This Month in Music History
by Adam Goldstein
The Metropolitan
It is impossible to separate the life of Woody Guthrie from his art. His private dreams and dramas were inextricably woven into the reams of his lyrics and poems. The cartoons he drew reflected a finely honed political conscience, while the simpler store signs he painted for wages spoke of a more utilitarian talent. But it was the simple, stark melodies that sprung from his guitar and the gruff, welcoming voice that boomed from his wiry frame that served as his most forceful autobiography.
Guthrie sang of rambling and roving from first-hand experience. He began his career as an itinerant jack-of-all-trades at the age of 15 after his mother, suffering from a mysterious malady that would ultimately claim her son, had been committed to a mental hospital. At roughly the same time, Guthrie's father was carted away after being gravely injured in a fire.
Although he would reunite briefly with his father, this practical parental loss would forever change the child, who subsequently set up camp in an isolated clubhouse in the wilderness. Guthrie, wracked by his personal tragedy and loss, took refuge in a life without roots, without attachments, without the accompanying pain and vulnerability.
His adult life would follow a similar pattern of restlessness and endless drifting. From his homestead in Okemah, Okla., Guthrie headed to Pampa, Texas in 1929 to join extended family. He found a passion for music, quickly learning guitar, mandolin, and violin. The historical forces that blew in the arid southern air shaped his budding art, and as the worst of dust storms drove scores of migrants from their homes, Guthrie transposed this living drama into simple ballads.
By 1942, Guthrie had built a national reputation as a champion of the downtrodden. He composed anthems for the dispossessed: "Dust Bowl Ballads" that brutally exposed the plight of the nation's workers. He lived in Los Angeles and New York, crisscrossed the entire country in between, slept under bridges, stole rides on trains, shared meals with hobos, and rallied the hungry in the migrant camps. He captured the sympathy of a nation in his song, "This Land Is Your Land," a folk anthem that still resonates with its heartfelt intensity.
During his rise to acclaim, Guthrie seeped himself in change. His art reflected his ephemeral lifestyle, and his ephemeral lifestyle found its roots in the tragedies that had stained his early life. It seemed that Guthrie was destined to float between homes, between women, between bases ... until he met Marjorie Mazia in 1943.
Mazia, a young dancer who was moved to tears by Guthrie's songs and stories, found a grizzled traveler brimming with verses and stories, tall tales and heartbreaking poetry. Guthrie found the constancy that he had so long eluded. Both found love at first sight.
Guthrie and Mazia were married in November, 1945 while Woody was on furlough from the Merchant Marines. The long engagement was marked by drama and strife: Mazia was engaged when the two met, Guthrie was reluctant to abandon his wanderings (and ultimately never succeeded), and both were plagued by doubts. Yet, for all the troubles and struggles that marked their relationship, before and after their marriage, their union represented a watershed in both their lives.
Guthrie was never able to fully dismiss his restlessness. His life continued to center on different places, professions, and even lovers. However, Marjorie represented one of the rare islands of stability in a sea of change and transformation; she was the mother of his children, his constant confidante, and a source of sanity. |
