Peter Yarrow has passed. You might have to be of a certain age to understand the nostalgic sense his death raises in the minds of the once flower-generation. Peter, Paul and Mary were our voices. Their songs, virtually interchangeable with Bob Dylan’s, let the world know that the “times, they were a’ changin’” And those were our times. PP&M had a unique and beautiful blending of tenor, bass and Mary’s incomparable contralto which set up an evocative sense of chording and harmony and all of which transcended the music into a poetry that represented the soul of our generation. “I’d hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters, all over this land.”
Long before we knew the word “disco,” and eons before anyone ever used the term “clubbing,” there were coffee houses, cafes, all featuring “folk singers” and poetry readings for what had once been referred to as the “beat generation.” We were a beat behind that particular group, but the coffee houses remained a focus for music and entertainment. In Newport Beach, California, not far from where I went to high school and college in nearby Costa Mesa, we had “Dante’s Inferno;” its deep crimson painted walls still bright in my mind. Local troubadours strummed their guitars and often sang songs of their own composing. One evening our gang went to Seal Beach to hear the then popular Hoyt Axton, who didn’t “give a damn about a green back dollar.” The folk music of that era defined us in so many ways. When I was getting “short” in the army (meaning my enlistment coming to an end) I played “Leavin’ on a jet plane” over and over, Mary Travis’ voice haunting the refrain, hanging in my memory.
Those were idealistic times. We were going to fix the world, find the way for peace and love. And then we moved on into our careers, our marriages our personal and financial obligations and eventually reached the day when we wondered, “did we abandon those dreams or did they abandon us?” (Another PP&M lyric). I still wonder.
Once, many years ago, I was on a flight from Chicago to Washington, D.C. I took my aisle seat and found myself sitting next to Mary Travers. I didn’t want to disturb her in any way but was fully aware of who my traveling companion was. I said nothing and left her in peace. I could hear so many of her songs in my mind as we made that short flight, so many memories came flowing back. When we arrived in D.C., I stood back in the aisle to allow her to pass. She looked me in the eyes and said, “thank you.”
“No, no,” I replied, “I thank you. Thank you for the beautiful music that filled my youth.”
She smiled and almost seemed a touch embarrassed. I’d say it was the only personal moment I’d ever had with her, but in truth, her music and that group had been very personal for a very long time. And where has that time gone? “The answer my friend, is blowin’ in the wind, the answer is blowin’ in the wind.”