In our centennial celebration of Woody Guthrie’s murder ballads, we’ve seen that murder and death in his songs are tools to illustrate his fundamental concept of justice.  Sometimes it’s personal, as with “The Philadelphia Lawyer” and “East Texas Red“.  More often it’s political, as with “Ludlow Massacre” and “1913 Massacre” and many of the other songs on the album Struggle.  His ballad “Jesus Christ“, to which Ken introduced us several weeks ago, is a fusion of the personal and political.


“Two Good Men” and the other songs on the album from which it comes, Ballads of Sacco and Vanzetti, achieve that balance as well.  We’ll focus our closing post of the week there.

The liner notes make clear that project was commissioned by Moses Asch just after World War II, and that Woody recorded the songs to tell the story of the two anarchists who were executed in 1927, ostensibly for two murders committed during a robbery in Braintree in 1920.  Wikipedia has a lengthy article on it, though this chapter in labor history is one that always makes it in to the history books because its fallout was global.

The Passion of Sacco and Vanzetti – Ben Shahn 1931-1932

The case is still controversial today, but I’m not here to debate it.  There is no debating the fact that Sacco’s and Vanzetti’s radical politics and their opposition to World War I figured prominently in their interrogation by the police and in the ‘evidence’ presented during their trial.  That’s a matter of record.  Regardless of their guilt or innocence, they were treated as enemies of the state; justice was subservient to patriotism.

At the beginning of the trial, Judge Thayer (who, speaking to a golf acquaintance, had referred to the defendants during the trial as “those anarchist bastards”) said to the jury: “Gentlemen, I call upon you to render this service here that you have been summoned to perform with the same spirit of patriotism, courage, and devotion to duty as was exhibited by our soldier boys across the seas.”  Howard Zinn, 2006

At any rate, Woody certainly believed they were framed and murdered by the state.  So, according to his biographer Joe Klein, Woody started with great enthusiasm on the project in 1946.  But he was not happy with the songs after he finished visiting Boston, writing, and recording; so he asked Asch to shelve the project.  Asch eventually released the album in 1960.  (Here is the full album on Spotify.)  


I wonder if Woody wasn’t too hard on himself.  Certainly not every song on the album ranks among his greatest, but just listen to “Two Good Men.”  Does an Okie’s way of saying things and a simple folk melody do justice to two Italian immigrants who couldn’t find basic justice in the Land of the Free?  I think so.  And I’m not the only one.  Check out Christy Moore’s version.

It works as well with an Oklahoma drawl as it does with an Irish brogue.  Sacco, Vanzetti, and their story belong to the world.  Certainly the protests across the globe before and after they were murdered proved that even in their own time.

Loosely speaking, the entire album constitutes a set of murder ballads. More precisely, Woody creatively makes us witnesses for the defense – from the moment of the robbery (“You Souls of Boston” – Lyrics) even to the reception of Sacco and Vanzetti in heaven (“We Welcome to Heaven” – Lyrics) – and the reason for all this effort is made clear in the moving and simple “I Just Want to Sing your Name” (Lyrics).   

Niccolo Sacco’s death mask

Bart Vanzetti’s death mask

I never did see you, see you  

I never did get to meet you  

I just heard your story, story  

And I just want 

to sing your name.

Every song is propelled by Woody’s sense of justice.  “We Welcome to Heaven” particularly runs through a long string of hypocrisies (some quite odd) inherent in being American in the 20th (and you could argue in some of his examples, 21st) century.
  
But it’s a line from “Two Good Men” that really gets to the heart of the paradox.

The judge and lawyers strutted down, they done more tricks than circus clowns.

Justice in Boston in 1927 was a show, a circus orchestrated by the state for the sake of convincing its citizenry that it was ‘protecting’ them against the threat of radicalism.  In that sense then, the murderer wasn’t the man who pulled the switch on the electric chair, or the prosecutor or the judge.  The perversion of the American Dream, the sacrifice of liberty for security, *the real threat* is that, and is to blame; and no one person can be cited individually.  And it certainly takes more than a few judges and politicians to turn the dream into a nightmare.


I don’t feel as if I’m saying it the best way I could.  It’s complicated.  But as usual, Woody found a way to say it simply, though we can look back to the album Struggle to find the hardest hitting example.  The context is lynching – racist America (and not just the south) at its worst – but the message goes *way* beyond that.

“Hang Knot” – Woody Guthrie (Spotify)         Lyrics – “Hang Knot”

I don’t know who makes the law for that hang knot.
I don’t know who makes the law for that hang knot.
But the bones of many a men are whistling in the wind,
Just because they tied their laws with a hang knot.

Sacco and Vanzetti – Ben Shahn, 1931-32

Coda


I know it probably seems odd to celebrate Woody’s 100th with such heavy subject matter, but we’re not here for the sweet stuff.  And though I’m sure he appreciated a good birthday cake and pat on the back as much as anyone, ultimately Woody wasn’t really about feeding us sweets either.


Still, despite our remaining challenges, we’ve come a long way since Woody’s time and I think he’d be impressed with some of what we’ve accomplished.  But he wouldn’t stop singing about the hard work we’ve got left to do either.


Happy Birthday Woody!