Singer Buffy Ford Stewart and Songwriter John Stewart.
On Day 33 we heard Phil Ochs in "Love Me, I'm a Liberal" mention those who remain with us only in spirit: Medgar Evers, JFK, Malcolm X, and singer Pete Seeger. Two years later we lost RFK and Martin Luther King. It wasn't until Obama in 2012 that Democrats had another nominee win more than 50% of the vote. Our problem is in finding candidates that both centrists and progressives will support.
John Stewart tells a story about working with Bobby Kennedy on the last whistlestop campaign, scant days before the assassination. John had only recently met Buffy Ford, who would be the love of his life, his co-star, and mother to his children. We see her here with an eye patch, the result of a 1996 operation to cure her cancer (the cost of which brought John out of retirement). In 2008, at 66, John died of a stroke on Buffy's birthday.
In 1968 the Stewarts shared the last car of the train with Bobby and Ethel. A cynic might say it was an old school political precursor of the bait-and-switch: John and Buffy would sing songs to attract crowds and then Bobby would give a speech. As they pulled out of one station a boy on a bike followed them, pedaling furiously to keep pace. Bobby leaned over the railing and, when the lad managed to catch up, gave him some sound advice: "Never run for President!"
Lyrics:
Shoot out the moon in a midnight sky. Shoot out the sun in a blackbird's eye. Shoot out a dream and don't say why. So it's up to you and I To beat our arms against the sky And keep it flying.
Maria had a store on the boulevard. For the barrio boys she worked real hard. When the bullets fly in East LA A bullet took her out today, out today.
Chorus:
Are they shooting down the Angels, yeah? You can bet your life they are. They're irresistible targets They're irresistible targets They're irresistible targets For any shooting star
1968 it has that ring Of RFK - Martin Luther King Where a dream went down On a hotel floor Dreams are what we're living for, living for.
(Repeat Chorus)
Shoot out the moon in a midnight sky. Shoot out the sun in a blackbird's eye. Shoot out a dream and don't say why. So it's up to you and I To beat our arms against the sky And to keep it flying. Keep it flying.
"Santo Domingo", one of Phil's more melodic pieces, focused on the aggressive American stance since the 1950s, an outgrowth of the rise of the U.S. as the world's primary player in the world's largest industry: arms. The contrast between the military and the peaceful people, fauna and environment is stark.
If the weapon producers can keep fear roiling abroad they can sit back at home and rake in the money, like the retired arms merchant in "At Business End":
I envy you your quiet sleep but I have gone where promise lies in shadowed doorway, castle keep, the shallow drains of orphans' eyes.
I've gone to where the prophet lost disciples to the fear we've sold and then, at business end, I've washed the blood away with beer and gold.
Like you those days and nights are past; these digits say I must retire to memoirs, pensions, myths that last, still drawing comfort from the fire.
Should peace break out, though, these countries become like the buzzards tired of their death watch.
Pacifism has all but disappeared from the national stage, where it matters, as both parties are led by hawkish nominees.
"I would leave the country," quipped one pundit after Trump's victory, "but I worry about being a victim of its foreign policy!"
After meeting Chilean folksinger Victor Jara (who would be killed along with President Salvador Allende and thousands of others 2 years later) in August, 1971, Phil's trip to South America became harrowing, as we read on Wikipedia:
In October, Ochs left Chile to visit Argentina. Later that month, after singing at a political rally in Uruguay, he and his American traveling companion David Ifshin were arrested and detained overnight. When the two returned to Argentina, they were arrested as they got off the airplane. After a brief stay in an Argentinian prison, Ochs and Ifshin were sent to Bolivia via a commercial airliner where authorities were to detain them. Ifshin had previously been warned by Argentinian leftist friends that when the authorities sent dissidents to Bolivia, they would disappear forever. When the airliner arrived in Bolivia, the American captain of the Braniff International Airways aircraft allowed Ochs and Ifshin to stay on the aircraft, and barred Bolivian authorities from entering. The aircraft then flew to Peru where the two disembarked and they were not detained. Fearful that Peruvian authorities might arrest him, Ochs returned to the United States a few days later.
In the last few years of his life Phil Ochs became affected by bipolarism, delusions (i.e. he thought someone named John Butler Train had taken over his body and will, intending to destroy him), drugs, depression, alcohol, and homelessness before he committed suicide at his sister's home in April of 1976. Even at his worst, though, Ochs was a picture of mental health compared to Orange Julius Caesar.
Lyrics:
And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth The sand is burning And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight Their courses turning
As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest The sea is churning The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
The fishermen sweat, they're pausing at their nets The day's a-burning As the warships sway and thunder in the bay Loud the morning
But the boy on the shore is throwing pebbles no more He runs a-warning That the marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
The streets are still, there's silence in the hills The town is sleeping And the farmers yawn in the gray silver dawn The fields they're keeping
As the first troops land and step into the sand The flags are weaving The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
The unsmiling sun is shining down upon The singing soldiers In the cloud dust whirl they whistle at the girls They're getting bolder
The old women sigh, think of memories gone by They shrug their shoulders The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
Ready for the tricks, their bayonets are fixed Now they are rolling And the tanks make tracks past the trembling shacks Where fear is unfolding
All the young wives afraid, turn their backs on the parade With babes they're holding The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
A bullet cracks the sound, the army hit the ground The sniper is callin' So they open their guns, a thousand to one No sense in stalling
He clutches at his head and totters on the edge Look how he's falling The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
In the red plaza square, the crowds come to stare The heat is leaning And the eyes of the dead are turning every head To the widows screaming
But the soldiers make a bid, giving candy to the kids Their teeth are gleaming The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
Up and down the coed, the generals drink a toast The wheel is spinning And the cowards and the whores are peeking Through the doors to see who's winning
But the traitors will pretend that it's getting near the end When it's beginning The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
And the crabs are crazy, they scuttle back and forth The sand is burning And the fish take flight and scatter from the sight Their courses turning
As the seagulls rest on the cold cannon nest The sea is churning The marines have landed on the shores Of Santo Domingo
This is the first half a two-part series on the contributions of Phil Ochs (1940-1976) .
Today, the humor in the 1966 tune, "Love Me, I'm a Liberal", is dated, dark and disturbing. Nevertheless, it brings up a much neglected subject: while radio talk shows are almost exclusively right wing, television comedy is the province of progressives. One wonders why some enterprising soul doesn't hire a bunch of comics to write daily hour-long radio slots and syndicate them inexpensively to radio stations.
Another topic the song inspires is the rehabilitation of the word "liberal". The Kennedys, Lenny Bruce and the counterculture laid the general groundwork, but this song began a long process of convincing people to self-identify as "liberal". This journey culminated on November 6th, 2005, with Season 7, Episode 7 of "West Wing", when candidate Arnold Vinick (played by Alan Alda) accuses Matt Santos (Jimmy Smits) of being a liberal.
I shouldn't tell this story but there's a few things you need to know
about the frenetic Alan Alda. He loves to play bridge, especially
online. While doing so, he likes to type in jokes, especially political
ones, to amuse players and kibitzers alike.
Back in 1996, with
Bill Clinton facing off
against 73 year old Bob Dole (and
Ross Perot), Alan asks everyone what we get when we cross a crooked lawyer
with a corrupt politician. Answer: Chelsea! Alda then talks about
Elizabeth Dole asking her husband, Bob, what underwear he would like to
wear in his presidential debate that night.
"Boxers or briefs?" she wonders.
He replies: "Depends."
Phil's relationship with Bob Dylan was erratic. From Wikipedia:
During the early period of his career, Ochs and Bob Dylan had a friendly rivalry. Dylan said of Ochs, "I just can't keep up with Phil. And he just keeps getting better and better and better". On another occasion, when Ochs criticized "Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?" Dylan threw him out of his limousine, saying, "You're not a folksinger. You're a journalist."
I cried when they shot Medgar Evers Tears ran down my spine I cried when they shot Mr. Kennedy As though I'd lost a father of mine But Malcolm X got what was coming He got what he asked for this time So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal
I go to civil rights rallies And I put down the old D.A.R. I love Harry and Sidney and Sammy I hope every colored boy becomes a star But don't talk about revolution That's going a little bit too far So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal
I cheered when Humphrey was chosen My faith in the system restored I'm glad the commies were thrown out of the A.F.L. C.I.O. board I love Puerto Ricans and Negros as long as they don't move next door So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal
The people of old Mississippi Should all hang their heads in shame I can't understand how their minds work What's the matter don't they watch Les Crane? But if you ask me to bus my children I hope the cops take down your name So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal
I read New republic and Nation I've learned to take every view You know, I've memorized Lerner and Golden I feel like I'm almost a Jew But when it comes to times like Korea There's no one more red, white and blue So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal
I vote for the democratic party They want the U.N. to be strong I go to all the Pete Seeger concerts He sure gets me singing those songs I'll send all the money you ask for But don't ask me to come on along So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal
Once I was young and impulsive I wore every conceivable pin Even went to the socialist meetings Learned all the old union hymns But I've grown older and wiser And that's why I'm turning you in So love me, love me, love me, I'm a liberal
