This space is dedicated to the proposition that we need to know the history of the struggles on the left and of earlier progressive movements here and world-wide. If we can learn from the mistakes made in the past (as well as what went right) we can move forward in the future to create a more just and equitable society. We will be reviewing books, CDs, and movies we believe everyone needs to read, hear and look at as well as making commentary from time to time. Greg Green, site manager
Markin comment: I have always thought the late songwriter/storyteller Utah Phillips' little spoken ditty-"Talking NPR Blues" hit the nail on the head. And with none of the endless NPR begging for money either. Thanks Utah.
The Talking NPR Blues
By U. Utah Phillips
Spoken in time
I turned on my radio… spun the dial
Thought I'd listen to some news for a while
I grabbed the knob, spun it around,
Got NPR… here's what I found…
Real news? Hardly a trace
Just one damn marathon market place
The Nasdaq's up, the Dow's in the cellar
And NPR sold out to Rockefeller
Hostile take over… Real hostile.
Well I hear about all the anti trust
And all the day traders who bit the dust
Mergers, buyouts and acquisitions
Low down crooks in high positions
Wheelers, dealers, and CEO's
Fired and paid off through the nose
Buying yachts and fancy homes
With the bail out money from the savings and loans
And I get pissed… Off that is.
It's dot com this and dot com that
The underwriters are getting fat
On airwaves stole from you and me
By a bunch of thieves called the FCC
They don't give a damn what we want and need
They've all caved in to corporate greed
And sold us out to the ruling class
Well the whole damn bunch can kiss my… …Dot Com!
This is a family show folks
The FCC says watch your language
English
What's yours?
I got tired of being treated like a veg
So I called up the station and canceled my pledge
In a mighty act of liberation
Sent the money off to my community station
I said "I love you"
But if you blow it
I'll sure as hell let you know it
I'll knock the radio off the shelf
Buy a transmitter and do it myself
Whitebeard the Pirate
This is radio station H O B O
Broadcasting on a vagrancy of 60 to 90 days
Signing off
For now.
Once More Into The Time Capsule, Part One-The New York Folk Revival Scene in the Early 1960’s-Malvina Reynolds
CD Review
Washington Square Memoirs: The Great Urban Folk Revival Boom, 1950-1970, various artists, 3CD set, Rhino Records, 2001 "Except for the reference to the origins of the talent brought to the city the same comments apply for this CD. Rather than repeat information that is readily available in the booklet and on the discs I’ll finish up here with some recommendations of songs that I believe that you should be sure to listen to: Disc One; Woody Guthrie on “Hard Travelin’”, Big Bill Broonzy on “Black , Brown And White”, Jean Ritchie on “Nottamun Town”, Josh White on “One Meat Ball” Malvina Reynolds on “Little Boxes”, Cisco Houston on “Midnight Special”, The Weavers on “Wasn’t That A Time”, Glenn Yarborough on “Spanish Is A Loving Tongue”, Odetta on “I’ve Been Driving On Bald Mountain”, The New Lost City Ramblers on “Don’t Let Your Deal Go Down”, Bob Gibson and Bob Camp on “Betty And Dupree”, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott on “San Francisco Bay Blues”, Peggy Seeger on “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”, Hoyt Axton on “Greenback Dollar” and Carolyn Hester on “Turn And Swing Jubilee”." Malvina Reynolds on “Little Boxes”. Like everyone else from the “Generation of ‘68” who paid attention to folk music on their way to greater social and political consciousness I know this song from Pete Seeger’s rendition. I only knew the name Malvina Reynolds much later. I only ‘knew’ the musical work of Ms. Reynold much later through the efforts of Rosalie Sorrels who did a whole CD compilation of Malvina's work (reviewed in this space). The lyrics to “Little Boxes”, by the way, are a very concise and condensed expression of the way many of us were feeling about the future bourgeois society had set up for us back in the early 1960s. As the song details-it was not pretty. I submit that it still is not pretty. Malvina Reynolds: Song Lyrics and Poems
Little Boxes Notes: words and music by Malvina Reynolds; copyright 1962 Schroder Music Company, renewed 1990. Malvina and her husband were on their way from where they lived in Berkeley, through San Francisco and down the peninsula to La Honda where she was to sing at a meeting of the Friends’ Committee on Legislation (not the PTA, as Pete Seeger says in the documentary about Malvina, “Love It Like a Fool”). As she drove through Daly City, she said “Bud, take the wheel. I feel a song coming on.” Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky tacky,1 Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes all the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. And the people in the houses All went to the university, Where they were put in boxes And they came out all the same, And there's doctors and lawyers, And business executives, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. And they all play on the golf course And drink their martinis dry, And they all have pretty children And the children go to school, And the children go to summer camp And then to the university, Where they are put in boxes And they come out all the same. And the boys go into business And marry and raise a family In boxes made of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same.
*For The Late Rosalie Sorrels- Another Rosalie Sorrels Potpourri-Idaho, Cafe Lena, Childhood Dreams and Such
CD Review Walking, Talking, Singing Storytelling-The Old Traditions
What Does It Mean To Love, Rosalie Sorrels, Green Linnet, 1994 The first paragraph here has been used in reviewing other Rosalie Sorrels CDs in this space. “My first association of the name Rosalie Sorrels with folk music came, many years ago now, from hearing the recently departed folk singer/storyteller/ songwriter and unrepentant Wobblie (IWW) Utah Phillips mention his long time friendship with her going back before he became known as a folksinger. I also recall that combination of Sorrels and Phillips as he performed his classic “Starlight On The Rails” and Rosalie his also classic “If I Could Be The Rain” on a PBS documentary honoring the Café Lena in Saratoga, New York, a place that I am also very familiar with for many personal and musical reasons. Of note here: it should be remembered that Rosalie saved, literally, many of the compositions that Utah left helter-skelter around the country in his “bumming” days.” I am on something of a Rosalie Sorrels streak after getting, as a Christmas gift, a copy of “Strangers In Another Country”, her heart-felt tribute to her recently deceased long time friend and old working class warrior Utah Phillips. Thus, in the interest of completeness as this is the ‘last’ Rosalie Sorrels CD in my possession to be reviewed I will make some a couple of comments. I need not mention Rosalie’s singing and storytelling abilities. Those are, as always, a given. I have noted elsewhere that Rosalie and the old curmudgeon Phillips did more than their fate share of work in order to keep these traditions alive. Old Utah handled the more overtly political phase and Rosalie, for lack of a better expression, the political side as it intersected the personal phase. That informal division of labor is on full display on this CD as Rosalie sings and tells stories of her childhood, her children’s childhoods, stories of other family members and some wisdom that you can take or leave, but at least consider. Fair enough. Of course this reviewer, as a man who loves the oceans, got hooked by this woman of the Rocky Mountain West, by her snippets of stories on a child’s eye view of that first ocean experience (“I have watched and respected the solitude of a child”). So I had to listen to the rest. And so we hear about waltzing with bears, apples and pears, cats and scats, broken tokens and a few other of her observations about growing up to be sane in a seemingly irrational world. And not doing to badly by it as well. Not Rosalie’s most interesting work but worth a listen.
For The Late Rosalie Sorrels-A Working Class Anthem For Labor Day- " Solidarity Forever"
A YouTube's film clip of Pete Seeger, appropriately enough, performing old Wobblie songwriter Ralph Chaplin's labor anthem, Solidarity Forever. A good song to hear on our real labor holiday, the holiday of the international working class movement, May Day, but even today on this country's consciously competing holiday.
If I Could Be The Rain I
Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go-Round
At 83
By Music Critic Bart
Webber
Back the day, back in
the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon,
Josh Breslin, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in all
roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square with the big names, some small too which
one time I made the subject of a series, or rather two series entitled
respectively Not Bob Dylan and Not Joan Baez about
those who for whatever reason did not make the show over the long haul, passing
through the Club 47 Mecca and later the Café Nana and Club Blue, the Village
down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago.
Those are the places where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a
whole crew of younger folksingers, some who made it like Tom Rush and Joni
Mitchell and others like Eric Saint Jean and Minnie Murphy who didn’t,
like who all sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete
Seeger got their first taste of the fresh breeze of the folk minute, that
expression courtesy of the late Markin, who was among the first around to
sample the breeze.
(I should tell you here
in parentheses so you will keep it to yourselves that the former three
mentioned above never got over that folk minute since they will still tell a
tale or two about the times, about how Dave Van Ronk came in all drunk one
night at the Café Nana and still blew everybody away, about catching Paxton
changing out of his Army uniform when he was stationed down at Fort
Dix right before a performance at the Gaslight, about walking down
the street Cambridge with Tom Rush just after he put out No
Regrets/RockportSunday, and aboutaffairs
with certain up and coming female folkies like the previously mentioned Minnie
Murphy at the Club Nana when that was the spot of spots. Strictly aficionado
stuff if you dare go anywhere within ten miles of the subject with any of them
-I will take my chances here because this notice, this passing of legendary
Rosalie Sorrels a decade after her dear friend Utah Phillips is important.)
Those urban locales were
certainly the high white note spots but there was another important strand that
hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and
some of the other upstate colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s, run by the late Lena
Spenser, a true folk legend and a folkie character in her own right, where some
of those names played previously mentioned but also where some upstarts from
the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and
still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like the late Bruce “Utah” Phillips
(although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing
about and rounded out his personality). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels
who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of
83.
Yeah, came barreling
like seven demons out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is a
different proposition. The West I am talking about is where what the novelist
Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better
be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo
un-mourned and unloved. A tough life when the original pioneers drifted
westward from Eastern nowhere looking for that pot of gold or at least some
fresh air and a new start away from crowded cities and sweet breathe vices. A
tough life worthy of song and homage. Tough going too for guys like Joe
Hill who tried to organize the working people against the sweated robber barons
of his day (they are still with us as we are all now very painfully and
maybe more vicious than their in your face forbear). Struggles, fierce
down at the bone struggles also worthy of song and homage. Tough too when
your people landed in rugged beautiful two-hearted river Idaho, tried to make a
go of it in Boise, maybe stopped short in Helena but you get the drift. A
different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes than
lost loves and longings.
Rosalie Sorrels could
write those songs as well, as well as anybody but she was as interested in the
social struggles of her time (one of the links that united her with Utah) and
gave no quarter when she turned the screw on a lyric. The last time I saw
Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at the majestic
Saunders Theater at Harvard University out in Cambridge America at what was
billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel
road. (That theater complex contained within the Memorial Hall dedicated to the
memory of the gallants from the college who laid down their heads in that great
civil war that sundered the country. The Harvards did themselves proud at
collectively laying down their heads at seemingly every key battle that I am
aware of when I look up at the names and places. A deep pride runs through me
at those moments)
Rosalie Sorrels as one
would expect on such an occasion was on fire that night except the then recent
death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill
(and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job banging out the
blues unto the heavens) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always
remember the crystal clarity and irony of her cover of her classic Old
Devil Time that night-yeah, give me one more chance, one
more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain and
thoughts of washing herself down to the sea whenever I hear her name. RIP
Rosalie Sorrels
Solidarity Forever Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! For the union makes us strong When the union's inspiration through the workers' blood shall run, There can be no power greater anywhere beneath the sun. Yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one? But the union makes us strong. They have taken untold millions that they never toiled to earn, But without our brain and muscle not a single wheel can turn. We can break their haughty power; gain our freedom when we learn That the Union makes us strong. In our hands is placed a power greater than their hoarded gold; Greater than the might of armies, magnified a thousand-fold. We can bring to birth a new world from the ashes of the old For the Union makes us strong. This labor anthem was written in 1915 by IWW songwriter and union organizer Ralph Chaplin using the music of Julia Ward Howe's Battle Hymn of the Republic. These song lyrics are those sung by Joe Glazer, Educational Director of the United Rubber Workers, from the recording Songs of Work and Freedom, (Washington Records WR460)
A YouTube's film clip of Pete Seeger appropriately enough, performing old Wobblie songwriter Ralph Chaplin's labor anthem, "Solidarity Forever". Good to hear on our real labor holiday, May Day, and even on this country's competing holiday.
If I Could Be The Rain I
Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go-Round
At 83
By Music Critic Bart
Webber
Back the day, back in
the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon,
Josh Breslin, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in all
roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square with the big names, some small too which
one time I made the subject of a series, or rather two series entitled
respectively Not Bob Dylan and Not Joan Baez about
those who for whatever reason did not make the show over the long haul, passing
through the Club 47 Mecca and later the Café Nana and Club Blue, the Village
down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago.
Those are the places where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a
whole crew of younger folksingers, some who made it like Tom Rush and Joni
Mitchell and others like Eric Saint Jean and Minnie Murphy who didn’t,
like who all sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete
Seeger got their first taste of the fresh breeze of the folk minute, that
expression courtesy of the late Markin, who was among the first around to
sample the breeze.
(I should tell you here
in parentheses so you will keep it to yourselves that the former three
mentioned above never got over that folk minute since they will still tell a
tale or two about the times, about how Dave Van Ronk came in all drunk one
night at the Café Nana and still blew everybody away, about catching Paxton
changing out of his Army uniform when he was stationed down at Fort
Dix right before a performance at the Gaslight, about walking down
the street Cambridge with Tom Rush just after he put out No
Regrets/RockportSunday, and aboutaffairs
with certain up and coming female folkies like the previously mentioned Minnie
Murphy at the Club Nana when that was the spot of spots. Strictly aficionado
stuff if you dare go anywhere within ten miles of the subject with any of them
-I will take my chances here because this notice, this passing of legendary
Rosalie Sorrels a decade after her dear friend Utah Phillips is important.)
Those urban locales were
certainly the high white note spots but there was another important strand that
hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and
some of the other upstate colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s, run by the late Lena
Spenser, a true folk legend and a folkie character in her own right, where some
of those names played previously mentioned but also where some upstarts from
the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and
still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like the late Bruce “Utah” Phillips
(although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing
about and rounded out his personality). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels
who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of
83.
Yeah, came barreling
like seven demons out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is a
different proposition. The West I am talking about is where what the novelist
Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better
be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo
un-mourned and unloved. A tough life when the original pioneers drifted
westward from Eastern nowhere looking for that pot of gold or at least some
fresh air and a new start away from crowded cities and sweet breathe vices. A
tough life worthy of song and homage. Tough going too for guys like Joe
Hill who tried to organize the working people against the sweated robber barons
of his day (they are still with us as we are all now very painfully and
maybe more vicious than their in your face forbear). Struggles, fierce
down at the bone struggles also worthy of song and homage. Tough too when
your people landed in rugged beautiful two-hearted river Idaho, tried to make a
go of it in Boise, maybe stopped short in Helena but you get the drift. A
different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes than
lost loves and longings.
Rosalie Sorrels could
write those songs as well, as well as anybody but she was as interested in the
social struggles of her time (one of the links that united her with Utah) and
gave no quarter when she turned the screw on a lyric. The last time I saw
Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at the majestic
Saunders Theater at Harvard University out in Cambridge America at what was
billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel
road. (That theater complex contained within the Memorial Hall dedicated to the
memory of the gallants from the college who laid down their heads in that great
civil war that sundered the country. The Harvards did themselves proud at
collectively laying down their heads at seemingly every key battle that I am
aware of when I look up at the names and places. A deep pride runs through me
at those moments)
Rosalie Sorrels as one
would expect on such an occasion was on fire that night except the then recent
death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill
(and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job banging out the
blues unto the heavens) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always
remember the crystal clarity and irony of her cover of her classic Old
Devil Time that night-yeah, give me one more chance, one
more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain and
thoughts of washing herself down to the sea whenever I hear her name. RIP
Rosalie Sorrels
Solidarity Forever
Solidarity forever!
Solidarity forever!
Solidarity forever!
For the union makes us strong
When the union's inspiration
through the workers' blood shall run,
There can be no power greater
anywhere beneath the sun.
Yet what force on earth is weaker
than the feeble strength of one?
But the union makes us strong.
They have taken untold millions
that they never toiled to earn,
But without our brain and muscle
not a single wheel can turn.
We can break their haughty power;
gain our freedom when we learn
That the Union makes us strong.
In our hands is placed a power
greater than their hoarded gold;
Greater than the might of armies,
magnified a thousand-fold.
We can bring to birth a new world
from the ashes of the old
For the Union makes us strong.
This labor anthem was written in 1915 by IWW songwriter and union organizer Ralph Chaplin using the music of Julia Ward Howe's Battle Hymn of the Republic. These song lyrics are those sung by Joe Glazer, Educational Director of the United Rubber Workers, from the recording Songs of Work and Freedom, (Washington Records WR460)
A YouTube's film clip of Pete Seeger appropriately enough, performing old Wobblie songwriter Ralph Chaplin's labor anthem, "Solidarity Forever". Good to hear on our real labor holiday, May Day, and even on this country's competing holiday.
If I Could Be The Rain I
Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go-Round
At 83
By Music Critic Bart
Webber
Back the day, back in
the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon,
Josh Breslin, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in all
roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square with the big names, some small too which
one time I made the subject of a series, or rather two series entitled
respectively Not Bob Dylan and Not Joan Baez about
those who for whatever reason did not make the show over the long haul, passing
through the Club 47 Mecca and later the Café Nana and Club Blue, the Village
down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago.
Those are the places where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a
whole crew of younger folksingers, some who made it like Tom Rush and Joni
Mitchell and others like Eric Saint Jean and Minnie Murphy who didn’t,
like who all sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete
Seeger got their first taste of the fresh breeze of the folk minute, that
expression courtesy of the late Markin, who was among the first around to
sample the breeze.
(I should tell you here
in parentheses so you will keep it to yourselves that the former three
mentioned above never got over that folk minute since they will still tell a
tale or two about the times, about how Dave Van Ronk came in all drunk one
night at the Café Nana and still blew everybody away, about catching Paxton
changing out of his Army uniform when he was stationed down at Fort
Dix right before a performance at the Gaslight, about walking down
the street Cambridge with Tom Rush just after he put out No
Regrets/RockportSunday, and aboutaffairs
with certain up and coming female folkies like the previously mentioned Minnie
Murphy at the Club Nana when that was the spot of spots. Strictly aficionado
stuff if you dare go anywhere within ten miles of the subject with any of them
-I will take my chances here because this notice, this passing of legendary
Rosalie Sorrels a decade after her dear friend Utah Phillips is important.)
Those urban locales were
certainly the high white note spots but there was another important strand that
hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and
some of the other upstate colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s, run by the late Lena
Spenser, a true folk legend and a folkie character in her own right, where some
of those names played previously mentioned but also where some upstarts from
the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and
still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like the late Bruce “Utah” Phillips
(although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing
about and rounded out his personality). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels
who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of
83.
Yeah, came barreling
like seven demons out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is a
different proposition. The West I am talking about is where what the novelist
Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better
be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo
un-mourned and unloved. A tough life when the original pioneers drifted
westward from Eastern nowhere looking for that pot of gold or at least some
fresh air and a new start away from crowded cities and sweet breathe vices. A
tough life worthy of song and homage. Tough going too for guys like Joe
Hill who tried to organize the working people against the sweated robber barons
of his day (they are still with us as we are all now very painfully and
maybe more vicious than their in your face forbear). Struggles, fierce
down at the bone struggles also worthy of song and homage. Tough too when
your people landed in rugged beautiful two-hearted river Idaho, tried to make a
go of it in Boise, maybe stopped short in Helena but you get the drift. A
different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes than
lost loves and longings.
Rosalie Sorrels could
write those songs as well, as well as anybody but she was as interested in the
social struggles of her time (one of the links that united her with Utah) and
gave no quarter when she turned the screw on a lyric. The last time I saw
Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at the majestic
Saunders Theater at Harvard University out in Cambridge America at what was
billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel
road. (That theater complex contained within the Memorial Hall dedicated to the
memory of the gallants from the college who laid down their heads in that great
civil war that sundered the country. The Harvards did themselves proud at
collectively laying down their heads at seemingly every key battle that I am
aware of when I look up at the names and places. A deep pride runs through me
at those moments)
Rosalie Sorrels as one
would expect on such an occasion was on fire that night except the then recent
death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill
(and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job banging out the
blues unto the heavens) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always
remember the crystal clarity and irony of her cover of her classic Old
Devil Time that night-yeah, give me one more chance, one
more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain and
thoughts of washing herself down to the sea whenever I hear her name. RIP
Rosalie Sorrels
Solidarity Forever Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! Solidarity forever! For the union makes us strong When the union's inspiration through the workers' blood shall run, There can be no power greater anywhere beneath the sun. Yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one? But the union makes us strong. They have taken untold millions that they never toiled to earn, But without our brain and muscle not a single wheel can turn. We can break their haughty power; gain our freedom when we learn That the Union makes us strong. In our hands is placed a power greater than their hoarded gold; Greater than the might of armies, magnified a thousand-fold. We can bring to birth a new world from the ashes of the old For the Union makes us strong. This labor anthem was written in 1915 by IWW songwriter and union organizer Ralph Chaplin using the music of Julia Ward Howe's Battle Hymn of the Republic. These song lyrics are those sung by Joe Glazer, Educational Director of the United Rubber Workers, from the recording Songs of Work and Freedom, (Washington Records WR460)
A YouTube's film clip of Pete Seeger appropriately enough, performing old Wobblie songwriter Ralph Chaplin's labor anthem, "Solidarity Forever". Good to hear on our real labor holiday, May Day, and even on this country's competing holiday.
If I Could Be The Rain I
Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go-Round
At 83
By Music Critic Bart
Webber
Back the day, back in
the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon,
Josh Breslin, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in all
roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square with the big names, some small too which
one time I made the subject of a series, or rather two series entitled
respectively Not Bob Dylan and Not Joan Baez about
those who for whatever reason did not make the show over the long haul, passing
through the Club 47 Mecca and later the Café Nana and Club Blue, the Village
down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago.
Those are the places where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a
whole crew of younger folksingers, some who made it like Tom Rush and Joni
Mitchell and others like Eric Saint Jean and Minnie Murphy who didn’t,
like who all sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete
Seeger got their first taste of the fresh breeze of the folk minute, that
expression courtesy of the late Markin, who was among the first around to
sample the breeze.
(I should tell you here
in parentheses so you will keep it to yourselves that the former three
mentioned above never got over that folk minute since they will still tell a
tale or two about the times, about how Dave Van Ronk came in all drunk one
night at the Café Nana and still blew everybody away, about catching Paxton
changing out of his Army uniform when he was stationed down at Fort
Dix right before a performance at the Gaslight, about walking down
the street Cambridge with Tom Rush just after he put out No
Regrets/RockportSunday, and aboutaffairs
with certain up and coming female folkies like the previously mentioned Minnie
Murphy at the Club Nana when that was the spot of spots. Strictly aficionado
stuff if you dare go anywhere within ten miles of the subject with any of them
-I will take my chances here because this notice, this passing of legendary
Rosalie Sorrels a decade after her dear friend Utah Phillips is important.)
Those urban locales were
certainly the high white note spots but there was another important strand that
hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and
some of the other upstate colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s, run by the late Lena
Spenser, a true folk legend and a folkie character in her own right, where some
of those names played previously mentioned but also where some upstarts from
the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and
still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like the late Bruce “Utah” Phillips
(although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing
about and rounded out his personality). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels
who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of
83.
Yeah, came barreling
like seven demons out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is a
different proposition. The West I am talking about is where what the novelist
Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better
be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo
un-mourned and unloved. A tough life when the original pioneers drifted
westward from Eastern nowhere looking for that pot of gold or at least some
fresh air and a new start away from crowded cities and sweet breathe vices. A
tough life worthy of song and homage. Tough going too for guys like Joe
Hill who tried to organize the working people against the sweated robber barons
of his day (they are still with us as we are all now very painfully and
maybe more vicious than their in your face forbear). Struggles, fierce
down at the bone struggles also worthy of song and homage. Tough too when
your people landed in rugged beautiful two-hearted river Idaho, tried to make a
go of it in Boise, maybe stopped short in Helena but you get the drift. A
different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes than
lost loves and longings.
Rosalie Sorrels could
write those songs as well, as well as anybody but she was as interested in the
social struggles of her time (one of the links that united her with Utah) and
gave no quarter when she turned the screw on a lyric. The last time I saw
Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at the majestic
Saunders Theater at Harvard University out in Cambridge America at what was
billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel
road. (That theater complex contained within the Memorial Hall dedicated to the
memory of the gallants from the college who laid down their heads in that great
civil war that sundered the country. The Harvards did themselves proud at
collectively laying down their heads at seemingly every key battle that I am
aware of when I look up at the names and places. A deep pride runs through me
at those moments)
Rosalie Sorrels as one
would expect on such an occasion was on fire that night except the then recent
death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill
(and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job banging out the
blues unto the heavens) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always
remember the crystal clarity and irony of her cover of her classic Old
Devil Time that night-yeah, give me one more chance, one
more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain and
thoughts of washing herself down to the sea whenever I hear her name. RIP
Rosalie Sorrels
Solidarity Forever
Solidarity forever!
Solidarity forever!
Solidarity forever!
For the union makes us strong
When the union's inspiration
through the workers' blood shall run,
There can be no power greater
anywhere beneath the sun.
Yet what force on earth is weaker
than the feeble strength of one?
But the union makes us strong.
They have taken untold millions
that they never toiled to earn,
But without our brain and muscle
not a single wheel can turn.
We can break their haughty power;
gain our freedom when we learn
That the Union makes us strong.
In our hands is placed a power
greater than their hoarded gold;
Greater than the might of armies,
magnified a thousand-fold.
We can bring to birth a new world
from the ashes of the old
For the Union makes us strong.
This labor anthem was written in 1915 by IWW songwriter and union organizer Ralph Chaplin using the music of Julia Ward Howe's Battle Hymn of the Republic. These song lyrics are those sung by Joe Glazer, Educational Director of the United Rubber Workers, from the recording Songs of Work and Freedom, (Washington Records WR460)
Rosalie Sorrels Passes At 83-Don’t Mourn- Organize (And Maybe Sing A Song Or Two) - In Honor Of Labor Agitator/Songwriter Joe Hill-Utah Phillips At The Ready
If I Could Be The Rain I Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The
Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go Round At 83
By Music Critic Bart Webber
Back the day, back in the emerging folk minute of the 1960s
that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon, the late Peter Paul Markin and others
were deeply immersed in (and the former two never got over since they will
still tell a tale or two about the times if you go anywhere within ten miles of
the subject-I will take my chances here because this notice is important) all
roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square, the Village down in NYC, North Beach
out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago. That is where names like
Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a whole crew of younger folksingers who
sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger.
But there was another important strand that hovered around
Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and some other
colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s where some of those names played but also where
some upstarts from the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered
at that famed (and still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like Bruce “Utah”
Phillips (although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he
would sing about). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels who just joined her
long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of 83.
Yeah, out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is
different, where what the novelist Thomas Wolfe called the place where the
states were square and you had better be as well if you didn’t want to starve
or be found in some empty arroyo un-mourned and unloved. A tough life when the
original pioneers drifted westward from Eastern nowhere looking for that pot of
gold or at least some fresh air and a new start away from crowded cities and
sweet breathe vices. Tough for guys like Joe Hill who tried to organize the working people against the sweated robber barons of his day (they are still with us as we are all now very painfully aware.Tough too when you landed in rugged beautiful two-hearted
river Idaho, tried to make a go of it in Boise, maybe stopped short in Helena
but you get the drift. A different place and a different type of subject matter
for your themes.
The last time I saw Rosalie perform in person was back in
2002 when she performed at what was billed as her last go-round, her hanging up
her shoes from the dusty travel road. She was on fire that night except the
then recent death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be
on the bill (and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job) cast a
pall over the proceedings. I will always remember her cover of her classic Old Devil Time that night-yeah, give me one more chance, one more
breathe. But I will always think of If I
Could Be The Rain whenever I hear her name. RIP Rosalie Sorrels
Joe Hill’s Last Will My will is easy to decide, For there is nothing to divide, My kin don’t need to fuss and moan- “Moss does not cling to a rolling stone.” My body? Ah, If I could choose, I would to ashes it reduce, And let the merry breezes blow My dust to where some flowers grow. Perhaps some fading flower then Would come to life and bloom again. This is my last and final will, Good luck to all of you, Joe Hill Joe Hill was an IWW man. The Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) was, and is a radical union dedicated to abolishing the wage system and replacing it with a democratic system of workplace organization. Joe Hill was a migrant laborer to the US from Sweden, a poet, musician and union radical. The term “pie in the sky” is believed to come from his satirical song, “The Preacher and the Slave”. Hill was framed for murder and executed by firing squad in Salt Lake City, Utah on November 19, 1915. His last words were, “Fire!” Just before his death he wrote to fellow IWW organizer Big Bill Haywood a letter which included the famous words, “Don’t mourn, Organize”. The poem above was his will. It was set to music and became the basis of a song by Ethel Raim called “Joe Hill’s Last Will”. A praise poem by Alfred Hayes became the lyrics of the best-known song about Joe Hill, written in 1936 by Earl Robinson. This was sung so beautifully by Joan Baez at Woodstock in 1969: Joe Hill words by Alfred Hayes music by Earl Robinson I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, Alive as you and me. Says I “But Joe, you’re ten years dead” “I never died” said he, “I never died” said he. “In Salt Lake, Joe,” says I to him, him standing by my bed, “They framed you on a murder charge,” Says Joe, “But I ain’t dead,” Says Joe, “But I ain’t dead.” “The Copper Bosses killed you Joe, they shot you Joe” says I. “Takes more than guns to kill a man” Says Joe “I didn’t die” Says Joe “I didn’t die” And standing there as big as life and smiling with his eyes. Says Joe “What they can never kill went on to organize, went on to organize” From San Diego up to Maine, in every mine and mill, where working-men defend their rights, it’s there you find Joe Hill, it’s there you find Joe Hill! I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, alive as you and me. Says I “But Joe, you’re ten years dead” “I never died” said he, “I never died” said he. "The Preacher And The Slave" Long-haired preachers come out every night, Try to tell you what’s wrong and what’s right; But when asked how ’bout something to eat They will answer in voices so sweet You will eat, bye and bye, In that glorious land above the sky; Work and pray, live on hay, You’ll get pie in the sky when you die And the Starvation Army they play, And they sing and they clap and they pray, Till they get all your coin on the drum, Then they tell you when you’re on the bum Holy Rollers and Jumpers come out And they holler, they jump and they shout Give your money to Jesus, they say, He will cure all diseases today If you fight hard for children and wife- Try to get something good in this life- You’re a sinner and bad man, they tell, When you die you will sure go to hell. Workingmen of all countries, unite Side by side we for freedom will fight When the world and its wealth we have gained To the grafters we’ll sing this refrain You will eat, bye and bye, When you’ve learned how to cook and how to fry; Chop some wood, ’twill do you good Then you’ll eat in the sweet bye and bye The chorus is sung in a call and response pattern. You will eat [You will eat] bye and bye [bye and bye] In that glorious land above the sky [Way up high] Work and pray [Work and pray] live on hay [live on hay] You’ll get pie in the sky when you die [That's a lie!] You will eat [You will eat] bye and bye [bye and bye] When you’ve learned how to cook and how to fry [How to fry] Chop some wood [Chop some wood], ’twill do you good [do you good] Then you’ll eat in the sweet bye and bye [That's no lie] THE REBEL GIRL
by Joe Hill /words updated/ There are women of many descriptions In this cruel world as everyone knows Some are living in beautiful mansions And wearing the finest of clothes There's the blue blooded queen and the princess Who have charms made of diamonds and pearls But the only and true kind of lady Is the Rebel Girl chorus: She's a rebel girl, a rebel girl To the working class she's the strength of this world From Newfoundland to B.C. She's fighting for you and for me Yes she's there by our side With her courage and pride She's unequalled anywhere And I'm proud to fight for freedom With the rebel girl! Pete Seeger Lyrics
Joe Hill Lyrics I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night Alive as you or me. Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead." "I never died," says he, "I never died," says he "In Salt Lake, Joe," says I to him, Him standing by my bed. "They framed you on a murder charge." Says Joe, "But I ain't dead, Says Joe, "But I ain't dead." "The copper bosses killed you, Joe, They shot you, Joe," says I. "Takes more than guns to kill a man." Says Joe, "I didn't die," Says Joe, "I didn't die." And standing there as big as life, And smiling with his eyes, Joe says, "What they forgot to kill Went on to organize, Went on to organize." "Joe Hill ain't dead," he says to me, "Joe Hill ain't never died. Where working men are out on strike, Joe Hill is at their side, Joe Hill is at their side." "From San Diego up to Maine In every mine and mill, Where workers strike and organize," Says he, "You'll find Joe Hill." Says he, "You'll find Joe Hill." I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night Alive as you or me. Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead." "I never died," says he, "I never died," says he. Pete Seeger Lyrics
Talking Union Lyrics If you want higher wages, let me tell you what to do; You got to talk to the workers in the shop with you; You got to build you a union, got to make it strong, But if you all stick together, now, 'twont he long. You'll get shorter hours, Better working conditions. Vacations with pay, Take your kids to the seashore. It ain't quite this simple, so I better explain Just why you got to ride on the union train; 'Cause if you wait for the boss to raise your pay, We'll all be waiting till Judgment Day; We'll all he buried - gone to Heaven - Saint Peter'll be the straw boss then. Now, you know you're underpaid, hut the boss says you ain't; He speeds up the work till you're 'bout to faint, You may he down and out, but you ain't beaten, Pass out a leaflet and call a meetin' Talk it over - speak your mind - Decide to do something about it. 'Course, the boss may persuade some poor damn fool To go to your meeting and act like a stool; But you can always tell a stool, though - that's a fact; He's got a yellow streak running down his back; He doesn't have to stool - he'll always make a good living On what he takes out of blind men's cups. You got a union now; you're sitting pretty; Put some of the boys on the steering committee. The boss won't listen when one man squawks. But he's got to listen when the union talks. He better - He'll be mighty lonely one of these days. Suppose they're working you so hard it's just outrageous, They're paying you all starvation wages; You go to the boss, and the boss would yell, "Before I'd raise your pay I'd see you all in Hell." Well, he's puffing a big see-gar and feeling mighty slick, He thinks he's got your union licked. He looks out the window, and what does he see But a thousand pickets, and they all agree He's a bastard - unfair - slave driver - Bet he beats his own wife. Now, boy, you've come to the hardest time; The boss will try to bust your picket line. He'll call out the police, the National Guard; They'll tell you it's a crime to have a union card. They'll raid your meeting, hit you on the head. Call every one of you a goddamn Red - Unpatriotic - Moscow agents - Bomb throwers, even the kids. But out in Detroit here's what they found, And out in Frisco here's what they found, And out in Pittsburgh here's what they found, And down in Bethlehem here's what they found, That if you don't let Red-baiting break you up, If you don't let stool pigeons break you up, If you don't let vigilantes break you up, And if you don't let race hatred break you up - You'll win. What I mean, Take it easy - but take it!
*For The Late Rosalie Sorrels- Don’t Mourn- Organize (And Maybe Sing A Song Or Two) - In Honor Of Labor Agitator/Songwriter Joe Hill-"The Preacher And The Slave" Sung By Her Dear Friend Utah Phillips
Joe Hill’s Last Will My will is easy to decide, For there is nothing to divide, My kin don’t need to fuss and moan- “Moss does not cling to a rolling stone.” My body? Ah, If I could choose, I would to ashes it reduce, And let the merry breezes blow My dust to where some flowers grow. Perhaps some fading flower then Would come to life and bloom again. This is my last and final will, Good luck to all of you, Joe Hill Joe Hill was an IWW man. The Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) was, and is a radical union dedicated to abolishing the wage system and replacing it with a democratic system of workplace organization. Joe Hill was a migrant laborer to the US from Sweden, a poet, musician and union radical. The term “pie in the sky” is believed to come from his satirical song, “The Preacher and the Slave”. Hill was framed for murder and executed by firing squad in Salt Lake City, Utah on November 19, 1915. His last words were, “Fire!” Just before his death he wrote to fellow IWW organizer Big Bill Haywood a letter which included the famous words, “Don’t mourn, Organize”. The poem above was his will. It was set to music and became the basis of a song by Ethel Raim called “Joe Hill’s Last Will”. A praise poem by Alfred Hayes became the lyrics of the best-known song about Joe Hill, written in 1936 by Earl Robinson. This was sung so beautifully by Joan Baez at Woodstock in 1969: Joe Hill words by Alfred Hayes music by Earl Robinson I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, Alive as you and me. Says I “But Joe, you’re ten years dead” “I never died” said he, “I never died” said he. “In Salt Lake, Joe,” says I to him, him standing by my bed, “They framed you on a murder charge,” Says Joe, “But I ain’t dead,” Says Joe, “But I ain’t dead.” “The Copper Bosses killed you Joe, they shot you Joe” says I. “Takes more than guns to kill a man” Says Joe “I didn’t die” Says Joe “I didn’t die” And standing there as big as life and smiling with his eyes. Says Joe “What they can never kill went on to organize, went on to organize” From San Diego up to Maine, in every mine and mill, where working-men defend their rights, it’s there you find Joe Hill, it’s there you find Joe Hill! I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, alive as you and me. Says I “But Joe, you’re ten years dead” “I never died” said he, “I never died” said he. "The Preacher And The Slave" Long-haired preachers come out every night, Try to tell you what’s wrong and what’s right; But when asked how ’bout something to eat They will answer in voices so sweet You will eat, bye and bye, In that glorious land above the sky; Work and pray, live on hay, You’ll get pie in the sky when you die And the Starvation Army they play, And they sing and they clap and they pray, Till they get all your coin on the drum, Then they tell you when you’re on the bum Holy Rollers and Jumpers come out And they holler, they jump and they shout Give your money to Jesus, they say, He will cure all diseases today If you fight hard for children and wife- Try to get something good in this life- You’re a sinner and bad man, they tell, When you die you will sure go to hell. Workingmen of all countries, unite Side by side we for freedom will fight When the world and its wealth we have gained To the grafters we’ll sing this refrain You will eat, bye and bye, When you’ve learned how to cook and how to fry; Chop some wood, ’twill do you good Then you’ll eat in the sweet bye and bye The chorus is sung in a call and response pattern. You will eat [You will eat] bye and bye [bye and bye] In that glorious land above the sky [Way up high] Work and pray [Work and pray] live on hay [live on hay] You’ll get pie in the sky when you die [That's a lie!] You will eat [You will eat] bye and bye [bye and bye] When you’ve learned how to cook and how to fry [How to fry] Chop some wood [Chop some wood], ’twill do you good [do you good] Then you’ll eat in the sweet bye and bye [That's no lie] THE REBEL GIRL
by Joe Hill /words updated/ There are women of many descriptions In this cruel world as everyone knows Some are living in beautiful mansions And wearing the finest of clothes There's the blue blooded queen and the princess Who have charms made of diamonds and pearls But the only and true kind of lady Is the Rebel Girl chorus: She's a rebel girl, a rebel girl To the working class she's the strength of this world From Newfoundland to B.C. She's fighting for you and for me Yes she's there by our side With her courage and pride She's unequalled anywhere And I'm proud to fight for freedom With the rebel girl! Pete Seeger Lyrics
Joe Hill Lyrics I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night Alive as you or me. Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead." "I never died," says he, "I never died," says he "In Salt Lake, Joe," says I to him, Him standing by my bed. "They framed you on a murder charge." Says Joe, "But I ain't dead, Says Joe, "But I ain't dead." "The copper bosses killed you, Joe, They shot you, Joe," says I. "Takes more than guns to kill a man." Says Joe, "I didn't die," Says Joe, "I didn't die." And standing there as big as life, And smiling with his eyes, Joe says, "What they forgot to kill Went on to organize, Went on to organize." "Joe Hill ain't dead," he says to me, "Joe Hill ain't never died. Where working men are out on strike, Joe Hill is at their side, Joe Hill is at their side." "From San Diego up to Maine In every mine and mill, Where workers strike and organize," Says he, "You'll find Joe Hill." Says he, "You'll find Joe Hill." I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night Alive as you or me. Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead." "I never died," says he, "I never died," says he. Pete Seeger Lyrics
Talking Union Lyrics If you want higher wages, let me tell you what to do; You got to talk to the workers in the shop with you; You got to build you a union, got to make it strong, But if you all stick together, now, 'twont he long. You'll get shorter hours, Better working conditions. Vacations with pay, Take your kids to the seashore. It ain't quite this simple, so I better explain Just why you got to ride on the union train; 'Cause if you wait for the boss to raise your pay, We'll all be waiting till Judgment Day; We'll all he buried - gone to Heaven - Saint Peter'll be the straw boss then. Now, you know you're underpaid, hut the boss says you ain't; He speeds up the work till you're 'bout to faint, You may he down and out, but you ain't beaten, Pass out a leaflet and call a meetin' Talk it over - speak your mind - Decide to do something about it. 'Course, the boss may persuade some poor damn fool To go to your meeting and act like a stool; But you can always tell a stool, though - that's a fact; He's got a yellow streak running down his back; He doesn't have to stool - he'll always make a good living On what he takes out of blind men's cups. You got a union now; you're sitting pretty; Put some of the boys on the steering committee. The boss won't listen when one man squawks. But he's got to listen when the union talks. He better - He'll be mighty lonely one of these days. Suppose they're working you so hard it's just outrageous, They're paying you all starvation wages; You go to the boss, and the boss would yell, "Before I'd raise your pay I'd see you all in Hell." Well, he's puffing a big see-gar and feeling mighty slick, He thinks he's got your union licked. He looks out the window, and what does he see But a thousand pickets, and they all agree He's a bastard - unfair - slave driver - Bet he beats his own wife. Now, boy, you've come to the hardest time; The boss will try to bust your picket line. He'll call out the police, the National Guard; They'll tell you it's a crime to have a union card. They'll raid your meeting, hit you on the head. Call every one of you a goddamn Red - Unpatriotic - Moscow agents - Bomb throwers, even the kids. But out in Detroit here's what they found, And out in Frisco here's what they found, And out in Pittsburgh here's what they found, And down in Bethlehem here's what they found, That if you don't let Red-baiting break you up, If you don't let stool pigeons break you up, If you don't let vigilantes break you up, And if you don't let race hatred break you up - You'll win. What I mean, Take it easy - but take it!
