It was the night of November 10, 1938. The world was on edge. Hitler was goose-stepping across Europe, and the Great Depression had left Americans feeling pretty hollowed out. Into this mess stepped a woman with a voice like a pipe organ. Kate Smith wasn't just a singer; she was the "First Lady of Radio," a powerhouse who could command millions of listeners with a single note. When she stood before the CBS microphone that evening to premiere a "new" song by Irving Berlin, nobody knew they were about to hear what would basically become the country's second national anthem.
The Song That Almost Stayed in a Trunk
Believe it or not, Kate Smith singing God Bless America almost never happened. Irving Berlin actually wrote the tune way back in 1918. He was a sergeant at Camp Upton at the time, putting together a soldier show called Yip, Yip, Yaphank. He thought the song was a bit too "gilded" or self-important for a comedy revue. So, he stuffed it in a trunk. It stayed there for twenty years. Imagine that. One of the most famous songs in history was gathering dust while Berlin wrote hits like "Alexander's Ragtime Band."
In 1938, as the "storm clouds" (Berlin's words) gathered over Europe, he felt the urge to write a peace song. He tried to write something fresh called "Thanks America," but honestly? It was terrible. He tore it up. Then he remembered the old 1918 scrap. He pulled it out, made some tweaks to the lyrics to make it less about war and more about a prayer for peace, and the rest is history.
He changed the line "to the right" to "through the night." Why? Because by 1938, "the right" had started to mean something very different in the context of European fascism. He wanted a song that belonged to everyone.
That Iconic First Performance
When Kate Smith's manager, Ted Collins, asked Berlin for something patriotic for her Armistice Day broadcast, Berlin handed over the revised manuscript. Smith’s introduction that night was humble but heavy with meaning. She told her audience:
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"And now it’s going to be my very great privilege to sing for you a song that’s never been sung before by anybody... it’s something more than a song—I feel it’s one of the most beautiful compositions ever written."
She wasn't exaggerating. Her contralto voice—deep, rich, and unmistakably sincere—turned those simple lyrics into a collective plea. The reaction was instant. People didn't just like it; they were obsessed. By 1939, the sheet music was flying off shelves, and the song reached #5 on the charts.
More Than Just a Radio Hit
For a long time, Kate Smith was the only one allowed to record the song. Berlin was very protective of it. He didn't want dance bands turning it into a swing tune or politicians using it to divide people. He even set up the God Bless America Fund, which still to this day funnels royalties to the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. He didn't make a dime off the song's success. He felt that as an immigrant who had "made good," he owed it to the country.
Smith's version became a staple of American life. During World War II, she sold more war bonds than perhaps any other entertainer—over $600 million worth. Think about that for a second. In today's money, that is an astronomical sum. She was a force of nature.
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The Sports Connection
If you're a hockey fan, you know exactly why Kate Smith singing God Bless America is a legendary part of sports lore. Specifically, the Philadelphia Flyers. In the late 1960s, the team was struggling. They started playing her record instead of the national anthem, and they started winning. A lot.
It became a "lucky charm." Smith eventually showed up to sing it live at the Spectrum. The Flyers' record when she sang (either live or on tape) was famously dominant. She became an honorary part of the team, and a statue of her was even erected outside the arena in 1987.
The Complicated Legacy
History is messy. You can't talk about Kate Smith today without acknowledging why her statue isn't there anymore. In 2019, some of her recordings from the early 1930s—specifically "That’s Why Darkies Were Born" and "Pickaninnies’ Heaven"—resurfaced. To modern ears, they are deeply offensive.
The Flyers removed her statue, and the New York Yankees stopped playing her 1939 recording during the seventh-inning stretch. It sparked a massive debate. Some argued she was a product of her time, performing songs that were common in the vaudeville era. Others pointed out that she later spoke out against racial and religious prejudice in the 1950s.
It’s a classic case of how we grapple with historical figures who were once universally beloved. Does a performance of a song like "God Bless America" get erased by earlier, problematic work? There's no easy answer, and people are still split on it.
Why the Song Persists
Despite the controversies, the recording itself remains a touchstone. After the 9/11 attacks, people didn't reach for a pop hit or a complicated ballad. They went back to Kate Smith singing God Bless America. Why?
Maybe it’s the simplicity. There are no vocal gymnastics. No "American Idol" riffs. Just a woman with a big voice singing a simple prayer.
- Simplicity: The lyrics are easy to remember.
- Vulnerability: It starts as a quiet hymn before the big finish.
- Unity: It was written by a Jewish immigrant and made famous by a Christian woman from Virginia.
It's a "peace song" that ended up being the soundtrack to a century of conflict.
Actionable Insights for History Buffs
If you want to really understand the impact of this performance, don't just read about it.
- Listen to the original 1938 broadcast. You can find snippets of the radio introduction online. Hearing her speak before she sings gives the performance a whole different weight.
- Compare the lyrics. Look at Berlin's 1918 draft versus the 1938 version. The change from "victorious on land and foam" to "guide her through the night" tells you everything you need to know about how the country's mood shifted between the two World Wars.
- Check out the 1943 film "This Is the Army." Smith appears as herself, recreating that 1938 radio moment. It’s a fascinating look at wartime propaganda and the genuine emotion people felt toward the song at the time.
The story of Kate Smith and Irving Berlin is a reminder that sometimes, the "scraps" we throw away—those ideas we put in a trunk—are exactly what the world needs twenty years later. It took the right voice and the right moment to turn a rejected soldier tune into a piece of the American soul.
To truly appreciate the nuance of this era, look into the God Bless America Fund. It's one of the few examples of a songwriter completely divesting from their most successful work for the sake of the public good. It keeps the song's legacy tied to service rather than profit.