Another Labor Day weekend is upon us, which for many people means summer’s end, the last big barbecue of the season, back to school, so on and so forth. Unlike Memorial Day, which we mark with commemorative ceremonies and concerts, very little is done to bring our attention to the meaning of Labor Day. It is in short, a celebration of the American labor movement, and I invite you to learn about the history of the holiday by visiting this Wikipedia page.

As for this piece, it is a reworking of my 2011 Labor Day post.

To me Labor Day and Woody Guthrie are synonymous. Woody had witnessed the exploitation of workers all across the United States. The word that was synonymous with labor for him was union. Woody Guthrie was committed to the union movement. He was convinced that American workers would find justice, equality, and security if they just unionized. A little poem from Woody’s notebook reads,

Ants got unions and so’ve these bees
Bosses don’t want union for you and me

Woody spent his life supporting the labor movement by singing his songs in the migrant camps, at the union meetings, and on picket lines – but he was not there just to cajole them into organizing, he was also there to lift their spirits and to remind them of their basic humanity.

He had a unique philosophy about unions, as he did about most things. Actually, his take on this word is not surprising because Woody considered himself a student of Eastern philosophy. Joe Klein, in Woody Guthrie: A Life, wrote about how Woody formulated his concept while serving in the Merchant Marine during WWII,

Woody_Guthrie by dmriley2It began with Cisco [Houston] and Jimmy’s [Longhi] running debate on hope and mortality, and burst into full flower with a stray phrase from a shipboard chaplain one Sunday morning: ‘As a rule, any activity of the mind which tends to show us the real ‘oneness’ of all things is great.’

Woody took off from there, using the word ‘union’ as a central proposition, tracing it from Buddha to the C.I.O. in a series of letters to Marjorie [his wife]. “The Chinese called it ‘yogin’ or ‘union.’ The Indians called it ‘prana’ or ‘energy,’” he wrote, adding that every great religious leader had believed in the same unifying concept . . .”

Cisco and Jimmy, by the way, were fellow artists who enlisted in the Merchant Marines with Woody, and somehow the trio ended up shipping together and having what Woody’s website describes as “humorous, dangerous, and often moving experiences.”

Here is Woody’s great anthem to migrant workers, Pastures of Plenty:

Listen to Woody sing “Better World,” accompanied by Will Geer (Grandpa on “The Waltons”), recorded in 1944.


Woody Guthrie: Notes of Hope

As I mentioned Thursday, Woody Guthrie would be 100 years old today. But, you know, calculating birthdays like this is a little strange. Turning 100 after you’re dead really isn’t much of an accomplishment. Anyone can do it. No, it’s just an excuse to celebrate someone we admire.

I’ve been a fan of Woody’s ever since I was in grade school, when we use to sing his songs in Music Class. My favorite was “Roll On, Columbia,” a fun song to sing in a group. That was long before I had ever heard of Pete Seeger or Bob Dylan or Alice’s Restaurant.

Now if you are an admirer of Woody Guthrie, you don’t need me to tell you why he matters. You already know. And if you are not a fan, and wondering what the big deal is, I suggest you listen to some of his recordings, and read Joe Klein’s biography, Woody Guthrie: A Life.

Klein not only captures the spirit of Woody’s life, but also the tragedy. Woody was a fountain of nervous and creative energy. He couldn’t sit still to save his life, couldn’t stay in one place for long, always talked up a storm, wrote incessantly – thousands of songs, 2 or 3 letters a day, books – and a man possessed of an indomitable spirit. Yet, that restless, creative mind, and that spirit, was diminished by Huntington’s Chorea, which was “to rob him of his precious ability to sing, to write, to make music.”

In 1940, for his song “This Land is Your Land,” Woody wrote:

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back . . .

“Note of Hope” is a new 12-track collection*

In December 1954, after he was diagnosed with the first stages of the disease, which had caused him to exhibit bizarre behavior that many interpreted as drunkenness, Woody wrote this:

Huntington’s Chorea
Means there’s no help known
In the science of medicine
For me . . .

So, in the end, the man whose name, to me, is synonymous with “hope,” was robbed of even that, perhaps his most precious quality of all.

From the ravages of Huntington’s Chorea, Woody lost control over his body and mind, and was hospitalized and bedridden the last 13 years of his life, but that’s not how we like to remember him. And it’s not how he would like to be remembered. We like to think of Woody as that rambler and hard traveler, always singin’, always dreamin’, as he described himself at the end of his book Seeds of Man, about a 1931 trip through Texas with his uncle Jeff in search of a silver mine, when he was 19 years old:

I took my first good long backwards look while the whistling of the breeze and the sporting of the winds yelled at me louder through the suction of the Slick Rock Gap. Sam Nail told us that this wagon trail out of here to the north towards Alpine would save us more than forty miles of dagger walking. I commenced trickling tears down both of my cheeks as I turned my face away from the Rough Run Valley, the Hen Egg, the Chisos, the Christmas Mountains, the Saw Tooth, the Santa Rosas . . .

I commenced to walk along past an old sign, scribbled on the fan of a blown-down windmill, which said, “Rock Canyon Ranch, 15 mis.,” with a little wiggly ground rattler arrow shooting towards the ranch. I commenced laughing at my own silly self as I flumped my guitar in a crazy banging which made no tune nor sense. My bangy laughing echoed back down in both my ears while I walked my first few steps on through the Slick Rock Gap.

I laughed so hard that I had to drag my feet like a cripple, I was thinking of something so funny that human words, human songs, can’t quite run and catch it . . .

I’ll skip Tucson and the Gonzalezes this trip. I’ll head on back up to Pampa and make friends again will all of my relatives laughing at me. I’ll save up, all of us will put up, and we’ll make another stab at this country down in here. Maybe, maybe that pretty, peachy, big-eyes, curly-headed Riorina will still be down here when I come back with a little more sense. I made so damn many mistakes on this run, I . . . I couldn’t stand up and look her straight in the eyes. Hyooee. Hyooee . . .

I just hope this one hope this morning, which is, I want to hope that Eddie Stoner is having better luck, or at least just as good, down along the muddy pool with Luisa and that Rio Rattler River, and with Ole Man Rio’s greeny wool blanket somewhere around.

(From Seeds of Man: An Experience Lived and Dreamed © 1976, by Marjorie M. Guthrie)

We remember Woody Guthrie for his notes of hope, those simple but magnificent songs that have inspired generations of American and people all around the world. And we remember him for a life lived and experienced as beautiful and troubled and complicated and free as life really is. We remember Woody Guthrie for his pride in America, for his belief that this country could always be better than it was, for his love of humanity, for his devotion to working folks and folks who had no jobs and no home, and for his fidelity to hope. We remember Woody Guthrie.

Other posts about Woody Guthrie on The Endless Further can be found here, here, here and here.

*On September 27th, 429 Records will release “Note of Hope,” a celebration of Woody Guthrie, based on many of his unpublished writings, featuring Rob Wasserman in collaboration with Jackson Browne, Ani DiFranco, Kurt Elling, Michael Franti, Nellie McKay, Tom Morello, Van Dyke Parks, Madeleine Peyroux, Lou Reed, Pete Seeger, Studs Terkel, Tony Trischka, and Chris Whitley


Woody At 100: A Roundup of Sorts

Woody photographed on March 8, 1943

“He would have been 100 years old, who can believe it? When I hear that, I think of me, I’m the guy’s kid, must be get-ting old myself.”

– Woody Guthrie

This Saturday, July 14, Woody Guthrie would have been 100. It’s been 45 years since he passed away, more than 60 years since he made his last recording, and yet, Woody is still relevant. His songs about this great land we share, its “freedom highway,” its inequalities, its downtrodden, and its defenders, live on.

Among Woody’s many interests was Eastern philosophy. In 1935, he discovered The Prophet by Kahil Gibran. Joe Klein, in his superb biography, Woody Guthrie: A Life, says the book was “a revelation. He was amazed to find in it a philosophy that mirrored his own exactly.”

Woody’s son, Arlo once told the NY Times, that his father “read many religious books and made copious notes in the margins. He read the Bhagavad-Gita as a young man and later in life ‘could argue back and forth about the Torah and the Talmud’.”

I read somewhere that during the mid-1940s, when he and his family were living at Coney Island, Woody became fascinated with Buddhism, even to the point of declaring his intention to become a Buddhist. He probably made many declarations like that. Woody was like a sponge, soaking up everything of interest that came his way.

And I also read that one time when he going into the hospital, when he got to the part of the admittance form that asked for his religion, Woody wrote, “All.”

In this centennial year, there have been celebrations galore, and they will continue. You can check out some upcoming events by visiting woody100.com.

In addition to concerts, festivals, and conferences, there have also been recordings. Tuesday Smithsonian Folkways Recordings released “Little Seed: Songs for Children by Woody Guthrie” sung by Elizabeth Mitchell. Smithsonian Folkways, a nonprofit record label of the Smithsonian Institution, the national museum of the United States, is a sponsor of the Woody Guthrie Centennial. Mitchell is a founding member of veteran indie rock band Ida and one of Smithsonian Folkways’ artists. Stream Mitchell’s version of “This Land Is Your Land” and “Bling Blang”: http://goo.gl/XMxoK.

And there’s “Woody at 100,” a new career-spanning three-CD box set, also released this week by Smithsonian Folkways. Among the 57 tracks are four new ones, recorded in Los Angeles prior to Woody’s legendary sessions at the Library of Congress in 1940.

A new book is My Name Is New York: Ramblin’ Around Woody Guthrie’s Town. Although Woody is forever associated with Oklahoma and the Dust Bowl, he spent most of his active adult life shuttling back and forth between L.A. and New York, and in fact, New York was his home base for the last 27 years of his life. According to the publisher, this book is filled with historical photographs, previously unpublished lyrics and biographical insights, and a walking guide; all compiled by Woody’s daughter Nora and the Woody Guthrie Archives.

Woody wrote a few books of his own. Two of them, Bound for Glory and Seeds of Man, are “quasi-fictional memoirs.” He also wrote an unpublished novel, a “Dust Bowl novel” titled House of Earth. Presidential historian Douglas Brinkley and actor Johnny Depp have an essay about it at the NY Times.

Woody Guthrie wrote over 1,000 songs, many more letters, hundreds of drawings, and a newspaper column. Unfortunately, he made very few film appearances. Here is one of two surviving film clips. I’ll have more Woody on Saturday.


Better World

Ah, here it is September and another Labor Day. How time flies . . . Seems like we just celebrated Labor Day a year ago . . .

And, as I did last year, I am using the occasion to talk about one of my heroes, that great champion of working men and women, one Woodrow Wilson Guthrie, better known as Woody.

Harold Leventhal, Guthrie’s manager, was a pretty smart guy. In the 1950’s Woody was in the hospital with Huntington’s Disease and unable to perform or write any more. Leventhal wanted to find a way to keep Woody’s compositions before the public. He hit upon the idea of putting them in the songbooks of America’s schoolchildren. Clever move. As a result, who knows how many kids born years after he wrote them, learned to love Woody’s songs, and long before they ever heard of Bob Dylan, either.

I was one of those kids. I can remember distinctly our 3rd grade music instructor teaching us to sing “Roll on, Columbia” one day. She also talked about the man who wrote the song, this guy named Woody, who rambled around the country and made up songs about the people he met and the things he saw. Sounded pretty cool to me. Ever since that afternoon I’ve felt a special connection to Woody’s life and songs.

Woody's birthplace in Okemah, OK

Although my early life was definitely urban, I was born and partly raised in Wichita, Kansas only about a hundred miles or so from Woody’s birthplace in Okemah, Oklahoma. Woody and I come from basically the same stock. His maternal grandfather was Kansas dirt farmer. So was my paternal great-grandfather, and at roughly the same time. My mother’s family came from Missouri, where according to my grandmother, her mother went to square dances with Frank James, who along with his brother, Jesse, robbed trains and stuff. Then there is the Great Depression, the Dustbowl, and World War II. My parents went through all that. While I didn’t experience it myself, when Woody sings about having the Dust Bowl Blues, I feel a real kinship to the people and the places and the time that he’s singing about.

Woody Guthrie was committed to the American labor movement. He was not a man who figured in the great events of labor history like Big Bill Haywood, Eugene V. Debs, John L. Lewis, Joe Hill, or Cesar Chavez. Woody’s contribution to the cause was mostly in the form of song and inspiration. But, he was right in the thick of the battle, singing his songs in the migrant camps, at the union meetings, and on the picket lines.

He had a unique philosophy about unions, as he did about most things. Joe Klein, in Woody Guthrie: A Life, wrote about how Woody formulated his concept while serving in the Merchant Marine during WWII,

It began with Cisco [Houston] and Jimmy’s [Longhi] running debate on hope and mortality, and burst into full flower with a stray phrase from a shipboard chaplain one Sunday morning: “As a rule, any activity of the mind which tends to show us the real ‘oneness’ of all things is great.”

Woody took off from there, using the word ‘union’ as a central proposition, tracing it from Buddha to the C.I.O. in a series of letters to Marjorie [his wife]. “The Chinese called it ‘yogin’ or ‘union.’ The Indians called it ‘prana’ or ‘energy,’” he wrote, adding that every great religious leader had believed in the same unifying concept . . .”

Woody Guthrie literally wrote over a thousand songs in his lifetime, most of them based on melodies from old folk and country tunes.

Here Woody shares with us his philosophy about songs:

I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good.  I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose.  Bound to lose.  No good to nobody.  No good for nothing.  Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that.  Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard traveling.  I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood.  I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work.  And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you.  I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think you’ve not any sense at all.  But I decided a long time ago that I’d starve to death before I’d sing any such songs as that.  The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow.”

If you’ve got an extra 10 minutes today, please watch the short documentary below that was produced by a young woman named Melissa Mergner in 2006, when she was a 14-year-old high school student. I think that’s pretty cool, too. In it, you hear Woody himself talking about his life, along with the voices of Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, and Arlo and Nora Guthrie.

But first, since I know you have a least 3 minutes to spare, do yourself a favor and listen to Woody sing “Better World,” accompanied by Will Geer (Grandpa on “The Waltons”), a song that reflects not only the struggle and search for hope of the labor movement but also that of all the people in the world caught in the horrific war still raging when this song was recorded in 1944.

Woody Guthrie: Voice of the Common Man by Melissa Mergner



Just a Hoping Machine

Woody's guitar says "This Machine Kills Fascists."

“The note of hope is the only note that can help us or save us from falling to the bottom of the heap of evolution, because, largely, about all a human being is, anyway, is just a hoping machine.”

–Woody Guthrie

Here it is another Labor Day when we celebrate the achievements of American workers. For most of us it means a day off from work, some time to relax, be with friends and family, barbecue, and mark the semi-official end of summer.

I think the significance of this holiday is often forgotten, unlike say, Memorial Day, when we honor those who have died in military service. We should be mindful that that there are many other occupations where men and women put their lives on the line every day (coal miners come to mind) and that their contribution to our nation’s welfare is just as noble and needed as those who fight in war. We could remember, too, the courage and sacrifice it took to fight the fight for American worker’s rights. A fight that is not yet over.

Singer-songwriter and activist, Woody Guthrie was a great supporter of the American labor movement. Ironically, many of his songs were about the working man and woman who couldn’t find work. Read the lyrics to those songs and you’ll find that in light of our current economic situation, they could have been written yesterday.

Like this from “Blowin’ Down the Road”:

I’m a-lookin’ for a job at honest pay,
I’m a-lookin’ for a job at honest pay,
I’m a-lookin’ for a job at honest pay, Lord, Lord,
An’ I ain’t a-gonna be treated this way.

And “I Ain’t Got No Home”:

My brothers and my sisters are stranded on this road,
A hot and dusty road that a million feet have trod;
Rich man took my home and drove me from my door
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

In songs like “The Biggest Thing That Man Has Ever Done” Woody expressed his optimistic vision for a better future:

I’d better quit my talking, ’cause I told you all I know,
But please remember, pardner, wherever you may go,
The people are building a peaceful world, and when the job is done
That’ll be the biggest thing that man has ever done.

While surfing the web yesterday, I ran across a film forum where the archival clip below had been posted and one of the responses was this: “We could use another Guthrie right now.” I think Woody’s still here in spirit. There are many Woody’s here now and there will always be people like him around because there will always be a need. They are hoping machines. Brick by brick, song by song, heart by heart, they are building peace, because they have hope, and because they believe that from their efforts “There’s a better world that’s a-coming.”

I don’t know quite what to think when I hear compassion denigrated, the importance and effectiveness of social action and engagement dismissed  and disputed. Everyone has a right to see things as they please but it strikes me as rather sad. Living in this world, how can we not be engaged in the common struggle? Or, at the very least, supportive of it.

Ambrose Bierce once defined a cynic as someone who “sees things as they are, not as they ought to be.” While Robert Kennedy famously said, “There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why . . . I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?”

It’s hard not to be cynical from time to time. But I think that cynicism is a clog in our hoping machine. It’s a glitch that causes our machines to malfunction. The fight against cynicism is another weighty battle that must be won.

Compassion for compassion’s sake? That, parders, is what it’s all about. We practice compassion and work for a better world for no other reason than it’s the right thing to do. The only thing to do. Those hoping machines that are tuned-up and in good working order understand this.

Anyway, here is some rare film footage  from a documentary produced in 1947, one of two surviving film clips of Woody Guthrie. At the beginning, he’s singing “South Carolina Blues” accompanied by Baldwin “Butch” Hawes, a member of the Almanac Singers. The second song is the traditional railroad tune “John Henry” with one of the greatest harp players of all time, Sonny Terry, and his partner, Brownie  McGhee on guitar. Enjoy.