl, humming one of his and partner Ray Evans’ new tunes.

Livingston was troubled. After two weeks, the melody still wasn’t right. Continuing to hum, he ignored his date, concentrating instead on variations of the tune. Suddenly, it all worked.

“I pulled over and parked the car,” he said. “I had to write it down real fast.”

The song, “To Each His Own,” became the biggest hit of 1946, the girl became Mrs. Livingston and the prolific composers ultimately became famous.

The incident was one of many nostalgic moments recalled the other night, when Livingston and Evans visited the home of fellow composer Richard Sherman, who with his brother, Robert, also has helped keep the world humming happily over the years.

The get-together proved a warm-up for the composers’ scheduled appearances at L.A. Stage Co., West. Livingston and Evans will be joined there by Gary Crosby, Ralna English and Betty Hutton on Monday, and Richard Sherman is booked the following night.

Titled “Composers on Canon--40 Years of Movie Music,” (an extension of the “Concerts on Canon” series), the programs will include anecdotes, vintage clips from their movies and a sampling of their music, which has garnered five Oscars.

The two Sherman Oscars--for the “Mary Poppins” score and the song “Chim Chim Cheree”--were prominently displayed on a piano, one of two in the house.

Livingston and Evans won their prestigious awards for “Buttons and Bows,” “Mona Lisa” and “Que Sera Sera,” in that order.

After 40 years in the business, Livingston and Evans have compiled a list of credits that looks like a telephone directory--seven Oscar nominations (including “Tammy” and “Dear Heart”), at least 100 movies (mostly at Paramount, where they were under contract for a decade), TV (“Bonanza” and “Mister Ed” themes, among others), four Broadway productions and three local stage shows.

Their recordings, say those who keep track of such things, have sold more than 250 million copies.

“As you get older you get lazy,” Evans said. “The fun is gone.”

Nonetheless, they remain relatively active, writing special material for Bob Hope (an “old relationship”), doing charity shows and, in Livingston’s case, overseeing his music publishing company in Nashville, Tenn., run by his daughter, Travilyn. Meanwhile, the composers continue to cash in on former glories.

“Financially, this has been the best year we’ve ever had,” Livingston said. “Our songs are selling like crazy. Willie Nelson recorded ‘Golden Earrings,’ ‘To Each His Own’ and ‘Mona Lisa.’ It’s not as much fun, but financially we’re not complaining.”

A recently signed one-year contract with Honda, giving the automotive company rights to “Que Sera Sera” (melody only), brought the writers a tidy $100,000. Portions of the popular ballad, sung by Doris Day in “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” can be heard in a current TV commercial . . . but only if you listen closely.

“It’s played quietly in the background,” Livingston said, shrugging indifferently.

Although much of the excitement may be gone, the memories linger--some rather fresh.

Evans recalled a fairly recent trip to Burma, where a tour guide told him he had “fallen in love” with “To Each His Own” and that the song remains among his favorites.

A few years earlier, Evans heard a band at a “luxurious” hotel in Afghanistan play “Que Sera Sera” and “Mona Lisa.” Afghanistan?

It’s true--even there.

Livingston remembered a trip in the late ‘40s to a mountainous hideaway in Guatemala--a place called Chichicastenango--where he heard a group play an obscure song (“Kitty”) they had written for an even more obscure Paramount movie of the same name.

“I couldn’t understand how they could know that song,” Livingston said. “It was never recorded.”

The answer: “Somebody had brought in the sheet music.”

And, once in Salzburg, Austria, Livingston encountered a window washer merrily going about his work while humming “ . . . whatever will be will be.”

“You cannot buy that gratification,” Evans said.

It was about half a century ago when Livingston (from McDonald, Pa., outside Pittsburgh) first met Evans (from Salamanca, N.Y.) at the University of Pennsylvania.

They left school to play in a band on a cruise-ship line that took them around the world, finally settling in New York, where they drew up a piano bench and got serious about songwriting. Almost immediately, they were on their way.

“Our tastes are similar,” said Evans, who writes only the lyrics, leaving the melodies to his partner. “And we both like good music and song.”

But, for the most part, that’s where their similarities end.

Physically as contrasting as Mutt and Jeff--Livingston is 6-foot-3, his partner 5-foot-10--they are, in Evans’ words, “not the least bit alike. I’m nuts about sports, play baseball and tennis every weekend; Jay couldn’t care less. He’s restrained and quiet; I’m more outward going. Jay is a marvelous musician; I have a tin ear. . . .”

Nonetheless, Jay and Ray--born six weeks apart 70 years ago and married a month apart 38 years ago to Lynne and Wyn, respectively--have remained inseparable in their profession from the start.

“But we’ve had our battles along the way,” Evans said.

Their worst battle, both agreed, occurred in 1961, when their Broadway play, “Let It Ride,” starring George Gobel, was having problems. The show closed after six weeks.

“A couple of days we weren’t speaking,” said Livingston, who was hospitalized for a week after an asthma attack brought on by stress. “I was just on edge. I was fighting with everybody.”

Despite occasional friction, their formula for success seems amazingly simple, to hear them describe the creative process that gets their juices flowing.

Evans (“I don’t compose; I’m a sounding board”) writes a couple of pages of poetic words, then Livingston (“The toughest part is getting started”) sits at the piano and experiments with melodies that eventually fit.

For example, the “basic framework” for “To Each His Own,” Livingston said, was his partner’s phrase “two lips must insist on two more to be kissed.”

“No one dreamed it would become such a monstrous hit,” Livingston added with a trace of pride.

The song was so popular that Billboard magazine listed five different versions in the Top 10 one week in 1946, Evans recalled--by Eddie Howard (No. 1), Tony Martin, Freddie Martin, the Modernaires and the Ink Spots.

Still, Evans, at least, admitted his career hasn’t been totally fulfilling.

“I have no regrets,” he said, then added with a ring of seriousness, “but I would rather have been a good pro athlete.”