When
I heard that Pete Seeger had passed at age 94, I realized I’d seen him perform live
more than I had any other musician. It’s not because I always raced out to get
tickets for his shows. It’s because for decades, if there was a demonstration or a benefit concert for a good cause Pete lent his services. Enthusiastically.
Whether the event was to protest the
Vietnam War, an infringement of civil rights or the Kissinger-engineered coup
in Chile -- whether it was organized to demand cleanup of the Hudson River, to end
nuclear proliferation or to protect the disenfranchised from the privileged in
any way -- I knew I was going to hear Pete Seeger, and be happily singing along
with him. If I was close enough to the
stage, I could read the inscription on his banjo: “This machine kills
Fascists.” That always tickled me as
much as the sound effects we all made with our mouths when Pete had us do our
parts on “Coming ‘round the Mountain.”
Indeed, Pete Seeger inspired everyone in
my generation who ever wanted to do some good while working in the
entertainment industry. Sure, many of us, long ago, read Jean-Paul Sartre on
the subject of artistic “engagement.” Most of us are familiar with the Zen idea
of “right livelihood.” And we all admire
the writers, poets, musicians and actors who generously donate time, energy and
money to promote good causes. But for Pete, the good of the planet and the
death of Fascism were fulltime occupations; he was the one to emulate.
He weathered the McCarthy era blacklist
(refusing to name names to the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1955)
and CBS censorship (when they cut his Vietnam War protest song “Waist Deep in
Big Muddy” from a 1967 appearance on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour). His refusal to compromise was downright
heroic.
Both his personal stands and his music
roused people to action. And many of his
songs -- including “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” “Turn, Turn, Turn,” “If I
Had a Hammer,” “Bring ‘em Home” and “We Shall Overcome” -- became so anthemic people
forgot he wrote them.
In addition to entertaining with his great
original tunes, Pete Seeger taught his listeners the basic twentieth century
folk canon. Most of us who know Woody
Guthrie’s songs (from “Union Maid” to “This Land is Your Land”), Leadbelly’s
(from “Goodnight, Irene” to “Blue Tail Fly”) and those of rebellious slaves and
labor organizers, heard them first when Pete sang them.
So, too with what is now called “world
music.” In 1950, his adaption of the
Hebrew folk song, “Tzena, Tzena, Tzena” became a Number 2 hit for his quartet, The
Weavers. A year later, the group had
another top seller with Pete’s adaptation of the South African chant, “Wimoweh,”
which I first heard morphed into The Tokens’ “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” In 1966, his adaptation of the iconic Cuban ditty “Guantanamera” became a hit for a band called The Sandpipers.
Of the above, I’m fondest of “Tzena,
Tzena, Tzena.” In the extremely assimilationist Jewish household of my
childhood, it was the only Hebrew-language record. So I not only learned folk music and world
music from a political hero, he taught me a little Hebrew as well.
Many young film buffs, I’m sure, think
they don’t know Pete Seeger’s music. But they probably do without knowing it. The banjo, whistling and yodeling theme played throughout RAISING ARIZONA
is Carter Burwell’s arrangement of Pete’s “Goofing Off Suite.” Joel and Ethan Coen grew up listening to the
record and knew, even in pre-production, it would be a perfect underscore for
their yarn about the ne’er-do-well H.I. McDunnough.
Pete had other connections to cinema, too,
and I found them all exciting. He played
himself, at Woody Guthrie’s bedside, in Arthur Penn’s ALICE’S RESTAURANT, and
he lent the scene warmth and authenticity… his
warmth and authenticity. In Murray
Lerner’s 1967 documentary, FESTIVAL, later excerpted in Martin Scorsese’s 2005
Dylan doc NO DIRECTION HOME, Pete looks on, beaming like a proud father, as Bob
Dylan leads a songwriting workshop.
He was the subject of the 2007 film, PETE
SEEGER: THE POWER OF SONG, and he graced the screen in Lewis Lapham’s THE
AMERICAN RULING CLASS. He was featured
in LOMAX THE SONGHUNTER, ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE: THE STORY OF POPULAR MUSIC, THE
BALLAD OF RAMBLIN’ JACK ELLIOT and LET FREEDOM RING: HOW MUSIC INSPIRED THE
CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT. Whenever he
appeared on screen he was more than just an avuncular presence; he seemed to
personify an essential goodness, a true and profound heroism.
So… another great hero, made from a mold
that was broken long ago, is gone. He
will be missed. His many achievements,
including a radical cleanup of the Hudson River, will be remembered and rightly
lauded. And, thank goodness, he’ll be
discovered and rediscovered because his work has been preserved in recorded
music and movies.
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