Thanks to the Seegers for reminding us that music is a natural way to approach life

My dear brother clipped and sent me an article from the Chicago Sun Times from 17 March 2014 (sometimes it takes my bro a bit of time to send me the things he believes I’ll be interested in . . . but I’m equally as guilty, having just sent him a gift I purchased for him back in about that same year and month). The article on pages 28 and 29 is titled “Love between a Brother and Sister.” Maybe he saw it and thought of us, clipping it to remind me of the relationship we’ve shared for over 66 years. He’s a good guy to think of me in that way (if that’s not what caught his eye, I’ll just pretend it is). Maybe the most impressive part of this “gift” is that my brother obviously read the article before sending it to me, which I know because he marked a section he thought was particularly interesting and would be of similar interest to me. He was right.

The article is about Peggy Seeger, who was to be a performer at the Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago about the time the article was published. The author, Mark Guarino, interviewed her about her familial connection to Pete Seeger and the music world, in general. Peggy lives in New Zealand now, but has long been part of the “folk scene” in America. I have seen Peggy in concert a few times over the years from the mid-1960s on and have always enjoyed her performances. Peggy and Pete were half-siblings, Pete being the elder (he passed away at age 94 in 2014). I cannot count the number of times I have enjoyed Pete in concert, even, once, having the opportunity to him with his sister in a joint performance. So many years and so many songs ago.

I’ve been making music with friends and family just about since I could talk. My father got me singing when I was three or four years old and I memorized the songs that I was too young to read. He’d play piano while I’d sing. When I visited my paternal grandparents, my grandmother got me singing the “Jesus songs” and my grandfather would teach me songs from his southern roots (decidedly not about Jesus and completely politically incorrect today). Then as I got older I started playing instruments (Dad tried to teach me the piano, but it was an exercise in futility – no fault of his; we didn’t know then about dyslexia and it’s negative effect on my ability to read notes). I first played my grandfather’s harpeleik – a Swedish zither, which he eventually gave to me, and then I graduated to ukulele and harmonica and, finally, guitar. But I also picked up the banjo about the same time, learning with some “instruction” from a public television program of Pete’s. In fact, it was Pete’s book on learning to read music that has aided me in some of my understanding of theory (I also took a couple of college courses in the subject, many years later). So I guess my brother’s kindness in sending me that article has brought me back to my childhood – at least in memory.

And what I just wrote connects to one of Peggy’s responses to the interviewer’s questions. Quoting her from that article about music in general and folk music in particular, she says: “We’re all unique and we have our own potential. And there’s music in essentially every child that’s born. But it’s snuffed out by becoming a consumer instead of a producer. Because our educational system teaches us to be a consumer; it does not teach us, on the whole, to produce . . . What Pete said was, ‘You can do this, you can make up music, you can sing music.’ How simple it is to make a song yourself. And the act of creation is intensely important to human beings. It really is. Intensely. You feel better, you walk more tall, you get along better with other people, you feel that life is your own unique thing as well as a community thing. Pete brought out this individualism, he also brought out the community singing together. So it’s global and local, it’s large and small, it’s personal and general.”

 Peggy Seeger, 2011, Salford, England. Photo from Wikipedia.

(If you aren't familiar with Peggy and her music, here is a recording of her, singing the song her husband, Ewan MacColl, who died in 1989, wrote for here: "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." To read about Peggy's amazing life, check out her memoir book: First Time Ever, available in Kindle format from Amazon.)

I’ve been writing songs since high school (my first efforts were in Math class, since I did each lesson the night before with my father as the teacher – nothing our instructor said was new to me, so I wrote songs). I’ve been adding verses to songs already written by others to make them more personal or connect them to my topic, in the case of using music in my genealogy presentations. Back in the 1960s, Pete encouraged his readers (of “Johnny Appleseed, Jr.,” his column in Sing Out! magazine) to add verses to Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.” I tried my hand at that and sent the result to Pete (see blog post from 11 August 2011) and he kept it and printed it in a book dealing with the history of folk music (giving me appropriate credit, of course).

Pete Seeger, 1955. Photo from Wikipedia

When we were kids, my brother (who is six years my senior) would make up songs to tunes we already knew, then teach them to me. We sang about our stuffed animals and their adventures. We sang commercial jingles together. And, I’m pleased to say, my father recorded us, so those early attempts at being budding composers and performers would not be lost. Of course, neither of us will play those recordings for anyone, but we had fun and the music filled the gap of the half dozen years that separated us in most everything else (we did not even attend the same school except for two years of our lives, and that was only because I went to pre-kindergarten and kindergarten at his elementary school . . . but we were on different floors and had different start and dismissal times, so we really didn’t even notice each other unless Mom drove us both to school, which she rarely did). Even “all-school” activities and assemblies omitted the little kindergarteners, which I’m sure was met with approval by all those bigger kids from upstairs.

Speaking of school, my favorite time in school was music. The music teacher would come in, often with some marvelous item we could use to make music. Or our art teacher would instruct us in making such an item – I remember most vividly the “sand blocks,” but I know there was an oatmeal container that miraculously became a drum. Sometimes the music teacher let us choose the songs. Sometimes we’d learn something new and I’d share those with my Dad (who, of course, already knew the songs) and we’d “do” them together.

My point here is that music is, as Peggy said, personal, and it becomes a panacea for some of the stressful events that we must endure in various arenas in our lives. When I sing a song, I find myself forgetting the nitty gritty for a moment (I know it will still be there when my music time comes to an end, but an escape, even for just a few minutes, can make the inevitable “crap” much less “crappy”). It’s just my opinion, but it’s been working for over 60 years of my life.

Sing on and stay in tune! 

Looking for more information on the Seegers? Check the Library of Congress.

Connecting Past to Present via Music

In 1966, singer Pete Seeger began plans to literally launched a project to clean up the Hudson River in New York. He and a group of supporters and workers put together a period sloop - named the Clearwater - which would sail up and down the Hudson, bringing music and a message to the folks along the waterway. The message: "Let's return the river to its former, clean, state." They funded the project through donations and sales of sails - people could (and still can) join in the fun by taking a sail up the river. And meanwhile, the whole thing inspired folks to create cleaner waterways. Getting a first-hand look at the need to keep the environment protected has made a great impact and the Hudson is looking great! The Sloop Clearwater, launched in 1969, provides an educational, enjoyable, and exciting experience that continues to inspire into the latest generations. The sloop is fashioned after those that brought goods up and down the river in the 1860s and earlier years.

I first learned about the project shortly after fund-raising began. I was in high school and followed Pete Seeger's career fairly closely (his father, Charles, was the first person I'd heard of with a PhD in folklore and so was my inspiration to get the same, which I did in 2008). For reasons I didn't understand at the time, Pete's desire to clean up that particular river (which I had never, to my recollection, ever seen and which was far away from where I lived in suburban Chicago) really touched me.

I hosted a mini-folk festival in my hometown of Wilmette, Illinois in August of 1968, sponsored by my church. The sloop had yet to make its maiden voyage and I made a plea for the proceeds of our little event to be donated to the project. The church committee turned me down for two reasons: 1) the project might never come to fruition and 2) it was not connected to our community in any way. I reluctantly chose another (local) charity to receive our small profits and sent my own donation to the Clearwater project. I was headed into my last year of high school so I imagine my donation was rather small, but it was heartfelt. (Say, if they could conquer the Hudson, maybe they could turn attention to the Chicago River next . . . or, maybe not.)

Pete had a column ("Johnny Appleseed, Jr.") in the folk music magazine Sing Out! and there he encouraged young singers and songwriters to keep messages and stories flowing in our music. At one point, he featured a number of alternate verses to Woody Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land." Even Woody had many additional verses that never made it into the mainstream singing of his song. I had played around with the song myself and had written a verse inspired by Pete's beloved Hudson River. By that time, the Sloop had launched and I was excited to learn that the first voyages were well-received (hoping some day to have my own opportunity to witness this event). I decided to add my verse to Pete's collection (if I would be so lucky) and sent it on to him at his home in Beacon, NY. He sent me a lovely reply. That was in October 1969.

So now we fast forward to about 1978, when I began to research my family roots. It took me a number of years to trace my German immigrant ancestors to the shores of New York and their trek to a new home . . . on the shore of the Hudson River. That family (surnames: THENEE, MUELLER, WOLBERT) lived in various places in New York and New Jersey, but were rarely far from the shores of the river. Could this be why I felt such a connection to the project begun back in the 1960s? Perhaps it was an ancestral memory and my own forebears whispering to me that it was a worthwhile cause and something that required my attention. And maybe one of those people (perhaps musician, great-grandpa Fritz Mueller) was my muse when I wrote the words that were in my mind's eye, but described something I had never seen for myself. I don't know.


Here are the words:

"As I was sailing, that Hudson River
I saw around me, the tow'ring timber;
I saw beneath me, all New York's litter,
Still this land is made for you and me."

Now, I have to confess here that I had forgotten all about that verse. I have written a lot of "additional verses" to already well-done songs, often fitting a particular theme or event. Pete's little note was a nice acknowledgment, but that was about it. Life moves on.

But in my world in Illinois, I didn't know what was happening in New York. In 1971, Pete wrote an article for The Village Voice in which he details a number of alternate verses, collected over the years, for Woody's immortal song. I do not subscribe to that weekly publication out of New York, nor does anyone I know (or I am sure I would have been contacted with the information that my verse had been immortalized).

In 1973 I moved from Illinois to California and was busy with work, a divorce, a remarriage, a conversion to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, getting myself acclimated to being a step-mother, returning to college to get various degrees, etc.; all encompassing the next decades. Pete Seeger, in 1993, published a book on the history of singalongs from the early years (long before I was born) through the era of the turbulent '60s (my real education in music) and into the next generation and the one after that. The music survives. It's titled Where Have all the Flowers Gone: A Singalong Memoir and is a great overview of the world of (folk) music (available through Amazon, of course). And, on page 144, there are two verses, attributed to Jean Wilcox, Illinois. To set the record straight: only the second verse is mine; I am sorry that the person who wrote the first one was lost to obscurity, probably in Pete's filing system or recording process. I wrote about this back in August of last year, with a slightly different take, so to read that whole discovery process, check my blog from then.

So, as Earth Day approaches, it occurs to me that taking out some of those old songs and verses, dusting them off, and singing to/for the environment is not a bad idea. And, if the muse hits, I may just pen another lyric or two to bring things up to date. Oh, and one more thing: next time I am in upstate New York, I will see that sloop, which is still going strong!

When the Past Returns, or, Be Careful What You Write Today . . . It May Visit You Tomorrow

Once upon a time, in 1969, I began writing songs. Sometimes I wrote entire lyrics and music; sometimes I adapted my lyrics to other (usually old) tunes; sometimes I made new verses for already established songs.
I still do it. My latest effort is a song set to the old folk tune "Greensleeves," dealing with the Federal Census. Some day (yes, I promise), I will have it as an MP3, downloadable from my website. But this is a story about lyrics written back in 1969.

The magazine Sing Out! (to which I subscribed from about 1963 until about 6 years ago when the politics seemed to overshadow the songs) had a column written by Pete Seeger entitled "Johnny Appleseed, Jr." He would discuss different issues in the Folk Music field, often putting a scholarly slant on it (his father had a doctorate in Folklore and I always thought that was one of the coolest things possible). I responded once to something he had written and he was kind enough to write back. Before too long, we were maintaining a correspondence, however sporadic.

I remember his discussion in the column once about a story of a little boy who was trying to transport things from his aunty's home to his mother, but never could seem to get it right (he brought home butter in his hands and it was all melted by the time he got home . . . his mother told him that to bring home butter he needed to wrap it in cool leaves and carry it carefully home. His aunty gave him a puppy and he nearly smothered the critter by bringing it home all wrapped in cool leaves. His mother said that he should tie a string to a puppy and bring it home by walking it behind him. His aunty gave him a loaf of bread to which he tied a string, dragging it home . . . well, you get the idea). I had a copy of a book that told that story, but my book was written back in the pre-1950's era when people were less sensitive about ethnicity and it was a very racist portrayal of a particular race. I sent copies of the pages from the book to Pete and he wrote me a nice thank you and even mentioned the receipt of it (sans my name) in his next column, along with reports on his receipt of other versions of the story. How the story was adapted to different cultures was of interest to Pete (and to me) and his discussion of what we call "The Folk Process" often cropped up in his columns.

The Folk Process deals with how songs and stories are adapted and changed over time (much like playing the game of "telephone" at a child's birthday party). Pete wrote a column on the great song by Woody Guthrie, "This Land is Your Land" and how it has become almost more well-known than the National Anthem (at least among school children). What was not included in the initial version of the song are three other (slightly more radical) verses Woody wrote that were almost lost to obscurity. But the folksters out there won't let that happen and the lyrics of those "lost verses" have been added to a number of songbooks and are sung at folk gatherings all over. And others have written additional verses, sometimes adapting them to personal or regional circumstances. Pete included a few in that column and I guess I was inspired. I wrote a couple of verses myself and sent them to Pete via US mail (this was long, long before the Internet). He wrote me a nice little note and said, "thank you for two new verses." And that, as they say, was that.

Fast forward over 40 years to friends of mine, traveling in Virginia, visiting with a gentleman who had received a book from Pete Seeger, autographed to him. My friends were looking through the book and found (on page 144) two "new" verses to "This Land is Your Land," written by "Jean Wilcox from Illinois." They emailed me to ask if I'd ever written verses to that song. At first I started to deny it (it's been 42 years, remember), and then I decided to Google it. Sure enough, in 1999, on the Mudcat Cafe discussion boards, Art Thieme (a Chicagoan that I had known back in the old days of Old Town music and coffee house performances) mentioned one of my verses as having been printed in a magazine or newspaper column by or about Pete Seeger. Well, when I read the lyrics (slightly mis-printed, but not enough to change the meaning), I was taken back in time, remembered the original column, the note Pete had sent to me, etc. Apparently, both verses made it into the book Pete wrote in 1993 (it's on the 3rd Ed. now):

Good thing: it's not already in my library (wouldn't that be embarrassing? to have the book and not even know I'm quoted in it). Bad thing: I have record of only one of the verses I wrote; no knowledge of the lyrics of the second verse (but I've ordered the book and will soon correct that issue). Still not sure how I missed having that book in my collection, but that will be remedied and I look forward to my own little ego trip as well as reading the rest of the material, which sounds to be quite interesting.


Moral: What you write today may pop up somewhere you least expect it tomorrow. And, with the Internet that is even more possible. So, to those asking for those census song lyrics: I have to do some "protection" things before I post them anywhere. I'll get it done soon, I promise.