Dylan on Dylan

by Jeff Burger

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.

  [In the remainder of Young’s notebook entries, he is quoting Dylan, who is mostly referred to in the first person. —Ed.]

  It has to be called a name so they called 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 [aka Paul Stookey, of Peter, Paul, and Mary —Ed.] gave me the idea for the Bear Mountain Song [aka “Talking Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues” —Ed.] 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.

  October 23, 1961

  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 Café Wha? [an experience recounted in “Talkin’ New York” on Dylan’s debut LP —Ed.], playing piano with Fred Neil. Bored stiff. It was warm and stayed a whole winter. Went to see Raisin in the Sun—Lou Gossett 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 one’s 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 (Toni 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 [banjo player] 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. [“Song to Woody,” which appears on Dylan’s first album. —Ed.] Was going to sing all Woody songs—Jack [Elliott] and Cisco [Houston] 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 [“Bob Dylan: A Distinctive Folk Song Stylist,” published September 29, 1961, in the New York Times. — Ed.]—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 [Elliott]—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 [New Jersey couple Bob and Sidsel Gleason, at whose home Dylan made some early recordings. —Ed.] and stayed out there for a while in East Orange. They have a lot of tapes—his [Dylan’s] VD songs. [A reference to songs on early Minneapolis tapes, such as “VD Blues,” “VD Waltz,” and “VD City.” —Ed.] Learned a bunch of those—sung them to Woody. Should get the rest from Harold Leventhal. [Leventhal, a music manager, produced Dylan’s concert at New York’s Town Hall in April 1963. —Ed.]

  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 [Wyoming]. 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’ 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. [Sing Out! cofounder] Irwin Silber didn’t even talk to me. Never got to see [Folkways founder] 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. Showe
d the article to John Hammond—Come in and see me [he said]. 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 [folksinger] 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 [University of Minnesota] 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.

  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, every time 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 Jimmie Rodgers—Peter LaFarge is a great songwriter.

  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 [Woody Guthrie’s] Bound for Glory twice. Book should be taught to College kids—his poetry should be taught in English classes.

  Got a bad deal from [gospel and folksinger] Brother John Sellers.

  Highway 77—McKinley’s bar in Kansas to the 5th Avenue Hotel in NYC.

  We put on John Jacob [Niles’s] new double record. I like him. Too much. Sort of. Niles is really great. I think he’s a genius.

  February 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 [Congress of Racial Equality]—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 bus driver.

  “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 [sic] 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.

  42nd St. That’s about all. I went to Brooklyn Hospital. Seeing him [Woody Guthrie] 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] 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. [Leeds’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”. [Folksinger and Broadside magazine coeditor] 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.

  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.

  February 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 w
eeks and she recorded two months before me.

  Ernie Marrs [a prolific Oklahoma-born songwriter who contributed frequently to Broadside. —Ed.] 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.

  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 Hammer 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. [Dobson, a Canadian folksinger, is best known for writing “Morning Dew.” —Ed.] 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.)