Photo by Mark Gaillard (courtesy)
Slim Gaillard was a noted American jazz singer, songwriter and actor who wrote a song about Laguna Beach.

Vout-O-Reenee: Laguna’s first coolness

By David Hansen
Editor, Under Laguna
September 15, 2021
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In the late 1980s a white Lincoln Town Car stretch limo pulled up to Laguna Beach. An eager driver got out and ambled to the rear, curbside door, where a tall, elegant man unfolded himself and adjusted his light silver suit. He had a salt-and-pepper beard and wore an ascot and jaunty beret.

He was Slim Gaillard, a noted American jazz singer, songwriter and actor. Gaillard walked confidently toward the lifeguard tower on Main Beach, where a group of civic leaders stood awkwardly by a small table.

Onlookers in high shorts and tube socks waited on the boardwalk as if they might be invited to play movie extras.

Off to the side, a saxophonist for Manhattan Transfer was trying his best to softly play “Laguna Oroonie,” the catchy song Gaillard had written for Laguna Beach in 1946 — and earned him a key to the city. Now, more than 40 years later, he was receiving a second award from the town as a thank you.

Then-Mayor Bob Gentry led the parade of handshakes and short speeches. Coincidentally, the event was filmed and later aired by the BBC as part of a longer documentary on Gaillard.

The scene, with the ultra cool Gaillard surrounded by a gaggle of government types, was both inexplicable and touching.

“I remember that,” said Gentry, now retired in Hawaii. “It was a nice event because he was so sincere about what he had done. That just kind of tugged at my heart strings.”

Gentry remembered how it was a classic Laguna moment back when the city was lovably iconoclastic.

“It was very Laguna. It was unique, it was fun-filled, it was whimsical, it was kind of artistic and then it had some good feeling to it,” he said. “Those words to me describe Laguna Beach perfectly — a little bling, a little sincerity, a little history. And I just thought it was wonderful.”

Perhaps it was all these things that made Gaillard write the song in the first place. Gaillard died in 1991, but according to his son, Mark, Gaillard always loved Laguna.

He used to escape from the rigors of Hollywood and drive to the beach. A known world traveler who was born in Cuba and was a bomber pilot in World War II, Gaillard had an affinity for water. He wanted to be buried in Laguna but the city didn’t have a cemetery.

Instead, he was laid to rest in the middle of the Newport Beach cemetery, Pacific View Memorial Park, which makes sense because Gaillard was always the center of the party.

“Slim was a wild and crazy guy,” his son said. “He was so fond of Laguna.”

In 2018, Universal Records released a double-CD compilation of Gaillard’s works called “Groove Juice.” Over the years, Gaillard played with Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and many others. He also appeared in several TV shows in the 1960s and 1970s.

There is one Gaillard fan who will doubtless be first in line for the new release.

Malcolm Warner, former executive director of the Laguna Art Museum, was known to drop Gaillard’s name at various events, including a stint on Laguna’s KX 93.5 radio station, where he played “Laguna Oroonie.”

“I’ve been talking about Slim and the Laguna song to anyone who’ll listen,” Warner said. “My dream is that one day Laguna Beach will adopt the song as its official anthem. What appeals to me about Slim is the combination of amazing, effortless musicianship and surrealistic humor.”

Gaillard’s son said his father spoke several languages but also made up his own: “Vout-O-Reenee.” He even created a dictionary for others.

Within the music industry, Gaillard remains a unique gem. In his day, he was a virtuoso who could play several instruments and charm everyone in the house. Today, you might catch his songs on the Henry Rollins show on KCRW.

“You know Henry Rollins,” Mark said. “He’s a huge fan of Slim. So he’s doing these shows on KCRW — with Black Flag and Iggy Pop and all this wild alternative rock — and then he plays Slim.”

Mark laughed and then added: “That’s Slim.”

In this age of musical chairs, where samples and stolen beats have blurred the generations, the Vout sound of the 1940s and ’50s is more than nostalgia.

It’s a place of movement, charisma and life. A place on the edge of the ocean, full of heart and whimsy.

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