From when my boy was a little goober and my hair was not gray.
This is from the late sixties or early seventies; the liner notes were written by novelist Iris Murdoch. Alasdair was a genius, and a very, very dear friend of mine. Though he's been gone since the mid 1980s, I still miss him terribly.
I helped Alasdair get Moe Asch at Folkways (now Smithsonian/Folkways) to distribute this fine recording in the United States. The British label was Acorn.
Here's my boy (age 12) during one of our hiking/camping expeditions to the White Mountains, 1999. His lazy-eye is showing.
That's me in the dead middle, sixteen going on seventeen. I was supposed to be working the fore-deck but instead am flirting with a blond who is obscured in this picture by other bodies.
I was 18 years old. Rita sketched me during a recording session with Don McLean, Pete Seeger, others. The thumbnail software insists on cutting off my head. Damned if I know why. Click to see the entire sketch.
Here is Rita Hurault hanging one of her art shows in either Oakland or San Francisco. I'm guessing the photo is by David Gans.
Pete insisted we share equal billing on this 1976 recording for Folkways (now Smithsonian Folkways). And so we did.
The house, an arts and crafts cottage built by Julian Burroughs a bit after the turn of the century, is in the Village of West Park, Town of Esopus. The driveway bumps up onto 9-W. The land you are looking at, on the eastern side of the house, slopes directly down to the Hudson River, with a view across to the Vanderbilt Mansion (Hyde Park).
Roxy Tower lies immediately to the east of the house where I spent my college years. The top, the lookout level, is connected to the house by a bridge. The middle floor, approached by foot on the sloping hill, provides a studio apartment. Below that is a shed sheltering old shad boats, etc. Julian Burroughs built this during the 1920s. He had too much time on his hands.
The workshop lies immediately to the west of the house where I lived during college. Julian built the workshop in the 1930s. He made the ROOF (now crumbling) out of CEMENT. Go figure. The thing resembles something out of Tolkien. Generally, the house, weird outbuildings, and overgrown grounds were perfect for a bunch of hippies - which is what I and my roommates were.
My old buddy Winker (Don Emmons) remembers all those weird and wonderful buildings in West Park. These days he's an outstanding (music) photographer and friend down in Austin.
The Hudson River as seen from the shore just below the old house in West Park. The painting was done in 1977 by one of my roommates, Bill Osborne (R.I.P.). The original hangs in our home in Rhode Island.
Another one of Bill Osborne's paintings. A seaside waterfront. 1977. Hangs in our family room.
Not a very good scan, I'm afraid. Here's "The Clearwater Songbook" edited by me, with an Intro by Seeger, and published by G. Schirmer in 1980 as a fund-raiser for the sloop. Cover photo by the great Ted Spiegel.
A C-Span BookTV performance shot at R.J. Julia Booksellers in Madison, Connecticut, while promoting DARK GENIUS OF WALL STREET.
My dear friends H.R. "Stoney" Stoneback and his wife Sparrow at a poetry conference in Paris, 2006. Stoney was probably my greatest teacher - not just of literature but of life - during my college days, and we remain blood brothers. Sparrow passed away in late May of 2008, but her soul soars.
We left Sparrow in a beautiful spot way at the back, close by to the place on Black Creek where she caught her first trout long ago.
Me, in rough psychological shape during the writing of the Vanderbilt book, and before the latest round of whiskers, 2006.
My son picking in his dorm room in Massachusetts (he's since transferred to a college in the Hudson Valley). That's a groupie stage left.
The photo is by Alice Ochs (Phil's wife) and the little girl dancing is Alice's and Phil's daughter Meegan. Gary taught me guitar and philosophy.
Blues legend Gary Davis - aka, the Rev. Gary Davis - was a great guiding light, teacher and dear friend of my adolescence. Gary died in 1972. His grave is located in Rockville Cemetery, abutting Merrick Road at the border of Lynbrook and Rockville Centre, New York, on the south shore of Long Island,quite near to where I grew up. I loved Gary very much.
Me with Seeger - benevolent mentor, wise counselor of my youth, and dear friend of more than three decades - at his home on March 7, 2008.
Along with Sparrow Stoneback, Toshi made sure I ate my greens while in college - or, more to the point, that I ate at all, given my constrained budget at the time.
Seth Davidson is at left, and my son Bill in the blue parka. Seth and Bill are college roommates. Date: March 7, 2008. Place: Pete's house overlooking the Hudson River.
Me and Seeger finish up lunch before one of our rare gigs together, this one at Hunter Mountain on Labor Day, 2000. The guy at right, whose name I forget, owns Hunter Mountain. All of it.
Here's Happy Traum (left) and Artie Traum (center), along with me (right) playing at WAMC-Albany's Linda Norris Auditorium on March 21, 2008. Very sadly, my dear friend Artie died of cancer on July 20th, 2008. The photo is by Jane Traum, Happy's wife.
Eric Von Schmidt (R.I.P.) in his studio. He was a better artist than picker, and he was a damn fine picker. Major claim to fame: His album “The Folk Blues of Eric von Schmidt” appeared strategically placed atop a pile of records laying on a table on the cover-shot for Bob Dylan’s “Bringing It All Back Home.” Talk about a plug.
My dear friend Marie Kutch (left) and buddy Susan Mulvaney enjoying a wine and cheese reception after a lecture I gave at NYU.
Stephanie Kesey, Ken's daughter-in-law and Caleb's mom, photographed by her #1 fan Zane Kesey at the farm in Pleasant Hill, Oregon. Ken introduced me to Steph and Zane many years ago in Las Vegas, of all places.
The wonderful Walker Family Band, led by my friend Jeff Walker, with whom I made music a while back at Vassar.
Pete felt honored by Bruce Springsteen's "The Seeger Sessions," but complained that it made his telephone ring too much.
A thousand years ago, in the early sixties, Jules Feiffer drew this toon of my father-in-law yelling at his dog.
