The folk trio Peter, Paul & Mary looms large in my memory.
During the late 1960s, in the time of the Vietnam War, we lived in Bangkok, Thailand. That was when I first heard a Peter, Paul & Mary recording -- Album 1700 -- played on the wonderful new stereo system my father had just assembled. This was a momentous occasion for so many reasons it might be a story all by itself: the stereo system replaced a 1950s-era teak wood Grundig behemoth, so it marked a major change in sound quality. The album, as heard through this new equipment sounded like a folk concert was taking place in our living room. Most of all, however, this was a powerful piece of Americana -- a voice of home -- that fed a hunger I had felt but never understood. I loved the British music we heard over BBC radio, but Peter Yarrow, Noel Paul Stookey, and Mary Travers were voices from back home. They provided a lifeline I would cling to for the rest of my life.
Mary stood out for me. I'll admit that I was sorely disappointed that she played nothing more interesting than tambourine or slide whistle, because that gave my brothers a reason to insist that guys were better musicians -- but that voice! Oh, how she sang! I learned how to sing harmony by trying to sing Mary's part on every song, not just those where she sang the lead and learned how to give character to a song through mimicking her rich interpretations. For me, the voice of Mary Travers was the foundation upon which all my love for folk music rested. There were many more women to hear and admire later, when we returned to the U.S., but it was years before I heard them.
My father -- who set so many standards for me -- loved Mary's voice, too. When I look back at the strident anti-war efforts of Peter, Paul & Mary, I am amazed that my Air Force Major father was not opposed to them and their politics, but apparently their renditions of folk songs were dear to him as well. While he screened out others, like Joan Baez, Buffy Ste. Marie, and Bob Dylan, Peter, Paul & Mary albums were favorites.
In 2004, I had the great privilege of meeting Noel Paul Stookey at the NorthEast Regional Folk Alliance conference, and the following year I got a hug from Peter Yarrow, but by then Mary was battling leukemia. A bone marrow transplant bought her some time, and allowed for a few more concerts, but we lost her today at the age of 72.
We're so lucky to live in this era of recording excellence, that her voice is not silenced. Time to play those beloved CDs again and sing along.
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Comments: 24
I imagine that being such a long way from home back then did give these songs added import. Peter Paul and Mary rode with me long hours on my first horse Shadrack. I sang their songs, and Shad listened. When their songs were played on my old red transistor radio the volume was turned all the way up.
Years ago, I often traveled with cassette tapes of Peter, Paul, and Mary.
I sang along with all the songs as "we" sped along country roads.
I went looking for the NPR tribute online and thought they did a nice job, but it was insufficient to the impact she had on our culture, honestly.
When we think of the 1960s, folk music's "revival" -- which amounts to getting it onto the airwaves -- is the soundtrack, and it's most often Mary's voice we conjure. It might be Bob Dylan's songs, it might be something other than anti-war protests as the visual images, but somehow it is always PP&M for the soundtrack.
When Peter Yarrow came to NERFA to speak, his sincerity and enthusiasm swept us all up into the moment; we sang along, we laughed, and we wept -- how much more powerful would it have been to have the full trio there?
I went to a production of Hair tonight (or is that last night?), and at the end the cast gave a tribute to Mary Travers and made us all sing "Blowing in the Wind". It was fun to see the collection of "old hippies" who made up much of the audience (many came "in period costume", too), and the young people who came with them (and of course the young people who made up the cast) sing the song together.
(It was also funny how I knew the words better than Americans my age or younger, due to the time-warp effect I mentioned before.)
When Noel Paul Stookey came to NERFA, he had the very difficult task of speaking to us right after we'd learned that W was going to sit in the oval office for 4 more years. Most of us were heartbroken zombies, and Noel had to speak to us about not giving up, about realizing that this is where so many songs came from: finding a way out of despair. He was the perfect speaker for that day.
We do the same thing when we sing and play those old songs for kids at daycare centers, camps, and festivals. Mary would have applauded your daycare singalongs, Kylee.