So Long, It's Been Good to Know Ya
On this date in 1967, Woody Guthrie died.
His biography is pretty well-known by now; born on an Oklahoma farm, fled the Dust Bowl, hoboed around singing to farm and factory workers, got his own radio show, developed Huntington's Chorea and spent the last few years of his life in a Brooklyn hospital. That's where Bob Dylan visited him and carried on the story from there.
Woody provided the soundtrack to much of the post-World War II populist/progressive movement in the United States. As the people moved from the country to the city and got factory jobs or joined the migrant labor pool, there was Woody. They organized and joined unions, and Woody was there too. The first rumblings of the civil rights movement bubbled up from the ground, and Woody heard them.
I've heard some say that he was really better at lyrics than at music. I don't necessarily doubt it. Doesn't matter much. He was a scrawny, squinting little runt who cheated on his wives and ditched his kids, but if he'd done nothing more than write "This Land Is Your Land" he'd still be a national hero.
As for me, one of my teachers once asked a group of us who our heroes were, and Woody immediately sprung to my mind. Why? "Because," I said, "he never shot at a man in his life, he barely raised his voice in public, and he still scared the shit out of every power-hungry greedhead who ever crossed his path."
Notice that sign on his guitar? It says "This machine kills fascists." Now that's my kind of weapon.
Benshlomo says, This man was made for you and me.
His biography is pretty well-known by now; born on an Oklahoma farm, fled the Dust Bowl, hoboed around singing to farm and factory workers, got his own radio show, developed Huntington's Chorea and spent the last few years of his life in a Brooklyn hospital. That's where Bob Dylan visited him and carried on the story from there.
Woody provided the soundtrack to much of the post-World War II populist/progressive movement in the United States. As the people moved from the country to the city and got factory jobs or joined the migrant labor pool, there was Woody. They organized and joined unions, and Woody was there too. The first rumblings of the civil rights movement bubbled up from the ground, and Woody heard them.
I've heard some say that he was really better at lyrics than at music. I don't necessarily doubt it. Doesn't matter much. He was a scrawny, squinting little runt who cheated on his wives and ditched his kids, but if he'd done nothing more than write "This Land Is Your Land" he'd still be a national hero.
As for me, one of my teachers once asked a group of us who our heroes were, and Woody immediately sprung to my mind. Why? "Because," I said, "he never shot at a man in his life, he barely raised his voice in public, and he still scared the shit out of every power-hungry greedhead who ever crossed his path."
Notice that sign on his guitar? It says "This machine kills fascists." Now that's my kind of weapon.
Benshlomo says, This man was made for you and me.
posted by benshlomo at 11:02 AM
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