Monthly Archives: June 2012

“The Scribbling Really Did Stay” – Billy Bragg on Songwriting

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By Robin Wheeler

I shook hands with the lumberjack and we went our opposite ways. I never did get a real close look at him in the clouds; and when he walked away, his head and shoulders just sort of swum away in the fog of the morning. I had made another friend I couldn’t see. And I walked along thinking, Well, now, I don’t know if I’ll ever see that man again or not, but I’ll see a lot of men a lot of places and I’ll wonder if that could be him. “The House on the Hill” from “Bound for Glory”

While strangers might not have been so friendly (or interesting) in the hotel bar on Friday night, my decision to do some time in there was a good one in the long run. The emotional prophylactic of that sterile environment prepped me for the heart-bursting level of emotion that was Saturday.

Saturday morning, none of the issues that plagued my travel attempts to Lincoln Square on Friday night reappeared. Pretty sure the universe really wanted me to stay put that night. Arrived at the Old Town School of Folk with plenty of time to stake out a good spot for Billy Bragg’s workshop: “Why Write a Song?: Protest Music in the Digital Age.” Not that there was a bad spot; the audience was kept at around 100 people, hosted in an acoustically-perfect room, going 90 minutes instead of the allotted 60.

All that for $35. And I never would have known about it had I not called the box office, begging for concert tickets two weeks ago. Sometimes it pays to be a pest.

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The Sausage Queen of Chicago Fails

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Sent from my iPad

On Jun 22, 2012, at 10:21 PM, Robin Wheeler wrote:
I’m supposed to be at a sausage party. Instead I’m 15 stories above the Chicago River,watching the sun set on one of the longest days of the year, listening to a woman, buzzed on Prosecco, rattle to her mate about… I can’t even tell. Or care. She likes the smell of cut limes. Who doesn’t? 
I’m drinking a $9 can of beer, so I have no room to judge.
The sausage  party – it’s not that kind of sausage party.  My friend

Sam invited me to have join her friends on the roof of a sausage shop in LincoIn Square. 

 

How perfectly Chicago.

I tried to go. Left my Merchandise Mart hotel for the Brown Line, keeping an eye out for a quick dinner option in case there wasn’t any sausage at the sausage party. Despite knowing the way to my train stop, I ignored my instincts, setting my trust in my phone’s GPS, which immediately panicked when faced with tall buildings.  
One hour, one chicken roti plate, and one rubbed blister on top of my foot later, and countless wrong turns later, I gave up on sausage and returned to the hotel.  
I can’t even hop the L. I’d make a terrible hobo. 

I really wanted to see Sam, to see if she’s as vivacious and music-driven as I recall. We met at a Wilco fan party in Winnetka four years ago. When
“Monday” came on she erupted in a bounce of pure, unashamed joy. I always did the same to that song, but never in public. Tonight, I wanted to leap and squeal with Sam. Being on the roof of a sausage shop just adds to the magic. 

 

But I’d reached my limit. A few short nights, trip pep, five hours on a bus, and my typical Chicago comedy of errors… I could have gone, but my gut told me to save my reserves for tomorrow. Said gut is doing the “I Told You So” Dance (Which is also done to the tune of “Monday”), so I begrudgingly heed.  

 

You wouldn’t think a place with alcohol and this view would be depressing.

Watching “Man in the Sand” on the Eve of Billy Bragg’s Woody Guthrie Tributes

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There’s no reasonable excuse for me taking 11 years to watch “Man in the Sand,” the documentary about the making of “Mermaid Avenue.” It’s been on Netflix streaming for years. The 3-CD “Mermaid Avenue” re-release that I bought in April includes a DVD of the film.

I love music documentaries. Why haven’t I watched the one about the music I love the most? Because I’m avoidant. That’s the only excuse I can conjure. Fear that it’ll disappoint, or ruin the myth.

But today, I’m watching it, since I’m leaving for Chicago early in the morning. On Saturday I’ll be seeing Billy Bragg performing Woody Guthrie songs at the Old Town School of Folk. That morning? A songwriting workshop with Bragg.

I need to brush up.

In the first few minutes of the movie, Nora Guthrie narrates that she asked Bragg to do this project to “look for the man behind the myth with me.” And then she utters what has become my favorite words from Woody: “My dad would only say, ‘All you can write is what you see.”

Okay, I’m in.

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“Soldiers in the Dust” – Chapter One

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By Kim Gutschmidt

Chapter one of Bound for Glory finds Woody Guthrie traveling in an incredibly cramped, hot, dusty boxcar with dozens of other men.  He’s armed with his guitar, trying to keep it safe as he struggles to get a little cool air to breathe and a little more comfortable place to continue his trip.

Woody talks with some of his fellow travelers, trading a few brief details about who they are.  The boxcar in which they ride had held bags of cement and the dust is choking and the hot air stifling.

Throughout the changing scenes during the ride, the pervading feeling I had, besides the discomfort the men were experiencing was the feeling of conflict.  In fact the chapter is titled “Soldiers in the Dust”.  A man Woody meets early in the chapter talks about how he can just tell which men will get into a fight and tips off those who are willing to bet on it.  Tempers are hot, men are irritable, curses fly and the arguments slack off only to heat up again at the slightest provocation.

And then when you think every man is for himself, we see examples of men willing to set aside their anger for the moment and help another.  Men stand aside and let others by the door to get a breath of fresh air.  Woody defends a young man trying to sleep.  Still the conflicts rise up again, harsh words and threats are thrown around easily.

Eventually Woody, along with another man, are shoved from the car and end up climbing to the top of the boxcar.  It’s not comfortable up there but at least there’s fresh air to breathe and not a crowd of fighting, pushing men to contend with.  It’s this part of the chapter that made the greatest impression on me.  As Woody and the other man ride on the roof of the boxcar, along with two young runaway boys, a wild, fierce rainstorm begins.  They’ve traded in one set of conflicts for one that’s wilder and potentially more dangerous than the ones they left inside the boxcar.  But this is also the time when cooperation eases their plight.  They huddle together to fight off the rain and the men and boys have sacrificed their some of their clothing to protect Woody’s guitar, lest it become soaked and ruined by the rain.

Woody rails against the storm and and says “See if I care!” and it that line I see his determined spirit.  His determination to continue in the face of adversity and the little group on the roof of the boxcar illustrates the idea that if we’re going to face a seemingly unbeatable conflict, we need to pool our resources and band together.

Shoes

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By Robin Wheeler
I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time on Thursday, May third. Late afternoon, as the tide rolled in at Santa Cruz, after I traveled 2100 miles.
I started in a parking lot on top of a short cliff, stretched away from the boardwalk with its rides and barking sea lions. I could hear them across the water when the ocean retreated.
“You know it’s always been my dream to see a boardwalk,” Clara Jane told me when I described the scene to her on the phone. My daughter’s an 8-year-old Midwesterner; she didn’t know what a boardwalk was until she read about them a month ago. I’ll bring her next time.

The water was a long way down and a hike across deep sand marked with char left from beach fires and a giant peace sign made from flowers sprouted in the sand, given body from twigs and shell fragments.

Close enough that I could hear the power of the waves and smell the bright saline air. So tired from over 12 hours of travel, but I’ll never have a first time at the Pacific Ocean. I climbed. Down the twisting, sand-covered metal steps, kicking off my sensible vegan Mary Jane mules and plunging my tired skin into the cold sand.

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The Forward From the Top Floor Corner

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My dear friend Kim Gutschmidt, who’s been in my life since 2000, is one of the most well-read people I know. She devours books, and processes them better than just about anyone. This is a woman who’s been known to hold a book with one hand while scrubbing her bathroom floor with the other. I’ve been so excited to read her take on “Bound for Glory.” You’ll hopefully have the opportunity to read lots from her, as she’s planning to write about each chapter on her blog, Top Floor Corner.

Kim’s a Mississippi native, but has lived in Magdeburg, Germany, for … what? Fifteen years? She shares her life with her husband. And it’s an interesting life full of love, spread across continents. Every few years, when she visits her family in Mississippi, I try to make the trip to Memphis to spend some time with her. It’s always a riot of barbecue and laughter when I’m with Kim. And knitting. Lots of knitting.

Kim and I have a running joke that we’re identical cousins: We laugh alike, we walk alike, at times we even talk about. You could lose your mind. Really.

Here we are at Corky’s in Memphis in 2007. Kim’s on the left, and I’m just happy to be there. On the road to spend time with an amazing person: best thing ever.

Here’s Kim’s take on Pete Seeger’s “Bound for Glory” foreward. You can read what she said about it on her blog, too. - Robin

The edition of Bound for Glory that I have has a foreword written by the great singer/songwriter Pete Seeger.  I don’t know when he wrote it but I assume it was shortly after Woody’s death in October, 1967.  I was also made aware that after the film, Bound for Glory, was released in 1976 the book, Bound for Glory, was re-released and Studs Terkel also wrote a foreword for the book.  I’d be interested in Stud’s take on Woody and his book as he was another champion of working people.

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Bound for California, Chicago, and …?

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By Robin Wheeler

In May I spent eight out of sixteen days traveling, mostly chasing Woody Guthrie-related tributes. It’s been almost two weeks since I returned from my last jaunt, and I’m struggling to articulate where I’ve been and what I did. Just as I’m struggling with what comes next. And struggling to decide if this project is worth more than just my own entertainment.

Turns out, it’s not just for my entertainment. Just when I was on the verge of shutting down, we got our first submission about “Bound for Glory”! My dear friend Kim Gutschmidt’s thoughts on the first chapter will be posted on Monday. Kim’s from Germany by way of Mississippi, and one of the smartest people I know. No doubt she’s going to have some interesting things to say.

May began with my first trip west of Nevada for the annual John Steinbeck Festival in Salinas, California. My old friend Mary, who’s been reading my blog since damn near its inception, gave me a wonderful opportunity to write about this year’s Steinbeck Festival honoring Guthrie. She’s been hounding me for years to come to the festival, so obviously I couldn’t say no. And I’m so glad that was the case.

This was my view during the third day of the festival while I had my coffee and a perfect strawberry scone from The Bakery Station and did some writing that’ll appear here someday soon. Behind me, bustling little Old Town Salinas. I didn’t get into a vehicle during my entire visit, what with everything being walking distance.

It’s easy to see why Midwesterners in the Great Depression were convinced this was the Promised Land. I didn’t want to leave.

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