Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Speaking with Peter, Paul and Mary’s Noel Stookey

Noel Paul Stookey – Photo Courtesy of the Artist

By Elliot Stephen Cohen - All Rights Reserved

"I think I understood early on that folk music’s full capacity wasn’t just three chords,” says Noel Stookey. “You could also express social concerns and different nuances of love and spiritual concerns. There’s a redemptive quality to the music. Suddenly we chance to talk about the ethical landscape of America.”

Born Noel Paul Stookey on December 30, 1937, he adopted the moniker “Paul” in 1962 , as part of the iconic musical trio Peter, Paul and Mary. Along with Peter Yarrow and Mary Travers, the group achieved massive fame in the ‘60s for such recordings as “Blowin’ In The Wind,” “Puff (The Magic Dragon),” “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Allright,” “If I Had A Hammer,” “I Dig Rock and Roll Music” and “Leaving On A Jet Plane.”

The group disbanded in 1970, but re-formed eight years later and stayed together until Mary’s passing in 2009. All three members also pursued solo careers, and Stookey and Yarrow still occasionally perform together.

A born-again Christian since 1968, Stookey’s music has been highly influenced by his religious beliefs. The royalties for his best-known composition, “The Wedding Song” (There Is Love) have been administered by the Public Domain Foundation, which has raised nearly $2 million for various charities.

His most recent work, a CD/DVD At Home: The Maine Tour, is a “live” 24 song document of a month long tour of his adopted home state.

Stookey will be joining Peter Yarrow at Englewood, New Jersey’s BergenPAC theater on Thursday.

He says, “It will certainly be a fun show. I think the hallmark of Peter, Paul and Mary was always that certain degree of unpredictability. That, of course, also keeps it fresh for me and Peter when it comes to the selection of material and presentation.”

Elliot Stephen Cohen: In Peter, Paul and Mary, you were the one who came from a rock and roll background, but I understand you were not a big Elvis fan.

Noel Stookey: You know, I never really paid any attention to him until I watched the television special he did towards the end of his career, the one where he was wearing black leather and sitting around in a square with the other musicians. That did it for me. I became a fan. It was still a little schlocky, a little forced, but still, it was a much more casual access to the man. I had much more interest in his music from that point on. I tend to look more at the substance of a lyric than the charisma of a performance.

ESC: So, as a teenager, you were more attracted to the black R&B vocal groups like The Moonglows and The Charms than solo performers like Elvis, Chuck Berry or Buddy Holly.

NS: Absolutely. Pontiac, Michigan had a great rhythm and blues store with a big guard dog who kept an eye on things. (Laughs.) Yeah, I would leave the store with records that really nobody else in my high school knew about because they weren’t fans of that music. My band and I went on a talent show on WXYZ and won a talent show with our version of The Cadillacs’ “Humdinger.”

ESC: What was the make-up of your group?

NS: We had a sax player, a bass player, a drummer and three vocalists plus myself and my guitar. We were actually a pretty good band. We were called the Birds of Paradise, and we were as black as white kids could be in the mid ‘50s.

ESC: Was hearing R&B records on the radio your first real exposure to black culture?

NS: Yes, because at my school, we had just one token black kid. I’ll bet there’s not one musician you talk to who doesn’t give thanks to this great language that cuts across all racial barriers. You know, music is just what it is. You either like it or you don’t. It has nothing to do with what you look like.

ESC: When you entered college, it was a very turbulent time in America, when President Eisenhower had to call in the National Guard, just so black students could enroll in a college. Did you see a lot of that firsthand at your school?

NS: No. Michigan State had a very diverse student body. Everybody hung out with everybody else. I was never aware of any racial lines that had to be drawn. It was the same as when I arrived in Greenwich Village in the (early) ‘60s. Richie Havens was a painter living down the hall in the apartment building. We used to hang out... As a matter-of-fact, when Peter, Paul and Mary joined the march on Washington (in 1963), it was kind-of like, “You mean everyone doesn’t think like us?” I grew up pretty colorblind. Actually, I am literally colorblind. (Huge laugh.) I don’t know if that has anything to do with my heart space.

NS: As someone who has always been very political, marching against the Vietnam War and endorsing Eugene McCarthy and George McGovern for president, how do you feel about the two presumptive presidential nominees?

NS : Well, I really hate to say anything about Trump because he is such a distorted, ugly caricature of an American success story. Someone who has built a career on a persona of putting personal gain ahead of everything. I loved Bernie, his accessibility, the fact that he spoke to a younger generation, and I loved his graciousness. There are not a lot of politicians who still have that old-school regard and respect for one another. That’s another reason it’s very difficult to be respectful of Trump, who in a sense demands that we treat him in kind. I don’t have any quarrel with Hilary. I think she’s the best-qualified to lead our country in the next four years.

ESC: What was life like for you in the Village of the early ‘60s.

NS: Well, I was working as a standup comic and master of ceremonies at The Gaslight, which was one of the pivotal coffee houses in the Village. I say pivotal because Dylan passed though there, also Len Chandler, Tom Paxton ... and many other really talented people.

ESC: It seems the Village was such a Renaissance place, not just for musicians, but also for comedians like Woody Allen, Dick Gregory, Mort Sahl, Bill Cosby and others, plus it was such a hotbed for social activism.

NS: Absolutely, and nobody stood on principle. Everybody was really pleased to have somebody else sing their song or play their guitar style. Nobody considered it thievery. What do they say, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

ESC: What is the story behind the formation of Peter, Paul and Mary?

NS: I had met Albert Grossman who was known as the quiet man who could get you gigs at important places. One night after a show, he called me over to his table and said, “Have you ever considered being in a group?” I was a little ... I wouldn’t say crestfallen, but I was forthcoming with him. I said, “No, but I have some stuff I want to do on my own first.”

ESC: So, where do Peter and Mary come in?

NS: Peter said that I could continue to work solo, but also that Albert was willing to invest money in a trio. So, we pulled together about a half dozen songs and played them for him and his partner, John Court. I remember John saying, “If nothing happens, you’re gonna happen.” I thought that was almost like a guarantee, and yet we were all totally surprised when the reactions from audiences kept getting bigger and bigger.

ESC: At that time you were still known as Noel.

NS: Yes. We were still looking for a group name, and The Willows was one of the contenders. Then Albert said to me, “If you’re willing to change your name to Paul, we can call the group, Peter, Paul and Mary.” I said, ”I’ll take it as a middle name, but I’m not gonna change my name.” Little did I know, Elliot, about a year later, when the success started, that my middle name had overtaken me. At that point, there was really nothing I could do about it.

ESC: How did the group first become aware of “Blowin’ In The Wind?”

NS: We were working at The Village Gate, and Albert brought us an acetate demo with two songs. One side was “Blowin’ In The Wind,” the other was “Don’t Think Twice ...” We immediately loved them both. Dylan hadn’t really happened. So, we were really probably six months or a year ahead of Dylan, in terms of public recognition.

ESC: What did Dylan think of your recording of those songs?

NS: Oh, I knew Dylan from way before we were doing his songs. My first meeting with him was introducing him at The Gaslight. This was not all that impressive because at that time he was just doing everybody’s else’s music, mostly traditional stuff. When he came back about a half a year later, he sang a variation of a talking blues that was so funny and such a clever parody on the concept of the original piece that I realized, “Hey, there’s something really amazing going on with this guy.” He had the ability to go beyond the usual folk paradigm and take the structure and create contemporary thought with it.

ESC: In 1963, Peter, Paul and Mary were huge in terms of record sales, but the following year the Beatles’-led British Invasion changed everything for most American artists. However, in 1965, the American musicians responded with a new genre, folk-rock. Dylan went electric, as did Simon and Garfunkel and other folkies like Roger McGuinn, David Crosby and John Sebastian. As your record sales were falling way behind these artists, did you and Peter ever consider trading in your acoustic guitars for a couple of electrics and latching on to the folk-rock bandwagon? Was it a matter of integrity?

NS: No, because that implies that we had a choice. It was really more a matter of taste. I think if we did switch to electric guitars, it would have been a lot harder for Peter than me (laughs), but I don’t think the idea was to be relevant, as much as timeless. I made the choice for a deeper significance. What we were talking about didn’t need amplification. In many cases, the message would have suffered because then it wouldn’t have been as intimate. I think our audiences always felt that they were a part of the process. Playing acoustic makes everything much more invitational and accessible. That’s not to take anything away from the amazing musicianship of rock and roll artists, then and now.

ESC: What memories do you have of touring with Mary those last few years after she was diagnosed with Leukemia.

NS: She was actually pretty much on top of things, except for maybe the last couple of months. She referred to the breathing apparatus dangling around her neck as “my new jewelry.” Amazingly, even with it, she could still hold a long note. I think in her later years she became a softer, lovelier, more caring and giving person. Those were attributes that were very hard to come by for Mary because she had a very hard life, particularly a very rough childhood. So it was grand to see her in a more accepting, loving mode than I’d ever seen of her before.

ESC: I’ve asked this question of Peter before... Of course Mary can’t be replaced, but do you think a lot of people coming to see both of you in concert wonder why there isn’t another female singer to better replicate the classic Peter, Paul and Mary sound that so many of them grew up on?

NS: No, I don’t think that the audience who comes to our concerts are in any way disappointed. I think, they’re kind-of surprised at how much the absence of Mary suggests her presence by and large, when they sing Mary’s parts. We’ve had a wonderful season, a wonderful run, and we’d really like to be remembered for who we are, not for who we might be if we had another voice added.

ESC: Of all the great Peter and Paul recordings, could you name your three or four personal favorites?

NS: I would have to say I loved Mary’s answer to that, which was, “All of the songs are favorites. They’re like children. It’s just that some of them behave better on some nights than others.” I always thought that was a very smooth answer.

ESC: ... and what you’re most proud of, from your long and distinguished career?

NS: I suppose just being transparent. I ain’t totally there, yet. I’m a student of transparency. If I can be remembered for the love that shone through it, then I’ll be a really happy puppy.

Elliot Cohen

A native of New York City, Elliot Stephen Cohen has been a regular contributor to such noted music magazines as Record Collector, Bass Player, Vintage Guitar, Relix and many others. A freelance music journalist for 30+ years, Elliot keeps his finger on the pulse of the current music scene, as well as demonstrating a keen appreciation and knowledge of Classic Rock and the iconic artists who created it. You may contact Elliot with any comments or questions at talking.with.music.stars7@gmail.com .

Legendary radio announcer "Cousin" Bruce Morrow on his fabulous career

Bruce Morrow at a recent Palisades Park Reunion Show

As anyone familiar with the famous radio payola scandal of the late ’50s knows, the career of Alan Freed, the disk jockey who helped put rock and roll on the map, was ruined, as were others in his field for accepting illicit money to play records on their shows. Some, like American Bandstand television host Dick Clark, were also called in to testify before Congress.

However, Morrow, now 78, decided the other day that he wants to come clean, acknowledging that he once actually did accept a bribe from someone to play a record on his radio program.

“I did accept payola once,” he admits. “It was two cherry pies from this record producer whose mother was a baker. So, in order to get his record played, he offered me a couple of cherry pies. I figured that wasn’t so bad, so I took them and played his record.”

Considering the millions of people Morrow has brought joy to over the past seven decades as one of America’s foremost radio personalities, plus his extensive charitable endeavors, he should be forgiven for that little “misstep.”

He was born Bruce Meyerowitz, on October 13, 1937, in Brooklyn, New York. After adopting the familiar moniker “Cousin Brucie,”as the star of Manhattan’s powerful WABC radio station, he performed over 4000 shows from 1961 through 1974.

These days, when not doing his Wednesday and Saturday night shows on Sirius XM’s ’60s on 6 channel, he enjoys a peaceful, pastoral existence in upstate New York with wife Jodie, in a stone house built in the 1780s.

Saturday night, the National Radio Hall of Famer will be hosting a big Palisades Park reunion show at the Meadowlands State Fair in East Rutherford, New Jersey, that will also be broadcast on his Sirius XM program.

Among those on the bill will be Bobby Rydell, The Mellow Kings, Fireflies and Passions. There also will be a “Supergirls” group featuring original members of The Exciters, Cookies, and Reparata and the Delrons.

Says Morrow, “It’s always a very emotional experience. The audience is very much a big part of the shows. It’s like magic. It really is.”

Elliot Stephen Cohen: What was it like growing up in Brooklyn in the ’40s and ’50s?

Bruce Morrow: My family lived in a wonderful neighborhood that was very diverse. That’s what we loved about it. It was probably one of the greatest things that could happen to a child, being brought up with every race, religion, you name it. We had representatives from every planet in my neighborhood. It was truly wonderful.

ESC: How did you come to change your last name from Meyerowitz to Morrow?

BM: Well, back in the ’50s, for radio you had to have a name that didn’t sound too ethnic. They wanted people with names that sounded reasonably American or possibly Irish. One night I was at the home of my girlfriend’s mother, and she also said, “Meyerowitz is not a name you can use in showbiz.” I had already asked my parents if they minded if I changed it, and they said, “OK, as long as you keep the same last initial.” So she put her finger in the Manhattan telephone directory in the M’s, and came across “Morrow.”

ESC: Now, the story of how you transformed into “Cousin Brucie” is very touching.

BM: People still ask me about that. You know, in this business you need a handle, what we call a “shtick,” something to make you a little different, that people will remember. So this one day, when I was on the air at WINS, this little old black lady was escorted into the studio by one of the security guards. In those days, if someone looked decent, the security guards would say, “Someone wants to meet you,” and I would say, “Sure.” However, at that time, the station was located on 59th Street, right across from Central Park, so 90% of the characters who wanted to come up, you wouldn’t want in the studio, but I had a good feeling about this woman, and invited her in.

ESC: So, she came into your room?

BM: Yes. I was in the middle of cueing up a record, and I said, “Ma’am, can I help you?” She looks me right in the eye. Anybody who looks me right in the eye is OK with me because most people don’t do that. So, she looks straight at me and says, “Cousin, do you believe we’re all related?” I said, “Yes, Ma’am, I do.” Her eyes were twinkling, and I liked her right away. She looked right into my eyes and heart and said, “Well, cousin, lend me 50 cents to get home. I’m broke.” Now, I knew this little old lady was not listening to Bruce Morrow on the radio or my Elvis, Fats Domino or Everly Brothers records. She just needed money to get home. So, while a record was playing, I gave her the 50 cents, and she said, “Thank you, cousin. I’ll never forget you,” and just like that, she left.

ESC: What happened after she left?

BM: Well, that night, on my way home, a light just went on in my head. I felt my heart pounding because I knew I had found what I had been looking for. Sometimes the best things in life you find by accident. So, the idea for “Cousin Brucie” was born right there, but I still had to get permission from my boss.

ESC: How did he react when you suggested it ?

BM: Remember, I was just a young kid, just starting to work for a major New York radio station. So the next day, I said to Mel Leeds, the program director, “Mr. Leeds, I want to be called ‘Cousin Brucie’ from now on.” He looked me right in the eye and said, “That is the silliest, stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” He said, “Kid, this is not Wheeling, West Virginia. It’s not Bakersfield, California. This is the Big Apple, boy.”

ESC: It must have reminded him of a name like Tennessee Ernie Ford or someone like Minnie Pearl.

BM: Well, he was right that people like them appealed to the Crackerjacks, you know, the guys down south. Of course, they also appealed to the people up north, you know, the Lumberjacks, but he didn’t seem to know that. So he says to me, “You really want to do this?” I said, “Yup. We all love our cousins.” He said, “I think you’re wrong, but start it carefully. Don’t overdo it. If you’re wrong, I’m gonna fire you.” Now, I’m a Brooklyn kid. Nobody ever threatens a Brooklyn kid.

ESC: So I assume you went on the air the next day, calling yourself “Cousin Brucie” every chance you could.

BM: Of course I did. (Laughs.) I don’t think I took one breath without calling myself “Cousin.” Every sentence was “Cousin.” The very next morning, I get a phone call at six o’clock in the morning from Mr Leeds, my boss, saying, “Get your a... in here, son. You’re in big trouble.” My heart immediately went into my throat. So I go down to the station, and he pulls out hundreds of yellow pieces of paper that in those days were called Western Union telegrams, the extreme precursor of e-mails. These usually meant bad news, something like a war, or somebody in trouble. Then, after he actually started reading these telegrams, a smile broke over his face and he said, “We’re gonna put you on a seven-year contract.” That’s exactly how the birth of “Cousin Brucie” happened.

ESC: Would you say that the “British Invasion” of 1964 has been the favorite period of your career?

BM: Well, it was certainly one of the most exciting parts. Back then, there was a constant battle between WABC and the other stations as to who would get to play the new Beatles record. Because we were a 50,000 Watt station, we used to get almost all of the exclusives. So, WMCA would get to play theirs an hour or two later. It got so bad that we’d have to record something (over the record), saying, “Exclusive, exclusive, exclusive” every 20 or 30 seconds, so the other stations couldn’t copy it from us.

ESC: Was there a lot of competitiveness between the WABC disk jockeys and the WMCA “Good Guys”?

BM: There was a great competitive spirit between us. We played jokes on each other on the air, but they didn’t really have the ability to be competitive to WABC, because you were comparing a 50,000 Watt clear channel to a “teapot” 5000 Watt directional. You know, we were “The Good Guys” before them, but then we decided to call ourselves “The All-Americans.” A lot of these smaller Top 40 radio stations used to beg, borrow and steal from each other. So, there were probably also other radio stations calling themselves “The Good Guys,” but WMCA took the idea and put a lot of money behind it with their sweatshirts and other promotions.

ESC: When the Beatles came in and pretty much ended the careers of nearly all the popular American singers, at least in terms of having radio hits, did you think the Beatles were just a passing fad, or did you think this was the new direction for pop music?

BM: Well, the problem was, there was a very bad crack in the wall in corporate America. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” So, these guys in the music industry were very complacent. The goose was still laying the golden eggs. They were still selling records, but then the Beatles came along and decided to redefine rock and roll. Here comes these upstarts from overseas. When we originally started receiving their records, I remember, at music meetings, we turned them down. “Nah, that’s ridiculous,” but what they didn’t realize was that the American audiences wanted more. The American music was getting boring, hearing the same four notes over and over again, with the same background.

ESC: …and the Beatles were like a breath of fresh air?

BM: Yes. If you look at what America was going through at that time, we had just experienced the assassination of John Kennedy. We had terrible racial strife, which was really reaching its peak. There were also real political problems, and here are these four guys who were, as you said, like a breath of fresh air. Society needed a new flag, new heroes. The salad was ready to be mixed. The cake was ready to be baked. We were readied for the arrival of the Beatles. We needed them, and we got ’em. Period.

ESC: What do you recall most about your first meeting with the group?

BM: Well, the first time was really at the Pam American press conference. We all kind of said, “hello,” and they thanked me for playing their records. As a matter of fact, that first recording which, unfortunately, was of terrible sound quality, I still play on the air. It goes, “Hi, I’m John. I’m Paul. I’m George. I’m Ringo.”

ESC: Their first Shea Stadium concert in 1965, is still considered one of the most iconic rock events ever.

BM: Oh yes. When I first got to know them, I realized that these guys were really still a bunch of nervous kids. By the time they got to Shea Stadium, they were scared stiff. Even though they had all this great experience in Europe, nothing ever hit them like when they arrived at Shea Stadium in front of 65,000 plus kids, who were absolutely hysterical with love, screaming and yelling.

ESC: What did any of the Beatles say to you before they went on?

BM: I was in the dugout with Lennon and McCartney. Lennon came over to me and said, “Cousin” – he always called me “Cousin” because, by that time, we were getting to be good friends. He knew who I was and that I was a real Beatles fan. I’d played all their music and had interviewed them several times. He said, “Cousin, is this going to be very, very, dangerous?”

ESC: What did you think?

BM: Well, I said to John, “You’re here for one reason, and the people are here out of love and to share space with you.” Of course, I was lying. I was scared stiff, too. All these years later, thinking about it, conjures up a feeling in my chest of impending danger, of a possible disaster or an explosive situation, but I had to act like the big guy. McCartney also asked me if everything was safe, and I said, “Absolutely. It’ll all be OK.”

ESC: Watching the video of the event now, Ed Sullivan seemed like an odd choice to be introducing a major rock stadium concert, even though he was the one who had put the Beatles on his show a year earlier.

BM: Well, Ed Sullivan was really not into rock and roll. He was a real square, but had tremendous power from his journalistic experience. He also asked me, “Is this dangerous?” and I said, “Yes.” I sort of wanted to get back at him. He was a competitive media guy who was not really into this music. Before he goes to introduce them, he says to me, “What do we do?” I said, “Ed. Pray.” He looked at me with those big bulging eyes and said, “Pray?” and then he shrugged his shoulders, walked up to the stage with me to introduce the Beatles and, of course, all hell broke loose. There was so much electricity in the air, I used to say Con Edison could have turned off the electricity that day, and the energy from that crowd would have lit up New York. We still have great concerts today, but nobody will ever reach the plateau of the Beatles during that performance, even though most of the audience couldn’t actually hear the music.

ESC: I know you’re very excited about Saturday’s big Palisades Park reunion show.

BM: This is reunion number four. Back when I did the original shows in the ’60s, Palisades Park was a safe haven for kids to go to. Parents would drop off their kiddies, and they were entrusted to Cousin Brucie as their babysitter , because I was somebody they knew or thought they knew from my radio show. Even then, I always realized that that the Palisades Park shows were much more than just a stage show that you can see anywhere today. It was a very wonderful emotional experience that I still feel at these shows.

ESC: In your long legendary broadcasting career, what stands out the most?

BM: WABC was the golden moment. It was the Mount Olympus of radio. Something like that will never happen again.