When I was a kid and into all that nasty rock and roll I didn't get Pete Seeger. He seemed officious and fakey, now I thank God for him.
My aunt and uncle are folk singers. In fact their whole family are folk musicians and run a folk record company out of their house in Sharon Connecticut, Folk-Legacy Records (shameless plug.) As a kid my mom took us to their concerts, which were often at festivals. I was a little kid full of that boyhood need for trouble, and much preferred the rock music that was on the radio and played at the parties where there were girls.
Still I always had a good time at the concerts, liking the music in spite of my attempts to seem like a juvenile delinquent. Occasionally at these affairs Pete Seeger would be performing. At that time I didn't get Pete. He talked funny, and I thought he was "corny," although I always seemed to come away remembering the songs. A performance of Abi Yo Yo at one of the first fund raisers for the sloop "Clearwater" left me anxious and sleepless for a couple of nights, and I think he also did the rendition of "Beans in my Ears" that still sticks in my mind and occasionally entertains me on long drives.
But Pete wasn't cool. I didn't think about him much after I got into my teens although I remember being very impressed by his "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy" that he did on the Smothers Brothers show at the height of the struggle against the horror of the Vietnam war.
Years and years later, while I was a graduate student I got one of those weird graduate student "downticket" gigs that one picks up to try to get a little discretionary income while domiciling in the ivory tower. This particular strange gig was editing the music for a book of songs collected by Pete Seeger and Bob Reiser called "Carry It On."
My job was to make sure that the music notation was accurate and legible for the engraver. The job came from a friend of mine who was working for the publishing house, and was one of those "do it at home and submit a bill" gigs that New York City freelancers get all the time. Except one day I got a call that the people working on the book were going to get together at an apartment in upper Manhattan to go over the stuff and pull it all together.
So I got to spend a day with Pete. I have to say that I came away changed for life. First off I found out that Pete is for real. He is not "officious and fakey" at all. He talks the same way in real life as he does on stage, with the exact same quaver in his voice and with the same educated middle American accent and everything. Second of all he had one of the most extraordinary memories I had ever encountered. I recall a moment when we were pulling together the copyrights and we didn't seem to have the permission of one of the songwriters. Pete remembered his address, phone number and ZIP CODE, in spite of not having seen the guy in something like 30 years. But most importantly he was completely and truly dedicated to helping people and working for progressive goals.
I remember that for lunch he had corn. We wound up having to get fried chicken from a local shop and Pete, being a vegetarian, was happy to order several ears of corn. He talked about days when they would pick corn and run to get it into the boiling water so that it would retain its sweet freshness. He recalled stories of being with The Weavers and union struggles he had participated in. At the end of the very long day he gave me a ride home in the tiniest of tiny Italian cars, (a ride that had me clutching the door handle and secretly working the imaginary brake as he skillfully threaded his way down the West Side Highway to my apartment in Morningside Heights.) As we drove I told him about my uncle, who he of course remembered and went on about. He told me about some people in Philadelphia who had called him because their son was being accused of some trumped up charges, so Pete was going to go down there and do some stuff...play some music and see how he could help. We talked about opera and music and life and I got out of the car drunk on the perfume of the idea that a person could make a difference. My calculated cynicism seemed somehow antiquated after having met someone who had the courage to "keep going."
Some time later I saw him on television talking about the seemingly eternal Reagan-Bush administration telling us "this too shall pass." I heard him say the same thing in the depths of the W years, and you know...he was right.
Pete taught me something very important, and that is that people matter. We matter. And now we can all say "This too shall pass" thanks to the constancy of people like Pete.