So died these men as became Athenians

James Chaney’s mother, Fannie Lee Chaney, and his brother, Ben

Now, having moved through a discussion of a number of musical responses to the Freedom Summer murders, I’d like to go back to “ThoseThree Are On My Mind,” and think through some distinctions that may help us understand best where the song fits, and how it might function for singers and listeners. By “function” I mean: “What does the song do that would inspire somebody to sing it or listen to it, given the choice?”.

It seems to me that we have a number of potentially overlapping categories of song that might help us think through what gets accomplished with “Those Three”—why an artist would find it important to sing for an audience, and why a listener or audience member might appreciate listening to it. So, I’ll propose a few categories through which we can think about the song. I’m not an expert on literary theory, so please consider this an “essay” in the sense of a testing out of a few ideas. (Read the first post on “Those Three Are On My Mind” here.)

First up, we have the category of murder ballad. For the purposes of the blog, we’ve categorized this genre with a good deal of breadth, but a narrower definition of a murder ballad would be a song containing a complete story in which the crime of murder is committed, and the listener is invited to reflect on the perspective of the victim and the killer, as well as themes of guilt, remorse, and repentance. Murder ballads, as we have seen, function a number of different ways, including as moral warnings, cathartic stories of horror, warnings to the potentially unchaste, and ways for individuals to process difficult feelings of guilt, survivorship, loss, and anxiety about death itself. In some respects, “Those Three” is not a neat fit into this category because the story it tells is incomplete, you need to know what it refers to in order for it to be effective.

Funeral Oration of Pericles

Next, we can consider the category of elegy—a mournful poem or song regarding the dead. This type of song allows us to process emotions of grief and loss. Murder ballads also might do this, but the elegy allows us to reflect on the values of the dead or the reason for the death and what they mean for us. That is, like Pericles’s Funeral Oration or Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, I suppose, it’s an opportunity for the singer and the listener to bond their experience of loss to a context of broader meaning and purpose. Simultaneously, as an exercise of mourning, the elegy allows for an end to grieving per se, however much the singer and the listener might be grieving as either immediate or far distant witness to the loss.

“So died these men as became Athenians. You, their survivors, must determine to have as unfaltering a resolution in the field, though you may pray that it may have a happier issue.” from Thucydides, The History of the Peloponnesian War

The elegy form is distinct, however, from the protest song, which is more along the lines of Phil Ochs’s “Here’s to the State ofMississippi.” A song such as Ochs’s, brilliant and biting as it is, maintains more of a critical than an empathetic stance. The point is not so much to identify with killer or with victim, but to object to the conditions that brought about the tragedy in the first place. The protest song is more angry than mournful, although both protest song and elegy may exhort individuals to act.

Finally, we have a fourth relevant category of movement song—a song that motivates protestors and forges resolve in the act of protesting. This is one kind of Freedom Summer song I left out in the last post. But, however much “Those Three Are On My Mind” might infuse a sense of resolve and determination to the cause for which the three men died, it’s difficult to imagine the song functioning in this context. It doesn’t seem to me that it plays anything like the role that a song like “(Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody) Turn Me Around,” “Oh, Freedom,” or “We Shall Overcome” might. These songs marchers might sing on a march; not so “Those Three.”

“Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody) Turn Me Around”

“Oh Freedom”

OK, although there’s something inevitably sappy about big, ensemble, bring-down-the-house sing-a-longs at the end of tribute concerts, I can’t resist this performance of “We Shall Overcome” from Pete Seeger’s 90th birthday tribute concert. There are some surprising appearances.

When there are crimes that I can see and know

Lisa Kalvelage

So, what do all these distinctions mean for Seeger and for us, and how is it important that the song serves as an elegy? The answer can perhaps best be drawn out by comparing “Those Three Are On My Mind” with another song that Seeger developed from words written by another, “My Name is Lisa Kalvelage.”

This song tells the story of what drove a naturalized American who grew up in Germany under the Nazis to join an anti-war protest during the Viet Nam War. She was arrested for picketing outside a napalm depot. Somebody sent Seeger a newspaper clipping detailing the events, and containing Kalvelage’s statement to a newspaper reporter after she was arrested.

“My Name is Lisa Kalvelage,” by Pete Seeger (Spotify) (Lyrics)

Ani DiFranco

On the tribute album, “Where Have All the Flowers Gone: The Songs of Pete Seeger,” Ani DiFranco knocks this song out of the park.

“My Name is Lisa Kalvelage,” performed by Ani DiFranco (Spotify)

As you can hear, Lisa Kalvelage expresses a belief in moral accountability for situations of injustice even if we play no direct part in them. She knows what it’s like to be charged with mass guilt, and once in a lifetime is (more than) enough. This sense of accountability is part of Seeger’s vision of the moral dimension of democratic citizenship–to refuse to stand idly by. This is where he wants to put his one grain of sand, the small balance-weight on the other side. This is how he may avoid bad conscience in a community–local, national, or otherwise–pervaded with injustice. This belief that we are all accountable for our response, regardless of our responsibility for causing the problem, is perhaps why he felt called to perform for the audiences of Freedom Summer in Mississippi and lead those people in song.

Commemorative stained-glass window,
Sage Chapel,Cornell University

In “Those Three Are On My Mind” the survivor/singer is also reflecting on what Schwerner, Chaney, and Goodman’s sacrifice means for him or her. “But, I breathe yet, and for some the sky is bright.” The injustices that “Those Three” invites us to reflect on actually, in the end, have less to do with the crime that killed them, although that is still significant, than with the crimes of systemic and racist oppression they were themselves combating.

In preparing this final piece, I happened to do what I should have done a couple posts ago and opened up the liner notes to Waist Deep in the Big Muddy and Other Love Songs, on which “Those Three Are On My Mind” appears. In it, Seeger writes:

“Those Three Are On My Mind” is by a Long Island newspaperwoman. It is one of the first songs she has ever written. As some of you may know, the last few years have seen an outpouring of songs which comment, as this one does, upon the events of the day. Many of them are too didactic. Some are mere editorials in rhyme. But the best will be heard around, whether they are played on the radio or promoted by any of the usual channels. And in our most pessimistic moments we pray that future centuries will know that, here also, poets tried to be the conscience of the country.”

In some ways, this quote from Seeger himself puts into another way how we might consider “Those Three Are On My Mind,” and, perhaps, why it is more elegy than protest–it avoids being too didactic or an editorial in rhyme. I probably haven’t avoided being too didactic in trying to unpack it, but I think that Seeger again has his finger on how the best songs function. Yes, they have content that might point a particular political and moral direction, but the best ones won’t lead only one direction and will provide us with resources that reward coming back to them again and again.

Coda

I mentioned at the outset of my posts on “Those Three Are On My Mind,” that it was challenging to take up the song, as focused as it is on a truly chilling and relatively recent act of murder that played a pivotal role in the history of movements for greater freedom in America. One point of consolation, and an informative one, is that on the tribute album I mentioned, where Kim and Reggie Harris and Magpie’s version of “Those Three,” and DiFranco’s version of “Lisa Kalvelage” appears, the song that follows “Those Three” is “How Can I Keep From Singing” by Cordelia’s Dad. An apt choice, and a great performance.

“How Can I Keep From Singing,” by Cordelia’s Dad (Spotify)

“I’ve seen Pete change the world around him. I’ve seen him set about fixing things big and small, in an everyday kinda-way. And I think if I’ve ever known peace in this world, it’s been in his voice.” —Ani DiFranco

Sing Out!

Making folk music a part of our everyday lives

So died these men as became Athenians

Related posts:

Those Three Are On My Mind

Delia / Delia’s Gone: A Digital Compendium, 1900 – 1992

Songs of Freedom Summer

Folksinger’s field report: August 5, 1964