Have you ever heard a song
that hit so close to home it felt like it was written about you? Ever come across a musician who could do that
to you repeatedly? Well, that's how it
was with me, and the music of the late Harry Chapin. When I was attending broadcast journalism
trade school, it was "W.O.L.D." a song about the life of a
disc jockey. Later when I became a new
father for the first time, Harry was there with "Cats in the Cradle"-
and of course there was "Taxi" for when I did my year long
stint as a cab driver. It felt like he
was reading my mail!
One of my co-workers at the
radio station was a kindred spirit by the name of Tom Miller, who also ran the
local talent booking agency named Muskeg Magic, and was responsible for
booking some of the better entertainment on the island. One day when I was visiting his place I asked
Tom, rather jokingly, if he could please book Harry Chapin for a concert in
town. We had us a good laugh at my optimism
for the improbable and then went on to other things. I guess it was about a week later when I
passed Tom in the hallway at the station, and he pulls me aside with a huge
Cheshire cat grin on his face, saying "You'll never guess who I booked
for a concert... ask and ye shall receive, Harry Chapin's coming
next month!"
It was a late summer afternoon
in 1980 when Harry Chapin came to town, and of course it was raining as bad as
I'd ever seen. Unfortunately, he had no
idea my wife, daughter and I would be there to meet him, so a little strategy
was called for. The airport is on an
adjacent island across the channel from town, and serviced by ferries which run
every hour. Rather than risk missing him
in the terminal I decided it was better to wait for the ferry; as passengers
always disembarked pretty much single file.
The only part of my plan that was sketchy was the transportation
itself. At the time the only vehicle I
owned was an old beat up Dodge A-100...one of those pick up trucks with the
front end of a van, and the engine resting between the two seats...like someone
couldn't decide whether to build a truck or a van.
There we were straining our
eyes as the windshield madly wipers tried to keep the view clear. There were a goodly number of folks departing the ferry,
all jostling one another as each tried to calculate to shortest route to
cover. Suddenly some car headlights
flashed across a familiar face, carrying a bag and guitar case, and totally
drenched. I hopped out of the truck and
walked toward him, thinking for the first time I should have made a sign with
his name on it. As I approached his personal
space I extended my hand in greeting and said "Mr. Chapin, Your
ride is waiting over here..."
By the time we got to the truck my wife was sitting on the engine
cowling with our daughter in her lap. As
I plopped myself down in the drivers seat, Harry jumped in the passenger
side. I was about to Introduce everyone
but before I could, Harry pushes back the hood from his jacket and asks; "This
isn't an abduction, is it?" I
replied, "Nope, this is a Fanbulance, and it is at your
disposal while you're on my island....where to first, sir?"
Without missing a beat, Harry
says, "Super, I have reservations at the 'Hilltop Motel'...lets head
that way." Winding our way thru the
traffic in the ferry terminal parking lot we made it to the street and when
traffic permitted I drove across the street, parking in front of the
Hilltop Motel in full view of the terminal we'd just left. Harry had the same exact look of cognitive
dissonance on his face that I'd had when I first saw a sea level motel named
the hilltop. "Don't ask, it's
better that way." I said, and we all laughed. With about four hours until the show now,
Harry said he wanted to rest for a while, then get a bite to eat, and asked me
to pick him up in two hours.
When we returned for him
Harry looked like a crisp, new hundred dollar bill. Although the motel had an acceptable cafe
adjoining it, we took Harry downtown to the Harbor Inn where the food
and folks were both a bit more authentic. Over a meal of fresh caught local halibut
steaks we talked about many things from music, to some of the more colorful
local lore...stuff most tourists never hear about. I found this man to be relaxed, engaging and
not the least bit impressed with who he was.
He was real people, and as we conversed, it felt easy and natural, as if
we'd known each other for years. Here
was the same voice I'd been listening to for years, just shooting the breeze
with us in this little hometown diner.
It was way better than I had hoped for, an indelible memory.
Following dinner we all piled
back into my dyslexic vehicle and headed up the hill to the auditorium, it was
almost time for some music. Back in the
day I was making my daily bread as a freelance professional photographer when
not otherwise occupied. I'd asked Harry
if it was OK to grab some concert shots of the performance, and gotten his
approval; as we approached the stage entrance Tom had indicated. At this door there were two people, a
representative of the school, and a door guard.
I was more than content to just hand him off to these capable folks and
go find us a good seat, because the guard didn't look like he wanted to let me
pass. To my astonishment, Harry tells
the guard, "He's with me, he's my PR guy..." so we got in without needing our tickets, and
had the best seats in the place.
There was a much bigger crowd
flowing in than I had imagined there might be, and as much as my ego wanted to
think my radio show had something to do with the turnout; I suspected it was
more due to cabin fever. On that
island any excuse to get out of the house & break the routine was
valid. By showtime there were 250 to 300
people in attendance, roughly 8% of the towns population! It was a huge turnout for a dinky town, and
it made me feel good that I'd had a part in making it all happen.
At just after eight pm the lights dimmed as Harry strummed his 12 string
acoustic guitar, opening the concert with "Dog town" a story
song about a sleepy new England fishing town not at all unlike the one we were
in this night. After a couple more songs
I was all hunkered down and feeling fine, enjoying the experience even more
than I had anticipated I would...which was exactly when the power failed and
the place went pitch black. Undaunted,
Harry continued singing; and between his voice and the acoustics of the auditorium,
everyone could still hear just fine.
As event staff scurried about
with emergency lighting etc, Harry just kept on going, that is until he broke a
guitar string in the middle of the blackout.
As if it were part of the show, Harry began digging into his case for a
spare string, with a stagehand holding a flashlight for him. As he was replacing the string he told the
audience a true life story about the Christmas the family cat passed away. The children were of course very upset over
the death of their beloved pet on Christmas eve, and he knew he needed closure
quickly if ruining the holiday was to be avoided. They had arranged to drop the cat's body off
at a local shelter to be cremated, and the kids decided the box should be
wrapped in holiday paper, for reasons that only kids understand. As the string replacement nears competition,
so does the story. Harry explains that
he had to stop off at a relative's place to deliver gifts, and left the box
with the cat on the front seat of the car, as he climbed the many, many steps
up to their house. Just as he got to the
door, he heard his car door open down on the street...and turned around just in
time to see someone stealing the Christmas Package on the front seat. After the laughter died down he says, "I
don't know who he gave that present to but I would have loved to be there to
see it go down."
With the string replaced he
continued his solo blackout performance a while longer until the power was
finally restored and we could once again enjoy a well lit show. Seeing my favorite Chapin songs performed
live was the fulfillment of a long held wish, and rather than detracting, the
power outage just made it all the more magical somehow. An hour later he finished the concert off
with "I wonder what would happen to this world." - which I am certain
gave everyone food for thought as they slowly made their way to the exits.
Beyond the music, I admired
Harry Chapin even more because he was a true humanitarian in this world. His central cause was ending world hunger,
but as his wife Sandy once said of him: "Harry was supporting 17
relatives, 14 associations, 7 foundations, and 82 charities. Harry wasn't interested in saving
money, saying it was for people, so he just gave it away."
"And I dream that something's coming
and it's not just in the wind
it's more than just tomorrow
it's more than where we've been
it offers me a promise,
it's telling me, begin."
In 1977 Harry Chapin was the
inspiration for and a key participant in The President's Commission on World
Hunger. Four years later, on July 16, 1981 , less than a year after I met him; Harry died from a
heart attack while driving on the Long Island Expressway. Because of his charity work and philanthropy
he didn't leave a lot of money behind, which made it hard to maintain the
causes he worked so hard for; leading to the forming of The Harry Chapin
Foundation, and the Harry Chapin food Bank to address world hunger
and related issues.
A decade after his death
Harry Chapin was posthumously awarded The Congressional Gold Medal for
humanitarian work. What a lasting
tribute, that the recognition of his passionate efforts still feeds the hungry
all these many years later. Very
appropriately lyrics from his song "I wonder what would happen to this
world" are inscribed upon Harry's gravestone.
"Oh if a man tried
to take his time on Earth
and prove
before he died
what one man's life could be worth,
I wonder what would happen to this world."
They say that the
anticipation of a thing is almost as good as the getting of it, and that's just
how I always felt, waiting for the release of Harry's next album. That anticipation forever gone; I still
cannot help but wonder what kind of message he would be laying down had he
survived to this time. What additional
greatness was left in this man, what might he have gone on to accomplish?
My thoughts wander now to
other musicians of our era who passed before their time, their lives cut short
by the great mystery that is life, but whose artistic legacy
still lives on. I think of how this
cumulative loss has diminished us all, and the outpouring of love from those
whose hearts they touched while with us.
The list just keeps getting longer the older I get, but that's OK, it's
just the natural way of things; besides, like The Righteous Brothers
pointed out, Heaven has one hell of a band!
In Memory of Harry Chapin
The Last Protest Singer
"One Light in a Dark Valley"
Until Next Time ~ Be Good to Each Other