BOB DYLAN 1961年接受Billy James在纽约的采访全文，采访内容比较长，但是内容挺丰富的，值得一看。

October 1961
Billy James Interview, New York City, New York
Source: The Fiddler Now Upspoke pp. 1-6.
Supposedly, but disputably so, the very first Bob Dylan interview ever, conducted by Billy
James (BJ) of Columbia Records in order to get information for the sleeve of Dylan’s first album
and for general promotional purposes. James, who was to become a close friend and adviser to
Dylan in the early years and who appeared with Dylan at many press conferences was given
the job of promoting Columbia’s new rising star. James recalls the interview thus:
“Hammond called me and said: ‘Billy, I have a marvelous boy in the studio right
now. Do you have a moment to come up? I knew that it was happening... right
there! He had such an incredible blend of influences, and presented them with
conviction. Bobby was reluctant to talk about his past. I had encountered that often
before. I was really startled to hear of all the places he had been to. He spoke with
knowledge of all those places, not like the traveling salesman who only knows the
inside of his hotel room.”
I have tried to reconstruct the interview, as far as possible, using the circulating tape (which is
in poor quality and very fragmented), two articles by Barry Miles (New Musical Express 24 April
1976; 2 July 1977) the Miles book — In His Own Words and by reference to Stephen
Pickering’s Praxis One. In the first NME article Miles gives an interview date of August 1961
which he changes to October 1961 in the second NME article: Heylin gives a date of
November of that year. Since Dylan didn’t sign to CBS until October 26th 1961, the interview is
most unlikely to have been before then and a suggested date based on available evidence is
late October – early November
BD: Well let me say that I was born in Duluth, Minnesota – give that a little plug. That’s
where I was born and uh, out in the Midwest most of my life. Well, about three–quarters
of my life around the Midwest and one quarter around the southwest – New Mexico. But
then I lived in Kansas – Marysville, Kansas and, uh, Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I bounced
around a lot as a kid.
BJ: Was that your choice?
BD: It was my choice partly. Partly it wasn’t. I ran away a lot – stuff like that. I’d rather say
just that.
BJ: When was the first time you ran away as you put it?
BD: I took off when I was in New Mexico. I lived in Gallup, New Mexico.
BJ: How old were you then?
BD: Uh, about seven. Seven – eight – something like that. For the most part my base has been
in upper – way upper – Minnesota. Almost to the border. Can I mention the town?
Hibbing, Minnesota – that’s a mining town – lumber town. I was there off and on ever
since I was about seven to seventeen.
BJ: You were in Gallup when you were seven and you took off? Were you alone?
BD: Yeah, well, I was with a carnival when I was about thirteen and I used to travel with a
carnival – all kinds of shows.
BJ: Where did you go with the carnivals?
BD: All around the Midwest. Uh, Gallup, New Mexico, then to Texas, and then... Lived in
Gallup, New Mexico and...
BJ: How far did you get when you were seven and left Gallup?
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
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BD: Oh... Well, I was with an uncle and, uh, I was in Texas, then Kansas. But this stuff you
see, I can’t really remember so hot. All I remember is basic – base things. Where I could,
uh, just base things, sort of like...
BJ: Did you go to school much?
BD: Yeah, I went to school. I graduated. I graduated from high school – that’s where I
graduated – Hibbing.
BJ: I see. Did you go to high school for four years in Hibbing?
BD: Well, I graduated. I skipped a grade.
BJ: How long were you with the carnival?
BD: I was with the carnival for a long time every year. I was with the carnival summers and
even part–ways into the winters.
BJ: What did you do?
BD: Uh, roustabout. I sung around. I didn’t sing for any money but I learned a lot of songs in
the carnival. Lot of songs that people are singing today I learned in that carnival. That’s
why I know all these songs they do now – at least a folk song – I’ve heard a version of it
or something like it before.
BJ: And you have a good memory?
BD: Yeah. I guess I’ve memorized a lot of what I’ve heard – things I can remember back.
Well, I write a lot of songs and I forget them. As soon as after I write them or sing them
out loud – to myself or something – and then I forget ‘em. But a lot of times when I take
the time to write them down I usually sing ‘em once in a while. I just wrote a new song,
about oh, last week about New York. I wish I would have recorded it. Some people are
singing it now at the Blue Angel: Ian and Sylvia. I taught it to Ian.
BJ: What made you start singing?
BD: Uh, well, I just did it you know. It was a natural thing to do. I started a long time ago too.
I started singing after I started writing. I started that when I was about ten. Ten or eleven
– and started out just country and western – Hank Williams, Lefty Frizzell kind of things.
Hank Williams had just about, had just died and I started playing sometime around there.
BJ: Was he one of your first influences?
BD: Yeah, I sang – I tried to sing everything he would sing.
BJ: What other influences have you had?
BD: Oh... I’ve had a lot of people that I tried to do things the way that they did. Ah, as it
stands now, there’s influence that maybe I’ve taken. I don’t really know the extent of the
influence that they have on what I do. Of Hank, Hank Williams was the first influence I
would think. I guess for a longer period of time than anybody else influenced. Uh,
nobody influenced what I wrote at that age because I didn’t really see anything that
anybody wrote.
BJ: Well, let’s put it this way, did you have any idols when you first started writing?
BD: Yeah, well, sure, sure. Well not when I started writing, when I was singing. I never sang
what I wrote until I got to be about eighteen or nineteen. I wrote songs when I was
younger, fifteen, but they were songs. I wrote those. I never sang anything which I
wanted to write. Y’understand? The songs I wrote at that age were just four chords
rhythm and blues songs. Based on things that the Diamonds would sing, or the Crewcuts,
or groups like this, the uh, the, you know, In The Still Of The Night kinda songs, you
know. But I don’t know, you know, whatever hit me.
BJ: What are your earliest memories of singing?
BD: Well, I’ve been singing for an awful long time. First guitar I ever had was a very old guitar
and the strings were about an inch from the keyboard. That’s why I use a flat pick when I
play now – and I never got unused to using that flat pick – because I could never get
those strings. They were heavy strings and my fingers hurt.
BJ: How old were you?
BD: About ten.
BJ: Who gave it to you?
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
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BD: Down at uh, uh... I got it in Chicago on the South Side. I think from a street singer. I
didn’t get it from him, I got it from a friend of his – Aravella Grey. He was the singer and,
uh, let’s see – there’s Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I learned a lot of songs there. I learned –
not a lot, but I learned. I didn’t learn songs, I just learned ways of singing. I learned the
way of singing I do. I didn’t really learn so many songs. There was this fellow there on a
farm right in Sioux Falls, South Dakota – a little bit out – played autoharp. And he was
just a farmhand there. He was from Kansas. I learned just ways of singing from people
like that. But I never really heard any other way. I played piano when I was seventeen. I
played piano for this rock n’ roll singer. His name is Bobby Vee and he’s a big star now, I
guess.
BJ: Now where was this?
BD: That was in Fargo, North Dakota. Then we went all around the Midwest. Went to
Wisconsin, Iowa, toured around there and then I left.
BJ: How long were you with him?
BD: I was with him for about, uh, every night – just about every night – for about a month or
two. And then as soon as I left him he got on another recording label and then I saw his
picture in big picture magazines and that kind of stuff not too long after that. So that was
sort of a disappointment. But I always figured that – I just like to feel that I know where
I’m at. Because if I know where I’m at, then I figure I got anybody beat. Because then if
nothing happens that I expect to, then if I don’t get some girl that I like, or if I don’t get
something like that, I always just figure that if I know where I’m at, then nothing will hurt
me and then I’ll never be disappointed. Then if something comes up, you know, then it’s
for the good. I mean, it’s not really pessimistic or anything like that, but it’s just that I like
to feel that I know where I’m at.
BJ: Do you?
BD: Yeah, pretty sure I do. I’m at the stage now where I never thought I could sort of look
back and see something but I knew I could sing better than all those people that are
singing now. And I knew that I could sing the same songs much better if only I had the
chance to and I’m just getting that chance to in New York. I had the chance to around
the country – but I can’t reach as many people around the country. And I’ve had the
chance just breaking for me now in New York.
BD: Because my idol is really – like when I’m even on the stage – and not even on stage – my
biggest idol goin’ all through my head all the time is Charlie Chaplin. And, uh, it’s, uh,
well, it takes a while to explain it but I’d say he’s one of the men!
BJ: When did you first see Chaplin?
BD: Ah, I seen some of his films. I just sort of knew who he was and that kind of stuff.
Vaudeville type of thing. Will Rogers. And I never really met anything — I never really
came across anything until... I never came across... I never lived in a big city until I lived
in New York and, uh, I don’t think it’s got the best of me. At least I know it hasn’t got the
better part of me. In fact I don’t think it’s touched... It might’ve touched me a little bit. In
fact it has touched me a little bit. But I never lived in a city that was more than 15,000
people and there’s an awful lot of difficulty here...
Tape breaks.
BD: (Talking about first arriving in New York City) ...and I was very stupid at the time. I was
with a friend of mine, and I played, and they flipped, and I figured...
BJ: Which Café?
BD: Café Wha. I didn’t know anything. They were having a hootenanny and that kind of stuff
and I asked if they would give me some money to play, and he looked at me and he said
he would. “I’ll give you a dollar.” So he gave me a dollar to play in the hootenanny. No,
in fact, it came to a dollar–fifty. And I played there and they flipped. They really did. I
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
18
figured if they liked me so much that maybe someone would have a place to stay that
night ‘cause I didn’t have a place to stay that night. So I asked from the stage and about
four hands went up. So my buddy and I, we sort of went and checked ‘em all and picked
out a fellow. He was with a girl. And my buddy says to me, “You don’t look so hot”,
that’s what he said. He said, “He looks pretty gay”, (James laughs). And I said, uh, I didn’t
really know anything about that kind of stuff. Well I knew, anyway, he was with a girl.
And so we went up with him and the girl got off at 34th Street and we got off at 42nd street
(Dylan laughs). Well, we went in a bar first before we went to find a place to stay and we
met his friend Dora. Dora was his friend who stayed with him. And we all went to a
party. And that was my first night in New York.
(Talking of the folk scene)
I sense they’re liking me. Maybe not the music so much. Maybe they don’t even like the
music but I feel like, if they saw me in the street or playing someplace, I feel like they
wouldn’t be so friendly.
I like the land. The people are strange in the West. I like some of the people. Don’t like
some of the people. Hard, which I never could see. Very hard people. And down South
it’s worse than that. I can’t stand city people from the South. I hate... I can’t stand,
anywhere they’re thinking...
Tape breaks
BD: I’m not a folk singer. I just sing a certain place, that’s all. And...
BJ: Is Woody a folk singer?
BD: Woody was a folk singer. Woody was a folk singer.
BJ: Why do you say you’re not?
BD: Ah, Woody was a folk singer to the point. Woody was a glorified folk singer. Woody was
a man that went back... Don’t print this on the record.
BJ: No man, no.
BD: Well, you see, Woody was a man who dwelled on a simpleness because he was getting
attention for it...
Tape breaks.
BD: I play the piano. I used to play the piano. I used to play great piano, very great. I used to
play piano like Little Richard stuff only an octave higher. And everything came out... He
played, he had a big mistake. His records were great records but could’ve been greater
records. His mistake was he played too low. If he had played high everything would have
compensated. Do you listen to Little Richard?
BJ: No.
BD: Well, Little Richard’s something else. He’s a preacher now. But I sort of played the piano
in his style. And I played everything high and amplified it.
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
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October 1961
Izzy Young Notebooks, Folklore Center, New York City, NY
Source: The Fiddler Now Upspoke, pp. 971-977.
Izzy Young, proprietor of the Folklore Center at 110 MacDougal Street in New York City’s
Greenwich Village, kept copious notes of most of what went on around him. Some of those
entries, particularly around October 1961, provide details of discussions with Bob Dylan. Some
of this is “interview” material, carefully written down by Young and checked by Dylan,
especially that part which would eventually appear as program notes for Bob’s first concert on
November 4, 1961. Other entries are just reasonably accurate paraphrasing of what Dylan had
to say.
Notebook entry for October 20, 1961 and used for the Carnegie Recital Hall program.
Bob Dylan was born in Duluth, Minnesota in 1941. He was raised in Gallup, NM and before
he came to New York earlier this year he lived in Iowa, South Dakota, North Dakota and
Kansas. He started playing carnivals at the age of fourteen, accompanying himself on guitar and
piano. He picked up harmonica about two years ago.
The University of Minnesota gave him a scholarship. He went there for some five months,
attended a dozen lectures and then left. He learned many blues songs from a Chicago street
singer named Arvella Gray. He also met a singer – Mance Lipscomb – from the Brazos River
country of Texas, through a grandson that sang rock and roll. He listened a lot to Lipscomb and
he heard Woody Guthrie’s album of Dust Bowl ballads in South Dakota. In fact Bob Dylan has
sung old jazz songs, sentimental cowboy songs and Top 40 hit parade stuff. He was always
interested in singers and didn’t know the term ‘folk music’ until he came to New York.
“It has to be called a name so they call it folk music. Very few people sing that way and it’s
being taken over by people who don’t sing that way. It’s all right but don’t call it folk music.
Stuff I do is nearer to folk music. Now I don’t want to make a lot of money, want to get along.
I want to reach more people and have a chance to sing the kind of music I sing. People have
to be ready and have seen me once already. People often say first time that it isn’t folk music.
My songs aren’t easy to listen to. My favorite singers are Dave van Ronk, Jack Elliott, Peter
Stampfel, Jim Kweskin and Rick von Schmidt. I can offer songs that tell something of this
America, no foreign songs. The songs of this land that aren’t offered over TV and radio and
very few records.”
“Groups are easy to be in. I’ve always learned the hard way. I will now, too. I dress the way I
do because I want to dress this way and not because it is cheaper or easier.”
“I started writing my songs about four or five years ago. First song was to Brigitte Bardot, for
piano. Thought if I wrote the song I’d sing it to her one day. Never met her. I’ve written some
Hillbilly songs that Carl Perkins from Nashville sings. I write talking blues on topical things.
California Brown-Eyed Baby has caught on. Noel Stookey gave me the idea for the Bear
Mountain Song and I wrote it overnight but I wasn’t there. Never sing it the same way twice
because I never wrote it down.”
“No one is really influencing me now – but actually everything does. Can’t think of anyone in
particular now.”
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
20
Notebook entry for October 23
Played piano with Bobby Vee – would have been a millionaire if I’d stayed with him. Played
piano Michigan Northwest to Montana. Sang for one dollar a day at Cafe Wha?, playing piano
with Fred Neil. Bored stiff. It was warm and stayed a whole winter. Went to see Raisin’ in the
Sun – Lou Gosset was in it. Dead Man’s Hand or Aces and Eights. I believe in them. Believe in
cards. Play a lot of cards. It’s time to cash in when you get Aces and Eights. The other things I
believe in are logical – the length of ones hair – less hair on the head more hair inside the
head & vice versa. Crew cut all hair cluttering around the brain. Let my hair grow long to be
wise and free to think. I have no religion. Tried a bunch of different religions. Churches are
divided. Can’t make up their minds neither can I. Never seen a God – can’t say till I see one...
Got a free ride to NY – came to see Woody Guthrie – Came to the Folklore Center -girl
playing with banjo (Tony Mendell). O God, this is it, this is NY. Everyone’s playing banjo
faster than I’ve been playing guitar. Couldn’t really play with them. Used to see Woody
whenever I had enough money. Met him once before in California before I was really playing
– think Jack Elliott was with him. I think Billy Faier was there, too. I was in Carmel, California
– doing nothing. During the summer. Woody impressed me. Always made a point to see him
again. Wrote a song to Woody in February of this year. Was going to sing all Woody songs –
Jack and Cisco came out. Woody carries the paper I wrote the song on. Woody likes to hear
his own songs. Woody likes my songs.
Haven’t sung anything really funny. Woody doesn’t like Joan Baez, or the Kingston Trio –
Baez for her voice is too pretty and Trio because they can’t be understood.
Sort of like NY, don’t know really. I like to walk around, just walk around. Like to ride
motorcycle – was a racer in North and South Dakota – Minnesota.
First guitar I had strings were 2 inches away from the board – had a flat pick but couldn’t play
it. Got a Martin for a present. 6 or 7 years. No one ever taught me to play guitar or
harmonica, or piano. Used to play sort of boogy woogyish type of stuff, played with rock n’
roll songs. Never knew the names of the songs, but 12 bar blues, played along with them. A
few coffee houses refused to let me play when I came to NY. Bob Shelton helped by writing
an article – talked around – someone from Elektra came down but nothing happened. Bob
Shelton been like a friend for a long time. Friends are pretty hard to come by in NY. Dave Van
Ronk has helped me along in card games because he’s always losing. I’ve been with Jack – we
have an Island upstate NY – we saw the Island out in the lake – we named the Island Delliott
Isle and swam back. Jack hasn’t taught me any songs. Jack doesn’t know that many songs.
He’s had lots of chances. I went out to the Gleasons and stayed out there for a while in East
Orange. They have a lot of tapes – his VD songs. Learned a bunch of those – sung them to
Woody. Should get the rest from Harold Leventhal.
Met Jesse Fuller in Denver at the Exodus. I was playing in a stripper place. The Gilded Garter.
Central City, a little mining town. Came down to Denver 2 summers ago – Jesse was playing
downstairs. Upstairs was Don Crawford. Learned the way he does songs – mixed his style in
with mine at the time. Before that there was a farmhand in Sioux Falls, S. D. who played the
autoharp. Picked up his way of singing (Wilbur, never knew his last name).
Cowboy styles I learned from real cowboys. Can’t remember their names. Met some in
Cheyenne. Cowboys nowadays go to Cowboy movies and sit there and criticize. Wear their
hat this way or that – pick up their way of walking from the movie. Some of them. In Central
City Denver – the Tropics – played 20 minutes, strippers worked for 40 minutes with rock n’
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
21
roll band. I’d play for 20 minutes again. Never stopped. One night I was about ready to strip
myself. Only lasted a week and a half. Worst place I ever played. A full drag.
I have different ideas about folk music now. There’s been no one around to cut records like
the old Leadbelly, Houston & Guthrie. There are young people that are singing like that, but
are being held back by commercial singers. People who have radio programs don’t play. Jim
Kweskin, Luke Faust aren’t appreciated by enough people. Folkways is the only company that
would record such stuff. Released Bill McAdoo’s Can’t Let Little Children Starve To Death.
Liked title of song but hadn’t heard it.
Went up to Folkways. I had written some songs. I says “Howdy, I’ve written some songs.
Would you publish some songs” – wouldn’t even look at them. I heard Folkways was good.
Irwin Silber didn’t even talk to me. Never got to see Moe Asch. They just about said “Go” and
I heard that Sing Out! was supposed to be helpful and friendly. Big heart. Charitable. I
thought it was the wrong place and Sing Out! was on the door. Whoever told me that was
wrong. It seems ironic I’m on a big label. The article came out on Thursday night – Bruce
Langhorne and I backed up by Carolyn Hester. Showed the article to John Hammond – Come
in and see me. I did. And he is recording me. He asked me what I do. I’ve got about 20 songs I
want to record. Some stuff I’ve written. Some stuff I’ve discovered and some stuff I stole.
That’s about it.
Used to see girls from the Bronx, at Chicago, Antioch, with their gutstring guitars, singing
Pastures of Plenty, no lipstick, Brotherhood songs. Struck me funny, not clowns, opened up a
whole new world of people. I like the NY kind of girl now. Can’t remember what the old kind
was like. Can always tell a New Yorker out of town – want everyone to know they’re from
NY. I’ve seen it happen – first 4 or 5 days people just stare at me. Down South it’s bad to say
you’re from NYC.
We played the new Bill McAdoo recording on Folkways. Gonna Walk And Talk For My
Freedom with Pete Seeger on banjo. Beatniks: 10 years ago a guy would get on a bus with a
beard, long sideburns, a hat and people would say “look at the Rabbi”. Some guy gets on a
bus today. The same people say “look at the Beatnik”. Played the Fifth Avenue Hotel for the
Kiwanis Club. Got job through Kevin Krown – for no money (I don’t like the McAdoo Record).
A lot of different acts that night -dressed up like a clown – when someone would sing two
clowns would perform. Jack just dropped in. Couldn’t hear myself- a clown rolled up to pinch
my cheek – kicked him in the nuts and no one saw. Rest of the clowns left me alone. Made
Kevin Krown buy me 10 drinks. Met Krown in Denver, came through Chicago – never got
back 75 cents owed him but stayed at his place.
OK but don’t care for classical music. Don’t go for any foreign music. I really like Irish music
and Scottish music, too. Colleges are the best audiences, much better than nightclubs. NY is
the best place for music.
School was too – lived on the Mississippi River – about 10 feet away under a great bridge. I
took some theater course. Said I had to take Science. Average credits is about 12 – you can
take 17 to 20. I enrolled with 26 credits. Narrowed it down to 20. Then down to 9. Couldn’t
even make that. Carnivals and fraternities – so much crap. So much phooey stuff. You might
as well get out and live with some other people. A big hoax. Flunked out of anthropology –
read a little, went to see the movies. One time I flunked out of English for teacher said I
couldn’t talk. Poetry we had to read, had to think about it for a long time. Poem should reach
as many people as possible. I spent more time in Kansas City about 400 miles away. A girl
friend was there. Went to High School in Upper Minnesota (Hibbing) a nothing little town.
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
22
Fargo in North Dakota – a lumberjack and mining town. Used to hop train. Big open pit. Lots
of strikes there, lots of political stuff, a real mining town.
It’s easy to criticize big money makers like Belafonte, Kingston Trio. Stuff he does is really like
a popular singer – criticized by Jazz, Folk and Calypso people and he’s making all the money.
Won’t criticize him until he sings one of my songs but then he’ll make a lot of money for me. I
liked Belafonte on the TV show.
Odetta: her and frustrated show singers – folk music is wide open for good voices. Instead of
starting out at the bottom in Opera or Show or Jazz they start at the top in folk music.
Logan English – is one guy that if I don’t have to see him – great – but the guy is just, Christ,
everytime I see him, his failure, singing folk music for there is, still trying. Logan’s singing is
one big bash of phooey. He’s terrible. Lots of people sing simple -but Logan dwells on this –
but no better – doesn’t have it. Kills him but he sings Jimmy Rodgers – Peter LaFarge is a great
song writer.
Bruce Langhorne is great. Was at a party once, playing. Let me have a guitar, didn’t have
much fingers. I can’t laugh. Read Bound for Glory twice. Book should he taught to College
kids – his poetry should be taught in English classes.
Got a bad deal from Brother John Sellers.
Highway 77 – McKinley’s bar in Kansas to the 5th Avenue Hotel in NYC.
We put on John Jacob Nile’s new double record. I like him. Too much. Sort of. Niles is really
great. I think he’s a genius.
Notebook entry for Feb, 1, 1962
Wrote a song the other night Ballad of Emmett Till. After I wrote it someone said another
song was written but not like it. I wrote it for CORE – I’m playing it Feb. 23. I think it’s the
best thing I’ve ever written. Only song I play with a capo. Stole the melody from Len
Chandler – a song he wrote about a Colorado busdriver.
“born a black skinned boy
and he was born to die”
“just a reminder to remind your fellow men
that this kind of thing still lives today
in the ghost robed Klu Klux Klan”
I bought an apartment cost 350 dollars. Rent is 80 dollars. 161 W. 4th St, c/o Walker. Getting
some money from Columbia. I’m supposed to be making all kinds of money. I seem, I don’t
play guitar if I don’t feel like playing. I’d rather get drunk. I hate coffeehouses to play at.
People come down to see freaks. Sometimes I’m in a bad mood. I don’t like the idea too
much. Carnival was different for I was with the same people. Entertainers in coffeehouses just
don’t have that togetherness.
Hope to stay in NY for a while. Might go down to New Orleans for the Mardi Gras. I like New
York. At one time I said – if it wasn’t for New York I’d move there. And I sort of like the town.
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
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42nd St. That’s about all. I went to Brooklyn Hospital. Seeing him steady for a year. I met him
when I was thirteen. He likes my songs. You have to see the notes by Stacey Williams (A
pseudonym used by Bob Shelton when writing liner notes). Never figured I’d play with
Belafonte. I practice piano at Bob’s house. Next album I’ll play piano, guitar and harmonica.
Writing a song called The Death of Robert Johnson. Columbia’s (recordings are: ed.) the
greatest of his work. Don’t like to go up to John Hammond. Ivy League kids treat me like a
king. At first I liked it. It gets sickening after a while. I took Len Chandler just to see what
would happen. He couldn’t believe it. Leed’s book comes out in April with 13 songs, 3
arrangements. Hammond isn’t a manager – more an advisor. I’m sort of disconnecting myself
from the folk music scene. I’ve got a lot of friends in for that play. Too many guys want to
make a big entertainment out of it with jazz and comedians.
30 year old guy Buffalo Bill – looks older. Why isn’t he recorded. Moe Asch has a tape –
“We’ve got guys from the South” – almost saying “he’s not dead yet”. Gil Turner brought the
tape to him. Curious to know how long the New Lost City Ramblers stayed at the Blue Angel.
Can’t see the future. I hate to think about it. It’s a drag to think about it.
How could anyone notice if I were drunk. I’m inconspicuous.
Notebook entry for February 17, 1962
Let Me Die In My Footsteps written while Gil Turner and I were in Toronto in Dec. 1961. I set
out to say something about fallout and bomb-testing but I didn’t want it to be a slogan song.
Too many of the protest songs are bad music. Exception being Which Side Are You On. Most
of the mining songs are good. Especially the bomb songs – usually awkward and with bad
music. Which takes a stand – no beating around the bush.
Came to NYC in 1960 – back to Oklahoma several times. Disastrous trip to California – no
one liked me. Felt pretty low when I left. More than 20 songs.
Notebook entry for Feb. 22, 1962
Jesse Fuller – April 20, 21, 22 – at Ann Arbor. Just me and Jesse Fuller. Concert at Goddard
College. Billy James from Columbia Records doesn’t want me to sign for too many things so as
not to interfere with their plans until the record comes out. Left my life there. Waiting for my
book to come out – more than the record. Rambling Gambling Willy is in the book. Bear
Mountain. Reminiscence Blues. Stand on the Highway. Poor Boy Blues. Talking NY. Song to
Woody Guthrie.
I wanted to write a song about 1 and a half years ago on Fallout Shelters to tune So Long It’s
Been Good To Know You. Song I wrote isn’t like the rest of them.
Carolyn Hester’s record will be out in May or next September. Mine is coming out in two
weeks and she recorded two months before me.
Emie Marrs is writing songs all over the place. I never even looked at them. To tell you the
truth, except a few. They’re pretty good, I guess.
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
24
I like Johnny Cash’s songs. Because he’s not trying to cover up. Writes real stuff. He writes a
lot of songs. I think Woody Guthrie wrote better songs. I’ve seen some songs he never
recorded.
Favorite Woody Guthrie Songs ? Jack Hammar John. At the Mound of Your Grave. Slip Knot.
Hard Traveling. I like, them all really. Except some of them are absurd. Dirty Overalls that’s
really good.
I just pick the melody out of the air sometimes.
Prestige Records, one of their guys – if Columbia doesn’t – give me a call.
Folkways asked me for contemporary songs for an album of my own songs.
Bill McAdoo’s albums are terrible. Writes songs to hold up a banner. He’s just another Leon
Bibb – same kind of voice. Don’t think there’s anything traditional about it. He’s a nice guy
though.
Alan Lomax? I like him. He stuck around one night to hear me sing at the Bitter End. Ed
McCurdy was MC. There was not time. I sang along with Bessy Jones at his house. We were
sitting around eating apples.
Sure wish Cisco Houston was still alive. I really didn’t know him. I liked him because he was
real, just a singer.
Heard Bonny Dobson last night. She’s OK, I guess. I heard Big Joe Williams when I was 9 or
10, in Chicago. I really didn’t play so much. I just followed him around. I sung then. I got a
cousin living in Chicago. He lives on the South Side. Funny thing. Big Joe Williams remembers
it.
(After writing some lyrics about the Folklore Center.)
Good songwriter? I think Paul Anka is the worst songwriter. Saw some of his songs in the hitparade book. I think Johnny Cash is the best songwriter.
Len Chandler – Ian and Sylvia have picked up some songs.
Strange Rain? I don’t understand it. Umbrella? Why can’t he say – don’t shoot off those
bombs. You ought to go to Nevada where all the stuff is going on. Go out there – you’ll find
some strange rain. I think dentists and scientists are together on this. How can you like a song
you can’t understand? In a foreign language. But this is our language. I should be able to
understand it. Said he wouldn’t understand it if I didn’t explain.
Notebook entry for March 14th, 1962
Life and Death of Don White. Actually I wrote it a long time ago. I just finished it up. What’s
the story of the song? I’ll sing it for you. Not a bunch of people suffering. One person. So it’s
justified. He was a common guy. No martyr or anything like that. But he had a right to be in
an institution when he asked.
— Every Mind Polluting Word —
25
PM East (A New York weekly) in two weeks. No contract with Leeds exclusively. If I wrote to
sell, I could do 20 a day. I’m just not. Can’t see anything in it. Some of the songs passed off as
songs! These are contemporary songs.