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A review by floodfish
Wasn't That a Time: The Weavers, the Blacklist, and the Battle for the Soul of America by Jesse Jarnow
4.0
I don’t really enjoy listening to the Weavers’ music¹ ... I’d much rather read about them than listen to them, so this book is just the ticket.
It’s impossible to forget that every song the Weavers did, someone else did better. But the Weavers are a big part of why I (and you, probably) know so many of these songs, and their story is interesting. Jarnow’s book makes great arguments for their historical importance, and (as the subtitle implies) he successfully uses the group as a lens/core-sample to examine wider themes in American culture and politics.
Re. “folk music”, I was familiar with some of the pre-history (Almanac Singers, People’s Songs, Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly), contemporaneous history (Harry Smith, Alan Lomax), and post-history (1960s folk boom to the present). This book fills in fat gaps in between (while doing nice glosses on the before and after).
The early 1950s were a strange time in American pop music; after the dominance of jazz and big bands, before rock and roll, and while blues and country were segregated away. And of course they were a strange time in American politics and economics—a golden age with a horrifying underbelly. The Weavers were smack in the middle of all that. And as New York City fan and resident, I was pleasantly surprised by how much of a New York City story this is.
The Weavers were not always a full time band, even in their most successful era. So, in some ways this book is a story of four individuals and four careers that intermittently intersect. That’s a tougher story to tell, but Jarnow pulls it off.
And then there is the Pete Seeger issue: Seeger is the most famous and most interesting Weaver², but he’d be equally interesting (and perhaps equally famous) if he’d never been a Weaver. Jarnow navigates this well, acknowleging Seeger’s specialness without letting the story run away with him. Jarnow also does a great job of humanizing Seeger, who can sometimes seem more like a force of energy than a human being.
Next to anyone else, Lee Hays would be the interesting guy. He is sad and interesting in this book (and in other reading I’ve found on him since finishing this book). I also discovered perhaps my most favorite Weavers-related music: the home-recorded kiddie music Hays (with Alan Arkin, amongst others) recorded as the Baby Sitters.
Ronnie Gilbert’s life story is fascinating, but I’m not sure I will ever like her singing. And while Fred Hellerman made some good music happen as a producer/arranger/businessman, his story is not so fascinating and neither is his singing.
Jarnow’s writing is mostly enjoyable and clear, striking a great balance between conversational and authoritative. He does have some frustrating storytelling habits, though: burying the lede to build suspense (is that really neccesary in a history book?) and stuffing convoluted chronologies into a single sentence. Arguably makes for more dramatic storytelling, I guess, but can be confusing.
Jarnow is clued in; He writes with an awareness of contemporary culture and all that’s come in between the olden days and now (especially useful when evaluating countercultural scenes; the beats, hippies, and punks didn’t do much these people weren’t doing in the 1930s). He connects the dots between Woody Guthrie and John Cage. He deals with race, gender, disability, etc. with an awareness and sensitivity that would not be there in an older book on the same topic. The book feels very well-researched, and pulls together a lot of threads that I don’t think anyone got around to pulling together before. That said, I do worry about accuracy: there are a number of trivial errors that I caught without trying, so who knows what else is wrong in here (e.g. the book says Joe Hill was hanged rather than shot, refers to Paul Robeson’s “operatic tenor”, and implies that Brooklyn’s Sterling Place is in Brighton Beach).
This book should have a discography (as should all serious biographies of recording artists!). And I would have greatly appreciated some recommended listening links. While I eventually found streaming versions of everything I looked for, it wasn’t quick or easy (and I’m a pretty good digital digger). Finding the bombastic Gordon Jenkins-produced orchestral jukebox hits is tough in a sea of folky live LP versions; and I had to choose search terms very carefully to find the right Baby Sitters.
Good book, though! Especially if you’re intersted in the history of pop culture and the transmission of songs. No need to think the Weavers were any good to find a lot of value here.
---
1. I have to say though, I always like Pete Seeger’s banjo playing. Too bad it’s nearly always accompanied by singing that makes me hold my nose.
2. Though, even Seeger is not the most interesting or accomplished person in this story. Every time Woody Guthrie appears in the narrative, it’s like Omar popping up in The Wire.
It’s impossible to forget that every song the Weavers did, someone else did better. But the Weavers are a big part of why I (and you, probably) know so many of these songs, and their story is interesting. Jarnow’s book makes great arguments for their historical importance, and (as the subtitle implies) he successfully uses the group as a lens/core-sample to examine wider themes in American culture and politics.
Re. “folk music”, I was familiar with some of the pre-history (Almanac Singers, People’s Songs, Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly), contemporaneous history (Harry Smith, Alan Lomax), and post-history (1960s folk boom to the present). This book fills in fat gaps in between (while doing nice glosses on the before and after).
The early 1950s were a strange time in American pop music; after the dominance of jazz and big bands, before rock and roll, and while blues and country were segregated away. And of course they were a strange time in American politics and economics—a golden age with a horrifying underbelly. The Weavers were smack in the middle of all that. And as New York City fan and resident, I was pleasantly surprised by how much of a New York City story this is.
The Weavers were not always a full time band, even in their most successful era. So, in some ways this book is a story of four individuals and four careers that intermittently intersect. That’s a tougher story to tell, but Jarnow pulls it off.
And then there is the Pete Seeger issue: Seeger is the most famous and most interesting Weaver², but he’d be equally interesting (and perhaps equally famous) if he’d never been a Weaver. Jarnow navigates this well, acknowleging Seeger’s specialness without letting the story run away with him. Jarnow also does a great job of humanizing Seeger, who can sometimes seem more like a force of energy than a human being.
Next to anyone else, Lee Hays would be the interesting guy. He is sad and interesting in this book (and in other reading I’ve found on him since finishing this book). I also discovered perhaps my most favorite Weavers-related music: the home-recorded kiddie music Hays (with Alan Arkin, amongst others) recorded as the Baby Sitters.
Ronnie Gilbert’s life story is fascinating, but I’m not sure I will ever like her singing. And while Fred Hellerman made some good music happen as a producer/arranger/businessman, his story is not so fascinating and neither is his singing.
Jarnow’s writing is mostly enjoyable and clear, striking a great balance between conversational and authoritative. He does have some frustrating storytelling habits, though: burying the lede to build suspense (is that really neccesary in a history book?) and stuffing convoluted chronologies into a single sentence. Arguably makes for more dramatic storytelling, I guess, but can be confusing.
Jarnow is clued in; He writes with an awareness of contemporary culture and all that’s come in between the olden days and now (especially useful when evaluating countercultural scenes; the beats, hippies, and punks didn’t do much these people weren’t doing in the 1930s). He connects the dots between Woody Guthrie and John Cage. He deals with race, gender, disability, etc. with an awareness and sensitivity that would not be there in an older book on the same topic. The book feels very well-researched, and pulls together a lot of threads that I don’t think anyone got around to pulling together before. That said, I do worry about accuracy: there are a number of trivial errors that I caught without trying, so who knows what else is wrong in here (e.g. the book says Joe Hill was hanged rather than shot, refers to Paul Robeson’s “operatic tenor”, and implies that Brooklyn’s Sterling Place is in Brighton Beach).
This book should have a discography (as should all serious biographies of recording artists!). And I would have greatly appreciated some recommended listening links. While I eventually found streaming versions of everything I looked for, it wasn’t quick or easy (and I’m a pretty good digital digger). Finding the bombastic Gordon Jenkins-produced orchestral jukebox hits is tough in a sea of folky live LP versions; and I had to choose search terms very carefully to find the right Baby Sitters.
Good book, though! Especially if you’re intersted in the history of pop culture and the transmission of songs. No need to think the Weavers were any good to find a lot of value here.
---
1. I have to say though, I always like Pete Seeger’s banjo playing. Too bad it’s nearly always accompanied by singing that makes me hold my nose.
2. Though, even Seeger is not the most interesting or accomplished person in this story. Every time Woody Guthrie appears in the narrative, it’s like Omar popping up in The Wire.