Did Peter Yarrow Teach my Mom to Fear?
post 64 - a living tribute to 1/3 of Peter Paul & Mary
No! Some say grace teaches the heart to fear. I’m not so sure. I’ve also heard grace has taught the heart to sing. And that brings us back to Peter Yarrow.
Peter Yarrow – of Peter of Peter Paul & Mary - and my mom never met in person. But his music touched her. My response to his music also had a profound effect on her. Here’s what happened:
SCARED BUT OPEN
My mom tried to be open-minded but was scared of the social changes of the 1960s. They were quite the opposite of what we experience today. Back then, we were expanding our freedoms, learning to respect women, and gradually granting more rights to people who weren’t straight white men of financial means. These changes were the next natural step in realizing the promise of the American Ideal.
THE BEATLES
But, for a lot of people, these changes were scary. For a while, my mom was still open to them. She sat with my siblings to watch the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show on February 9, 1964. She didn’t know what to make of my jumping up and down, running from room to room, doing somersaults and home-plate slides on the carpet, and singing – yelling - at the top of my lungs throughout their performance.
But she still took us kids to the Beatles’ movie, “A Hard Day’s Night.” It was one of only three movies I ever saw in a theater with my mother. The two others were Mary Poppins and the first Star Wars. I fell asleep during Star Wars. But I remained fully alert during the two musicals.
PETER PAUL & MARY
Soon, my mom bought two contemporary record albums: One was the 1964 Beatles album, “A Hard Day’s Night.” The other was Peter Paul & Mary’s 1962 debut record. It was named after the trio, using the older spelling (without the ampersand and with the comma): “Peter, Paul and Mary.”
So, at a young age, I was singing “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “A Hard Day’s Night,” “I Should Have Known Better,” and “I’m Happy Just to Dance with You” as well as “500 Miles,” “This Train,” “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” and, of course, “If I Had a Hammer.” These two albums and groups shaped my music more than any others.
THE CONCRETE CRUMBLES!
The foundation of my mom’s openness came crumbling down on the day of my first “Holy Communion.” It was a big deal for a little Catholic boy to receive the “Holy Eucharist” for the first time. Like most families, mine had a big party. My mom invited everybody: My grandfolks; my aunts, uncles and cousins; our neighbors; their aunts, uncles and cousins; and their neighbors. I mean everybody. People I didn’t even know.
There I was in my white suit. My hair crew cut. My eyes beaming. My smile gleaming. My heart full of purity and joy. My mom, recognizing the festivity of the celebration, put on the Peter, Paul and Mary record. When the upbeat “This Train” came on, I ran to the center of the living room and started doing the Locomotion – or something vaguely resembling it. I hugged my mother through the entire melancholy “It’s Raining.” By the time “Lemon Tree” came on, I was exhausted and practically fell asleep on the couch.
HELL BREAKS LOOSE!
The next song was “If I Had a Hammer.” Like a teen who has eaten all he can eat, but then finds more room when the chocolate brownies come out, I suddenly found an endless reservoir of energy. In less than the two-minute and ten-second duration of the song, I darted out of the room, dashed down the stairs into the basement, ripped open the door to the tool cabinet, grabbed the hammer, sprinted back upstairs and proceeded to indelibly whack the coffee table.
Aunts froze mid-gossip. Uncles froze mid-hors-d’oeuver. My grandmother was aghast. My grandfather looked up from the sports page. Cousins searched the room for other whacking tools so they could join the fun. But, I probably got in only seven good whacks before I felt myself getting whacked back. My mom was, understandably, infuriated. She grabbed me by the ear, marched me out the door, into the car, and back to church, where I had a one-on-one audience with the monsignor.
After ten “Our Fathers,” six “Hail Marys” and feeling very very sorry for my sins, my mom drove us home to an empty house. Peter Paul & Mary were never heard again under our roof. Nor were the Beatles or any other record more modern than Johnny Mathis – except for the ones my brother snuck in, but that’s a story for another time. My mom’s fears were confirmed. She learned that rock n’ roll really is a dangerous influence on young kids.
BUT THE SEED WAS PLANTED
Twenty-something years later, I played my first professional concert. It consisted of songs by Peter Paul & Mary, the Beatles, and Me. The PPM songs went over better than the Beatles songs and I was soon labeled a “folk artist.’
I didn’t begin understanding what “folk music” is until I met Pete Seeger in 2003. But I met Peter Yarrow two years earlier at the Kerrville Folk Music Festival where I was invited by “Paul” (Noel) to play a special concert. I spent the week hanging out with Peter and Paul. They are two wonderful, wise, generous people. Role models for any musician or any conscientious citizen.
I subsequently performed a bunch of times with Peter. I haven’t gotten around to counting, but it’s somewhere between 5 and 10. We first sang together with Pete Seeger in 2005 at the Riverside Church in Manhattan. And what did we sing? “If I Had a Hammer.” Peter uses a photo from that concert as his banner on his Facebook page.
He invited me on stage at the Lincoln Center tribute to Pete Seeger in 2014. We were even booked to play a “double bill” in 2020. And I filled in for him once at a festival when he had a bad cold.
No. Peter wasn’t the guy who filled my mom’s heart with fear. Nor am I sure I am to blame. The music of Peter Yarrow and Peter Paul & Mary is an unapologetic mix of incredible energy, optimism, joy, faith, hope, and love. How could that ever fill anybody’s heart with fear?
Today, I am concerned that most of America has lost its bearings. Only 31.5% or so of eligible voters voted to preserve democracy. After four years of working to repair damaged guardrails, we are now on track to remove many of the remaining ones possibly for generations to come.
Peter Yarrow’s and PPM’s music rings with harmony, humanity, and decency. And as the photographer Robert Corwin told me, “Peter (and Noel) don’t just sing and go home.” They have dedicated their lives to living, sharing, and bolstering the values they sing about. I recommend any parent, teacher, or other mentor of children to consider exposing as many children as possible to the music, message, and work of Peter Yarrow.
Do that, and you’ll be helping to…
Keep the Flame Alive!
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I love this story and understand why your mother was so upset. I would have been too if one of my kids did the same thing. You were born to be a musician for sure! "Keep the Flame Alive"
This story is so vivid to me. I love the important part, your overall message, of course. But what is SO vivid is my First Communion party! I had the same multi generational, multi relational party (of 250 people) and a live band. My party did not, however, involve hammers. What I do recall, is multiple people asking me to dance, and I (at the wise age of 8 or 9) dancing with them, many I did not know. One teenage boy with a very wicked case of acne asked me to dance, and, for whatever reason, the facial redness, lesions and scarring frightened me. I ran off. And subsequently got chastised, but thankfully not in public. Of course, now I regret this. But the memory is a clear as can be. Keep up the wonderful stories and thank you!