It is the most successful song in history. Period. When you ask who sang the song White Christmas, the immediate, reflexive answer is Bing Crosby. His 1942 recording hasn't just topped the charts; it has practically defined the sound of the holiday season for over eighty years. The Guinness World Records literally lists it as the best-selling single of all time. We are talking about 50 million copies sold—and that isn't even counting the hundreds of cover versions that have popped up since the Truman administration.
But there is a weird, almost ghostly history behind those velvet vocals.
Most people don't realize that the version they hear on the radio today isn't actually the original 1942 master. Crosby had to re-record it in 1947 because the original wax master was literally worn out from pressing so many copies. Think about that. The world wanted this song so badly they broke the physical equipment used to make it. That 1947 session is the one that stuck. It’s the one with the Trotter Orchestra and the Ken Darby Singers providing those ethereal, snowy backing vocals.
The Man Behind the Voice
Bing Crosby wasn't even sure about the song at first. Irving Berlin, the legendary songwriter who couldn't read music and played only in the key of F-sharp, brought it to him in 1941. Berlin allegedly told his musical secretary, "Grab your pen and take down this song. I just wrote the best song I’ve ever written—heck, I just wrote the best song that anybody’s ever written!"
He wasn't wrong.
Crosby premiered it on his NBC radio show, The Kraft Music Hall, on Christmas Day in 1941. This was just weeks after the attack on Pearl Harbor. The timing was heavy. It was visceral. While Berlin wrote it while lounging by a pool at the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix (the "sun is shining, the grass is green" intro usually gets cut, but it explains the longing), the American public heard it through the lens of war.
Soldiers overseas clung to it. It wasn't just a catchy tune; it was a tether to a home that felt a million miles away. Crosby later remarked that he often felt melancholy singing it for the troops because it made them so homesick. He felt a huge responsibility. It wasn't just entertainment anymore.
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It Wasn't Just Bing: The Surprising Covers
While Crosby owns the throne, the list of who sang the song White Christmas expands into every genre imaginable. If you were a major artist in the 20th century, you sang this song. It was a rite of passage.
The Drifters turned it into a doo-wop masterpiece in 1954. If you’ve seen Home Alone, you know this version. Bill Pinkney’s deep bass notes trading off with Clyde McPhatter’s soaring tenor gave the song a rhythmic, playful energy that Irving Berlin actually hated at first. He reportedly tried to get it banned from the radio. Eventually, he came around when he saw the royalty checks. Money talks, even to legends.
Then you have Elvis Presley.
Elvis recorded it for his 1957 Christmas Album. This was a huge deal because Berlin, a bit of a traditionalist, supposedly hated Elvis's "lewd" style and tried to stop radio stations from playing the King's version of his masterpiece. He thought it was a travesty. Again, the public disagreed. Elvis’s version is bluesy, slightly stuttered, and incredibly cool.
A Timeline of Notable Voices
- Frank Sinatra (1944): Ol' Blue Eyes recorded it early on, but it never quite eclipsed Bing's. His version is more lush, more "big band" than the intimate Crosby take.
- The Supremes (1965): Motown magic. Diana Ross brings a certain sophisticated, shimmering pop quality to the lyrics.
- Otis Redding (1968): This is the one for the soul lovers. Recorded just before his death, it’s raw and powerful.
- Michael Bublé (2011): The modern era’s answer to Crosby. Bublé’s version (often a duet with Shania Twain) brought the song to a whole new generation of listeners who probably think 1942 was the Middle Ages.
The Secret Verse You Never Hear
Wait, there’s a whole section of the song most people don't know exists.
Most versions jump straight into "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas." But Berlin wrote an introductory verse that sets the scene in Beverly Hills. It talks about palm trees and the sun being hot. It’s a song about someone in California missing the cold.
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"The sun is shining, the grass is green, the orange and palm trees sway. There's never been such a day in Beverly Hills, L.A. But it's December the twenty-fourth, and I am longing to be up North."
Crosby cut it. Most artists followed suit. Why? Because the song is more universal without it. When you remove the California context, the song becomes about everyone’s memory of home, not just a guy in a hotel room in Phoenix. It made it timeless.
Why This Specific Song?
Technically, the song is a marvel. It’s incredibly simple. The melody is easy to hum. The range isn't too demanding. But the secret sauce is the "major-minor" shift. It sounds happy, but there is a deep, underlying sadness to the chord structure. It’s what musicians call "wistful."
Crosby’s voice was the perfect delivery system. He wasn't a "shouter" like the vaudeville singers before him. He was a crooner. He sang into the microphone as if he were whispering in your ear. In the 1940s, that was revolutionary technology meeting a revolutionary talent.
The Cultural Impact of the 1954 Film
You can't talk about who sang the song White Christmas without mentioning the movie of the same name. Interestingly, the song was already twelve years old when the movie came out. It had already won an Oscar for "Best Original Song" in the 1942 film Holiday Inn.
The 1954 film White Christmas cemented the song as a visual experience. Seeing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera-Ellen singing in that red-and-white finery as the fake snow falls on the Vermont set... that’s the image we carry. It’s high-definition nostalgia. It’s also where Rosemary Clooney (George Clooney’s aunt!) gave us one of the most beautiful, clear-toned versions of the song ever recorded.
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Modern Interpretations and the Charts
Every year, like clockwork, the song re-enters the Billboard charts. It doesn't matter that it’s nearly a century old.
In the last decade, we’ve seen Gwen Stefani, Taylor Swift, and even Pentatonix take a crack at it. Lady Gaga did a version that was surprisingly traditional. Each artist tries to find a new "pocket" for the melody, but they all eventually pay homage to the phrasing Crosby established.
There is a certain gravity to the song. It’s hard to mess up, but it’s almost impossible to better the 1947 Crosby master. It’s the gold standard.
Taking Action: How to Experience the Best Versions
If you really want to dive into the history of this track, don't just stick to the radio edits. There is a whole world of "White Christmas" out there that explains why we are still talking about it.
- Listen to the 1942 Original: Hunt down the actual 1942 recording (often found on "Original Decca" compilations). It’s slightly faster and has a different vocal energy than the 1947 version you’re used to.
- Watch 'Holiday Inn': Most people watch the movie White Christmas, but Holiday Inn is where the song was born. It provides a different context for the music.
- Compare the Drifters and Elvis: Listen to these two back-to-back to see how the song was used to bridge the gap between "traditional" pop and the birth of rock and roll.
- Check the Songwriting Credits: Look up Irving Berlin’s other works. Understanding that the man who wrote "God Bless America" also wrote this helps explain the song's deep patriotic resonance during WWII.
Ultimately, the song is a survivor. It survived the decline of sheet music, the rise of rock, the death of vinyl, and the shift to streaming. Whether it's the 1942 Decca recording or a 2024 Spotify upload, the core of the song—that longing for a simpler, whiter, more peaceful time—remains exactly the same. It is a three-minute time machine.
To truly appreciate the legacy, start by listening to the "lost" verse performed by artists like Bette Midler or the Carpenters. Hearing the California intro changes your perspective on the entire track. It transforms a snowy anthem into a song about distance and the universal desire to be somewhere else during the holidays. That realization is the key to why the song never dies. It isn't just about snow; it is about the ache of being away from where you belong. Regardless of who is behind the microphone, that is the truth that keeps the song at the top of the charts every December.