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Pete Seeger: How can I keep from singing?

Folk legend Pete Seeger talks about his life in music and social activism 鈥 and the power of making millions of small changes.

By Sarah van Gelder , YES! Magazine

Pete Seeger passed away on Jan. 28, 2014 at New York-Presbyterian Hospital at the age of 94. His wife, Toshi Seeger, passed away last July. Pete was known around the world for his performance of the music of ordinary people, and for his passion for their concerns, especially labor struggles, the fight against war, civil rights, and cleaning up the Hudson River.

In New York state's Hudson Valley, where he lived for most of his life, he was known for showing up unannounced at community events, banjo in hand. And, along with Toshi, he organized the annual Clearwater Sloop Festival, named for the famous sailboat he took up and down the Hudson River, reminding people to care for and protect their iconic river.

Pete believed that change would come, not through big, grand pronouncements, but through the choices we each make. When I interviewed him in 2007, he said: 鈥淚f there鈥檚 a world here in a hundred years, it鈥檚 going to be saved by tens of millions of little things.鈥

And when I asked him about what it had meant to him to be famous for so many years, he scolded me for even asking. 鈥淔ame is a trap and an illusion,鈥 he said.

Pete Seeger has been a presence in my life since the time I was growing up in the Hudson Valley of New York. My family was among the scores who went to see him perform at a run-down little park on the Hudson with his sloop, the Clearwater, docked nearby. His songs of his love for a polluted, neglected water-way rekindled in people a yearning for connection to the great river.

Later, I heard him sing at rallies against the Vietnam War, and I knew then that there were adults who shared my passion for peace and justice.

More recently, Pete Seeger has been sending post cards to YES! with ideas for stories we might cover, and he made a donation that he said should be used to send a copy of YES! to each of the foreign embassies located in the United States.

Finally, in December [2007], I had a chance to talk to him in person. We met at the home he built himself on a ridge overlooking his beloved Hudson River. He introduced us to his wife, Toshi Seeger, told stories, sang us songs, and showed us his electric pickup truck, powered by the solar panels on his roof. Here is part of our conversation:

Sarah: When did you first realize that music, especially the music of ordinary people, would define your life?

Pete: I didn鈥檛 know it would define my life. My mother gave me a ukulele at age eight, and I sang the popular tunes of the day.
[Sings] He鈥檚 just a sentimental gentleman from Georgia 鈥

The other songs my family liked to sing were rounds.
Joy and temperance and repose 鈥

I think my mother鈥檚 father taught it to her. He was a conservative New Englander. My father鈥檚 family were radical New Englanders鈥擴nitarians and abolitionists from way back. But my mother鈥檚 father came from Tories.

Sarah: How did you go from pop music to folk music?

Pete: I was 16 when I came to New York. I had graduated to a tenor banjo in the school jazz band, and it was kind of boring鈥攋ust chords, chords, chords. Then my father took me to a mountain music and dance festival in Asheville, North Carolina, and there I saw relatively uneducated people playing great music by ear.

I鈥檒l never forget Mrs. Samantha Baumgarner, sitting back in her rocking chair with a banjo鈥攐h, she鈥檇 painted the head of her banjo with brightly colored butterflies and flowers, and she was singing funny songs, tragic songs, violent songs, 鈥淧retty Polly,鈥 about murdering your true love.

Sarah: You did some traveling with Woody Guthrie later on, didn鈥檛 you?

Pete: He taught me how to hitchhike and how to ride freight trains. You don鈥檛 get on a freight when it鈥檚 in the station鈥攖he railroad bulls will kick you off. You go about 100 yards or maybe 200 yards outside to where the train is just picking up speed and you can trot alongside it. You throw your banjo in an empty car, and then you throw yourself in. And you then might go 200 or 300 miles before you stop.

Then I would knock on back doors and say, 鈥淐an I do a little work for a meal?鈥 Or I鈥檇 sing in a saloon for a few quarters.

In six months I saw the country like I never would have seen it otherwise. I was curious to learn how workers were doing. I went out to Butte, Montana, which was a copper mining town then, and went a thousand feet down where it was hot, hot, and they were sweating, down there, working away.

They had a good union, though, and I knocked on the door and said, 鈥淚 know some union songs, would you like to hear them?鈥 And they paid me all of five dollars, which was a lot of money then, to sing some of the coal miners鈥 songs I knew from the East.

After World War II, we started a little organization we called People鈥檚 Songs. It was a very small organization; our publication had a circulation of about 2,000, and we finally went broke in 1949. The Cold War was too much for us. The ruling class knew just how to split the labor movement.

I dropped out of the communist movement about the same time as I moved up here to Beacon. I was never enthusiastic about being somebody who was supposed to be silent about being a member of something. On the other hand, I was still curious about what was happening to communist countries.

I went to the Soviet Union three times, in 1964, and in 1967, I think, and again in 1981. I concentrated on singing songs of the civil rights movement, rather than the labor movement, because that鈥檚 what really turned my life around: seeing what Dr. King did, without using force and violence, whereas the communists said the world would not be changed without a great revolution. I think that was the big mistake.

听厂补谤补丑: Did you witness for yourself what Dr. King was doing?

Pete: Toshi and I were on the march from Selma to Montgomery for three days. And I sang in Selma and Montgomery from time to time, and one time in Birmingham and in Mississippi another time.

It was only through the years that I realized what an absolutely extraordinarily thoughtful person King was. He insisted, from the beginning, in winning the bus boycott without violence.

Some of the middle-class African Americans would say, 鈥淒r. King, accept a compromise. More people are going to be hurt and killed.鈥 These were doctors and lawyers who didn鈥檛 want to lose their business. And the young people would say, 鈥淭hey bombed us. Why don鈥檛 we bomb them back?鈥 And King would bring them together to talk and listen to each other, and it might take a whole day or sometimes two days or even three days. But finally, they鈥檇 say, 鈥淥kay, this is what we鈥檒l say and this is what we鈥檒l do. Because we know we have to work together or we鈥檙e not going to win.鈥

Sarah: Besides the labor and civil rights movements, you were also involved in the anti-war movement.

Pete: There are still battles among people who are not quite sure what kind of actions can be effective. I tend to agree with Paul Hawken that it鈥檚 going to be many small things.

I think of Tommy Sands, an Irish song leader, who got song leaders from the North and the South singing together for a whole evening. They had people there who鈥檇 been killing each other鈥擯rotestants and Catholics鈥攁nd at the end of the evening, they tentatively started talking to each other.

Sarah: When you sing, 鈥淏ring Them Home,鈥 you say 鈥渙ne of the great things about America is that we can speak our minds.鈥 And you said that at a time when you had been blacklisted for many, many years. Can you talk about what it means to you to be a patriot?

Pete: Well, Toshi and I are both deeply proud that we were able to be part of the anti-Vietnam War movement. And I say this is one of the great victories for the American people.

Now here鈥檚 another story you might like. In Albany, a woman named Ruth Pelham, about 25 or 30 years ago, found she liked to make up songs for kids, and the kids in her neighborhood liked to hear her sing.

She saved up enough money to get a suitcase of instruments and a little van. She鈥檇 go to one neighborhood on Monday, another neighborhood on Tuesday, and so on, six days a week.

And it got to be a favorite thing in Albany to go to the music mobile.

And she鈥檚 a good songwriter:

We鈥檙e gonna look to the people for courage in the hard times coming ahead.
We鈥檙e gonna sing and shout, we鈥檙e gonna work it out, in the hard times coming ahead.
With people鈥檚 courage, with people鈥檚 courage, with people鈥檚 courage we can make it!

Second verse:

We鈥檙e gonna look to the people for laughter in the hard times coming ahead鈥

And people just add verses:

We鈥檝e gotta look to the people鈥檚 chutzpah!鈥

Albany is a different town than it used to be because of it. A few years ago, the mayor of Albany had a big gathering, and there were hundreds of people there with her, singing together.

Oh, I haven鈥檛 even told you about our local group! It鈥檚 called the Beacon Sloop Club. When the Clearwater first stopped here, we had a little party. A thousand people, mostly young people, came. Toshi made stone soup. You know the story of stone soup? I鈥檇 never heard of it before, but I got it published in the local paper, and Toshi fed a thousand people out of one big iron pot.

One woman brought down a chicken, and said 鈥淚 was going to feed it to my family, but they鈥檙e all here.鈥 Another brought down a roast beef鈥斺漨y family鈥檚 here, you might as well take it!鈥

And then, when the festival was over, everybody said, 鈥淣ow I鈥檝e got to get back to my family, my church, my business, my veterans鈥 organization,鈥 whatever it was.

And the next year when Clearwater started again, we had to start from scratch organizing the festival. At which point a teenager said, 鈥淲hy don鈥檛 we have a sloop club here, so we have people who know how to put on a festival.鈥

I groaned. Another organization, minutes, elections. I called a meeting but only three people showed up.

Toshi said, 鈥淒on鈥檛 call it a meeting. Call it a potluck supper.鈥 Then 30 people came. We have had a meeting the first Friday of the month for 36 years. When we have a holiday songfest, almost 200 squeeze in, and we鈥檙e practically part of the establishment. It鈥檚 funny.

Before the Clearwater started cleaning up the river, land was very cheap. This land was only $100 an acre when we bought it. Now my neighbor is trying to sell one acre for $100,000. That鈥檚 what鈥檚 happening in the Hudson Valley. The real estate people say, 鈥淲e filled up Long Island. We filled up New Jersey. Now we will fill up the Hudson Valley.鈥

Sarah: [laughing] So you never thought you were helping the real estate industry when you cleaned up the Hudson?

Pete: I was complaining to a politician in Beacon, 鈥淲e鈥檝e grown too fast, we鈥檙e doubling every 20 years. We can鈥檛 do this forever. He says 鈥淧ete! If you don鈥檛 grow you die.鈥 And, I didn鈥檛 know what to say, except at one o鈥檆lock in the morning I sat up in bed. 鈥淚f it鈥檚 true that if you don鈥檛 grow you die, doesn鈥檛 it follow that the quicker we grow the sooner we die?鈥

That doesn鈥檛 mean that we know how to solve the problem. But the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is a problem to be solved.

Sarah: One of your most famous songs is 鈥淭urn! Turn! Turn! (To everything there is a season).鈥 What kind of time do you think we鈥檙e in right now?

Pete: We are in a crisis time. I don鈥檛 give us a chance of鈥攚ell, you never can tell. There might be a little tribe somewhere in the world on some isolated island, but I see human beings wiping each other off the face of the earth. We鈥檝e invented such weapons鈥攏ot just nuclear weapons but chemical weapons and all sorts of things.

I鈥檝e been saying for years, it may be that climate change is a wake-up call for the whole human race. It鈥檚 going to be a multi-trillion dollar disaster for the rich countries, and a human disaster for the poor countries. Where鈥檚 Bangladesh going to put 45 million people? And Calcutta, and other cities? It鈥檚 going to be a disaster like nobody鈥檚 ever seen鈥攁nd I hope people like Bush and people from the oil industry are still living so that they can see what a mistake they made.

Sarah: What鈥檚 your secret to getting children singing, getting people even at Carnegie Hall singing together, getting people to fall in love with their river and take care of it? Are there some things we can learn about why people choose to get involved?

Pete: Well, it鈥檚 been my belief that learning how to do something in your hometown is the most important thing. It鈥檚 not just me who thinks this. Margaret Mead said, 鈥淣ever doubt that a small group of people can change the world; indeed it is the only thing that ever has.鈥 And the great biologist Ren茅 Dubos said, 鈥淭hink globally, act locally.鈥 And E.F. Schumacher said 鈥淪mall is beautiful.鈥 And now Paul Hawken. All these people are saying the same thing.

If there鈥檚 a world here in a hundred years, it鈥檚 going to be saved by tens of millions of little things. The powers-that-be can break up any big thing they want. They can corrupt it or co-opt it from the inside, or they can attack it from the outside. But what are they going to do about 10 million little things? They break up two of them, and three more like them spring up!

鈥 Sarah van Gelder interviewed Pete Seeger for Climate Solutions, the Spring 2008 issue of YES! Magazine. You can also watch a video excerpt of this interview and see Michael Bowman鈥檚 photo essay of Pete Seeger at home. Sarah van Gelder is executive editor of YES!

鈥 This article originally appeared in YES! Magazine, a national, nonprofit media organization that fuses powerful ideas with practical actions.