How I Came To Love Karen Carpenter

When I was young, I’d listen to the radio. I can still remember my earliest experiences with it. I didn’t have any particular favorites at the time. The radio was something my beehive-coiffed mom used to play, and she always got excited when Diana Ross and The Supremes or Martha and the Vandellas came on. She was a big fan of Motown girl groups.

I started listening to the radio on my own when I was ten, in the spring of 1970. I lit up when “Easy Come, Easy Go” by Bobby Sherman played. I knew the song word for word.

Backing up to 1968, my family moved into our first house. This was a thrilling time—we finally had our own backyard.

I began third grade at a new school. On the first day of class, I noticed this peculiar kid sitting in the front row, constantly putting his wrist up to his nose and sniffing it.

I found this to be quite an odd behavior, so at recess, I approached him and said, “Hello, I noticed that you were smelling your wrist in class.”

“Yes,” he answered happily, “I like the smell of the soap. It smells good.”

The kid's name was Kevin, and from that moment, we spent the rest of recess talking. He told me how he wanted to produce a horror movie but needed an actor.

Kevin and I quickly became best friends, and I became his subject. I was the actor in his horror film. He had me do several scenes, like filming me with blood coming out of my mouth (we used ketchup for that). In another scene, I lay on the floor, supposedly dead at the bottom of a staircase. He also had me walking past an old Gothic house that looked haunted. It was a lot of fun, though we never finished the film because I kept trying to add humor. Kevin would get upset, but I couldn’t help it—I was a comedic sort of person.

Kevin was a huge fan of music. His family had a sizable record collection, mostly classical music and 1940s standards. I remember one afternoon, he was excited to play me a record. It was December 29, 1971—my 12th birthday. For my birthday, my mom let me spend the day with Kevin. His parents even had a little cake for me, and we had a lovely time. It was my first birthday away from my family.

Kevin played the record, and from the very first note, I was mesmerized. It started with a delicately haunting piano melody, followed by the shimmering perfection of the singer’s voice—deep, rich, and filled with emotion.

He asked if I knew who it was. Embarrassed, I admitted I didn’t. He told me it was the Carpenters and that the singer was Karen Carpenter. I felt silly, as they were one of the most popular groups at the time, and everyone knew Karen Carpenter.

Kevin made a point to tell me the song was called “Bless the Beasts and Children,” the B-side to the number one hit “Superstar.”

That day marked the beginning of my love affair with Karen Carpenter. I spent hours twirling the radio dial, listening for her voice. This wasn’t difficult, as the Carpenters were on their sixth consecutive Top Three hit. Karen’s voice serenaded the airwaves almost hourly.

Every time that radiant voice graced my radio, it was pure magic. Her voice had an almost hypnotic quality, placing me in a trance-like state. I couldn’t get enough of her, I was enchanted by the surreal feeling that embraced me whenever I heard her sing.

A few months passed, and by July 4th of 1972, my family took a trip to Zodys, a local department store. Zodys was a modest chain with about 50 stores, mostly in California. Some of you reading this may remember it.

As we stepped into the store, I felt an immediate sense of relief, escaping the upper 80s heat outside. After a few steps, I noticed the record section with what seemed like endless bins of albums and 8-track tapes. I scuttled over as my family headed to the clothing department.

This was my first experience browsing through bins of music, and for the next 30 minutes, I was in my own little heaven. I had $13 of my own money, earned from doing odd jobs and selling flowers on street corners. The 8-track tapes were $4.97 each, so I had enough for two. My choices were David Cassidy’s Cherish, Blood, Sweat & Tears’ Greatest Hits, and the Carpenters’ recently released A Song For You. Not wanting to borrow $5 from my mom, I put back the David Cassidy tape and bought the other two.

When we exited the store, my mom handed me a small Zodys bag and told me she had bought me a special treat. I thought it might be some chocolates - I am a big fan of chocolate. When I opened the bag, I was deeply moved - my mom had bought me the David Cassidy tape. She said she saw me put it back and wanted to surprise me. I love my mom she's a special kind of person.

Over the next few weeks, I played my 8-track tapes countless times. I knew every song by heart, but the Carpenters’ tape occupied most of my music time. Each song was a gem and came to life within me. “Road Ode,” “A Song For You,” and “I Won’t Last A Day Without You” were my favorites.

By 1975, I owned every Carpenters album on both 8-track and vinyl, along with several singles. I was obsessed with the sheer beauty of Karen’s voice. I couldn’t fathom how anyone could have such a transcendent voice. I would stare at photos of her, looking deep into her eyes. There was something in her eyes that I didn’t see in other pop stars—Olivia Newton-John, Anne Murray, Helen Reddy, etc. There was a sincere innocence, a sadness. At the time, I had no idea of the emotional struggles Karen faced, but I heard it in her voice. There was something extra in her eyes and voice that set her apart. Karen Carpenter was a rare and special singer, there was no one else like her.

I remember when I bought the album Horizon. I was 15 years old and took the bus to the Wherehouse, a popular Southern California music store. I walked in wearing my brand-new Earth Shoes and went directly to pick up the album. When I got to the front counter, the cashier questioned me, “Are you sure you want this record?” Confused, I answered, “Yes.” I paid, but his comment stayed with me. I later discovered that the Carpenters were considered "uncool" by some and had received lukewarm reviews from certain critics. Up until then, I had only read positive things in local papers or scholastic publications.

In a 1975 in a Rolling Stone magazine review of Horizon, critic Stephen Holden wrote, “While not an emotionally compelling singer, Karen Carpenter has developed into a fine vocal technician.” I was shocked. To me, Karen was the epitome of emotion and depth.

Horizon was a fantastic step forward for the Carpenters—a bold and mature sound. Every song was top-notch, and it quickly became my favorite Carpenters album. It remains my favorite to this day (along with Karen’s solo album). Every track is special, but “(I’m Caught Between) Goodbye and I Love You” is my favorite. Karen put so much emotion into that song, making it feel autobiographical.

February 4, 1983, is a day I’ll never forget. I was watching TV with my roommate, Joyce, when a breaking news flash interrupted our program. A picture of Karen Carpenter appeared on the screen, and the announcer said she had died at the age of 32. I was stunned. Joyce and I flipped through channels until we found a news station that confirmed it—Karen had passed away. Her battle with anorexia nervosa, which had lasted about 10 years, has since been well-documented. She died from complications related to the disorder.

Her memory lives on, and her music continues to sell in the millions. Karen Carpenter has gone on to be regarded as one of the finest vocalists of all time.

This is the way I choose to remember Karen - upbeat and happy!

🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼

With Love, RHC ❤️