We received the sad news yesterday of the passing of one of the great revival singers of traditional songs, a teller of tall tales, and a pillar of the Chicago folk song community: our dear friend Art Thieme. Art passed away Tuesday evening, May 26, due to complications from MS, with which he had struggled in recent years.

Long-time Sing Out! contributor (and former columnist) Bob Blackman sent along this remembrance of Art.

Art on the jawharp.
photo by Robert Barclay ©
from the Sing Out! Resource Center

Although Art Thieme stopped performing around twenty years ago, I still remember him as one of the all-time great interpreters of American folksongs.

Art was a major presence on the coffeehouse and festival circuit, especially in the Midwest, from the mid-’70s into the ’90s. His performances combined a deep love and appreciation for traditional songs with a sense of humor that rivaled Utah Phillips. Like Utah, Art realized that the jokes and puns and tall tales would grab an audience´s attention, and then he could retain their rapt interest when he switched to the songs. His patter was hilariously entertaining, but when it came to the music itself, the songs were always front and center; he sang every lyric with perfect enunciation, and his understanding of each song´s history illuminated its richness.

Art especially loved cowboy music – one of his personal favorites (recorded on his first LP, Outright Bold-Faced Lies, on Kicking Mule in 1977) was a cowboy version of “Barbara Allen” that he collected himself. He also collected Midwestern songs and lore, which he spotlighted on his second LP, Songs of the Heartland (1980). And he loved stories, whether in old traditional ballads or outrageous tall tales like his classic “Great Turtle Drive.”

Like Pete Seeger, Art believed in bringing folk music to any audience he could reach. He played countless school shows, where I´m sure his humor (and the rubber chicken he´d pull out of his banjo case) kept the children enthralled when a more serious singer would have lost them within five minutes. For decades, he did a regular Thursday night gig at the No Exit, a pizza place in Evanston. That´s the first place I heard and met him, as he gamely sang his traditional repertoire against a backdrop of chatter, clinking glasses, and even inebriated patrons trying to converse with him in mid-song. As the number of folk venues dried up in Chicago and elsewhere, Art performed for tourists on riverboats that sailed up and down the Mississippi. It wasn´t the easiest gig – a long drive to the dock, and very lengthy days strolling the boat – but it was a way to provide for his family, and another audience for those songs and stories.

As Art´s health declined (several back surgeries were finally followed by the diagnosis of MS in 1997) and he had to stop performing, he kept in touch with friends via the Internet (especially on mudcat.org). He was always eager to share information about songs and swap jokes. A couple of CD retrospectives compiled old concert recordings (Chicago Town & Points West on Folk-Legacy, The Older I Get, the Better I Was on Waterbug) to supplement his previous albums.

Art with his son Chris … early 1980s.
Photo by Cathy Fink
from The Sing Out! Resource Center

Like his fellow Chicagoan, film critic Roger Ebert, Art´s spirit managed to survive intact despite physical disabilities that would devastate many of us. He made the best of whatever life threw at him, always grateful for his wife Carol and son Chris, his many friends, and the endless riches of folk music. Those of us lucky enough to have known him, and to have heard him in concert, learned a lot – lots of songs, lots of jokes, and lots of lessons in how to face adversity with amazing grace and humor.

— Bob Blackman