John Cohen in Eastern Kentucky: Documentary Expression and the Image of Roscoe Halcomb During the Folk Revival
Scott Matthews, Hollins University
Essay Sections:
Preface | Introduction | Cohen's Awakening | In the Folk Revival | Kentucky, 1959 | Portraying Roscoe Holcomb | Mountain Music of Kentucky | Mythologizing Halcomb | Documenting Halcomb | The High Lonesome Sound | Reception | Aftermath | Conclusion | Notes | Recommended Resources
Aftermath:
The year after The High Lonesome Sound was released, Roscoe Halcomb remained in Daisy, his health declining along with prospects for steady employment. "Well John I am Having it Pritry tuff," Halcomb wrote to Cohen in December 1964. "I only git 7 Days work a month[.] You know that isn't much[.] I Had Been very Sick[.] I only Way 116 lbs[.]" Still, Halcomb said, "I can sing like a Bird ho ho." Some time during the same year, Halcomb wrote to Cohen about his predicament and his hope that performing at a folk festival might bring some relief: "This finds me OK. Ethel is some better. John, g[e]t all the work you can for me. . . . Came home, things were looking very bad around here so when you send my ticket send a little extra money for food and I will make it up to you. John, do you want me to bring my guitar? Answer real soon. From your friend, Roscoe." No matter how ill Halcomb got he wanted to play and sing so that he could support himself and his family.86
By 1965, Roscoe's music had appeared on three Folkways records, including Mountain Music of Kentucky (1960), The Music of Roscoe Holcomb and Wade Ward (1962), and The High Lonesome Sound (1965). Since meeting John Cohen in 1959, Halcomb had made occasional appearances at folk festivals — in California at the Berkeley festival, at UCLA, at Ash Grove, and at the Monterrey Festival. He performed at the University
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of Chicago. He performed at the University of Chicago and the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis, at Cornell and Brandeis Universities, and the City College of New York. He appeared at Club 47 in Cambridge, Massachusetts and performed for the Friends of Old Time Music in New York. "During all of these trips," Cohen wrote in 1964, "no attempt has been made to give him any idea that he could make a living as a folksinger, although the large audiences have greeted him most receptively. It is my feeling that we in the city are given a rare privilege to hear and meet and know this man, but there is no call for him to change his life or his relationship to his home community on our account, and to do so would be misleading and wrong." Cohen's reflections on Halcomb's folk festival performances seem at once respectful and bluntly realistic. The dim prospect of earning a living as a folk-festival performer seemed a moot issue to Cohen; for Halcomb it meant much more. He did not leave Kentucky for Berkeley and Cornell just to receive a warm reception.87 |
Album cover for The High Lonesome Sound (1965)
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Roscoe Halcomb and John Cohen at the Berkeley Folk Festival, Berkeley, CA, 1962.
In 1966, Pete Seeger, who was John Cohen's brother-in-law, invited Halcomb to appear on his television show Rainbow Quest, a short-lived series that ran for about a year on a few stations in the northeast. Halcomb had received fan letters from Seeger but he had never appeared on television. Rainbow Quest featured folk musicians and revivalists performing songs in a range of genres. Guests included The New Lost City Ramblers; bluesmen Mississippi John Hurt, Brownie McGee, and Sonny Terry; bluegrass brothers Ralph and Carter Stanley; and country musician Johnny Cash. Before Halcomb made his appearance, Seeger played some banjo tunes including "John Hardy." As a boy growing up in New England, Seeger first imagined the South when singing Stephen Foster's "Oh! Susanna" with his family. The South was a "distant, romantic place," Seeger remembered, "like the far West or the islands of the Caribbean." On the episode of Rainbow Quest on which Halcomb appeared, Seeger spoke about his impressions of Appalachia: "I learnt this style of banjo picking more than in any other place from the mountains of Eastern Kentucky. It was a wild rough place when I first saw it and I'll never forget it. . . . And it seemed to me the musical section of the nation, where you couldn't knock on a door without finding somebody who made music and knew one of their old ballads, like this one." Nevertheless, he acknowledged, "this is a tough part of the world."88
Once Seeger finished talking and playing, he introduced Halcomb. "Instead of me singing these songs, I think you really ought to meet someone who really knows them well. He's got a high lonesome sound in his voice and when my brother-in-law, John Cohen, decided more people should know about this singer, he went down to Kentucky and made a movie of him and he called his movie, The High Lonesome Sound." Halcomb appears on the set dressed in a coat and tie and wearing a fedora, hardly the image associated with a banjo-playing man from the mountains. He begins "Little Birdie," staring straight ahead, or at the ground, but never towards Seeger, who either leans back in his chair bemused with arms behind his head, or sits hunched over, intently staring at Halcomb's technique. Halcomb eventually plays "Graveyard Blues" and "Across the
Once Seeger finished talking and playing, he introduced Halcomb. "Instead of me singing these songs, I think you really ought to meet someone who really knows them well. He's got a high lonesome sound in his voice and when my brother-in-law, John Cohen, decided more people should know about this singer, he went down to Kentucky and made a movie of him and he called his movie, The High Lonesome Sound." Halcomb appears on the set dressed in a coat and tie and wearing a fedora, hardly the image associated with a banjo-playing man from the mountains. He begins "Little Birdie," staring straight ahead, or at the ground, but never towards Seeger, who either leans back in his chair bemused with arms behind his head, or sits hunched over, intently staring at Halcomb's technique. Halcomb eventually plays "Graveyard Blues" and "Across the
Rocky Mountain" on guitar and "Little Gray Mule" on banjo. He appears nervous and uneasy throughout. Coughing repeatedly, he tells Seeger about his personal trials. Halcomb says he works construction but is no longer able due to a hurt back. "Older I gets the worser I get and can't do no work hardly." His fingers seem just as lively, Seeger replies.89 There is no record of what Halcomb received for his performance. He no doubt felt honored, but exposure, praise, or mountain/city cross-cultural dialogue never seemed to matter. When Seeger wrote to him in the summer of 1963, Halcomb's only concern was making a living during a bleak time. |
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Still from 1966 Rainbow Quest
episode
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John Cohen was frank with Halcomb about his ability to earn a living as a performing folk singer and remained acutely sensitive and respectful about making Halcomb comfortable in performance settings so distant from home. Having felt the powerful effect of Halcomb's music, Cohen offered other folk revivalists — "we in the city"— the "privilege to hear, meet, and know this man." Whether or not Halcomb could stay financially afloat as a folk musician seemed beside the point. "As I see it," Cohen reflected in the mid-1970s, "the underlying question is whether one views music and local traditions as either commodities or spiritual achievements. Since my first drive through eastern Kentucky, I have viewed traditional culture as a hidden spiritual resource, and my only aim throughout has been to share it with others, an enterprise which is its own reward."90 For Roscoe Halcomb, the reward remained in question.
The reward for Roscoe Halcomb was adoration from critics and music enthusiasts, and from the audiences in auditoriums and festival grounds respectfully listening to the music of a poor, working man from Daisy, Kentucky. Halcomb performed at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965, on the same bill with Bob Dylan, who made his famous debut as an electric guitarist that weekend.
Like Cohen, music for Halcomb was spiritual. If it was Cohen's privilege to hear, meet, and know Halcomb, it was also his privilege to document, spread and shape Halcomb's spiritual resource — his music, his image, his identity — into items for archival collection and for sale. This privilege extended from Cohen's position in a privileged class, an "urban elite" identified by his contemporary Ralph Rinzler, who were "separated from the idealized peasantry by education, social position, and economic resources."91 Cohen remained a close, respectful friend for Halcomb, never possessing the slightest inclination towards exploiting or using him and his music for other than good intentions. But the process of doing documentary work — of spreading alternative sounds and images through popular culture as a way to break through the perceived sterility of that culture — can leave the documented, the Roscoe Halcombs, wondering why they remain as poor as they were before their "discovery."
Moses Asch, the founder of Folkways, who supported Cohen's production of Halcomb's records, also recognized Roscoe's predicament. As Peter Goldsmith notes, Asch and Halcomb developed a "respect and fondness for another." Asch would ask about Halcomb's well being and hand him a ten or twenty-dollar bill when he saw him — an acknowledgment of the paltry return Folkways received from his, and most of the label's, records, and a demonstration of Asch's "usual paternalistic style." In 1965, after the release of his third Folkways record, Halcomb wrote to Asch. "Hello Moses, how is the boy? Fine I hope. This leaves me not feeling too good; have a very bad cold. Moses I would like to have about 20 records 'the hi an lonesome sound' if you'd care to send them to me I hope this isn't asking you too much, Moses. I haven't got the money now but will settle with you when I come up for the concert."92
In March 1966, Halcomb left the U.S. for the first time to perform in Europe for three weeks with Ralph and Carter Stanley. Halcomb occasionally shared the stage with Ralph Stanley and the two would sing together from the Baptist hymnal. After Halcomb returned from the tour, the Department of Economic Security in Hazard cut the public assistance money that was his only source of income. "John, they want to know how much my expenses was so they can take it from what I made for they can't read the bills," Halcomb wrote to Cohen in April 1966. "Even what you tell them they will take out of what I made…"93
Soon, the agency contacted Cohen asking for documentation of the income Halcomb made for touring Europe. "Dear Sir, Mr. Roscoe Holcomb is a recipient of public assistance with this agency and it is necessary for us to know how much income he has for the year 1965-66. He states he received $750 for a personal appearance in Germany in March but paid his own expenses from this amount. Would you please furnish us with the amount of money he received, the amount of his expenses, tax deductions. Any information you can furnish will be greatly appreciated. Enclosed is a form signed by Holcomb [sic] giving us authority to inquire about his financial affairs."94
Out of work and out of money, Halcomb found himself facing complete deprivation. Cohen knew this, and left New York for Kentucky to plead with the Department of Economic Security to restore Halcomb's income, "but they didn't listen," he recalled. "In fact, someone in that office tried to convince me that Roscoe wasn't a good singer, and offered to take me to someone who was a 'better musician.'" Cohen left more certain than ever, that "Roscoe's music wasn't much appreciated in this locale." Nearly a year later in March 1967, Halcomb wrote Cohen a letter updating him on his continued hard life. "I would like to talk to you about other things as well and . . . John you no how people are about me around here — they still trying to give me a hard time — but it is hard to keep a good man down."95
In July 1972 Cohen went back to Daisy, Kentucky to record Halcomb at his home for what would be his final visit. When Cohen arrived, Halcomb said, "I should have told you that I have a cold, and not to come." Cohen described Halcomb as "anxious and uncertain about his future both in work and in health." The year prior he learned he had emphysema from his years of working in the saw mills and mines. More recently, he was in frequent pain, beset with stomach ulcers and on a strict diet mandated by his doctors.96
Six years later, Halcomb summoned the energy to travel to New York by bus and perform at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on May 7, 1978, at an event sponsored by the famous flutist Paula Prentiss. His final song was an Old Regular Baptist hymn. These old hymns often made him choke up on stage leaving the audience sitting in stunned silence before breaking into applause. On this night, Halcomb once again could not finish the hymn. In Cohen's words, "a spasm of coughing" forced him from the stage, leaving behind another stunned and silent audience. "Everybody felt deep into the song," Cohen recalled, "and that was his last performance. He had the songbook in his hand."97
The reward for Roscoe Halcomb was adoration from critics and music enthusiasts, and from the audiences in auditoriums and festival grounds respectfully listening to the music of a poor, working man from Daisy, Kentucky. Halcomb performed at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965, on the same bill with Bob Dylan, who made his famous debut as an electric guitarist that weekend.
Like Cohen, music for Halcomb was spiritual. If it was Cohen's privilege to hear, meet, and know Halcomb, it was also his privilege to document, spread and shape Halcomb's spiritual resource — his music, his image, his identity — into items for archival collection and for sale. This privilege extended from Cohen's position in a privileged class, an "urban elite" identified by his contemporary Ralph Rinzler, who were "separated from the idealized peasantry by education, social position, and economic resources."91 Cohen remained a close, respectful friend for Halcomb, never possessing the slightest inclination towards exploiting or using him and his music for other than good intentions. But the process of doing documentary work — of spreading alternative sounds and images through popular culture as a way to break through the perceived sterility of that culture — can leave the documented, the Roscoe Halcombs, wondering why they remain as poor as they were before their "discovery."
Moses Asch, the founder of Folkways, who supported Cohen's production of Halcomb's records, also recognized Roscoe's predicament. As Peter Goldsmith notes, Asch and Halcomb developed a "respect and fondness for another." Asch would ask about Halcomb's well being and hand him a ten or twenty-dollar bill when he saw him — an acknowledgment of the paltry return Folkways received from his, and most of the label's, records, and a demonstration of Asch's "usual paternalistic style." In 1965, after the release of his third Folkways record, Halcomb wrote to Asch. "Hello Moses, how is the boy? Fine I hope. This leaves me not feeling too good; have a very bad cold. Moses I would like to have about 20 records 'the hi an lonesome sound' if you'd care to send them to me I hope this isn't asking you too much, Moses. I haven't got the money now but will settle with you when I come up for the concert."92
In March 1966, Halcomb left the U.S. for the first time to perform in Europe for three weeks with Ralph and Carter Stanley. Halcomb occasionally shared the stage with Ralph Stanley and the two would sing together from the Baptist hymnal. After Halcomb returned from the tour, the Department of Economic Security in Hazard cut the public assistance money that was his only source of income. "John, they want to know how much my expenses was so they can take it from what I made for they can't read the bills," Halcomb wrote to Cohen in April 1966. "Even what you tell them they will take out of what I made…"93
Listen to a clip of
Roscoe Holcomb and the Stanley Brothers, "Village Churchyard" (21 sec.)
American Folk and Country Festival 2CD (Bear Family Records BFFM 16849), 2008. RealMedia | Windows Media | QuickTime |
Soon, the agency contacted Cohen asking for documentation of the income Halcomb made for touring Europe. "Dear Sir, Mr. Roscoe Holcomb is a recipient of public assistance with this agency and it is necessary for us to know how much income he has for the year 1965-66. He states he received $750 for a personal appearance in Germany in March but paid his own expenses from this amount. Would you please furnish us with the amount of money he received, the amount of his expenses, tax deductions. Any information you can furnish will be greatly appreciated. Enclosed is a form signed by Holcomb [sic] giving us authority to inquire about his financial affairs."94
Out of work and out of money, Halcomb found himself facing complete deprivation. Cohen knew this, and left New York for Kentucky to plead with the Department of Economic Security to restore Halcomb's income, "but they didn't listen," he recalled. "In fact, someone in that office tried to convince me that Roscoe wasn't a good singer, and offered to take me to someone who was a 'better musician.'" Cohen left more certain than ever, that "Roscoe's music wasn't much appreciated in this locale." Nearly a year later in March 1967, Halcomb wrote Cohen a letter updating him on his continued hard life. "I would like to talk to you about other things as well and . . . John you no how people are about me around here — they still trying to give me a hard time — but it is hard to keep a good man down."95
In July 1972 Cohen went back to Daisy, Kentucky to record Halcomb at his home for what would be his final visit. When Cohen arrived, Halcomb said, "I should have told you that I have a cold, and not to come." Cohen described Halcomb as "anxious and uncertain about his future both in work and in health." The year prior he learned he had emphysema from his years of working in the saw mills and mines. More recently, he was in frequent pain, beset with stomach ulcers and on a strict diet mandated by his doctors.96
Six years later, Halcomb summoned the energy to travel to New York by bus and perform at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on May 7, 1978, at an event sponsored by the famous flutist Paula Prentiss. His final song was an Old Regular Baptist hymn. These old hymns often made him choke up on stage leaving the audience sitting in stunned silence before breaking into applause. On this night, Halcomb once again could not finish the hymn. In Cohen's words, "a spasm of coughing" forced him from the stage, leaving behind another stunned and silent audience. "Everybody felt deep into the song," Cohen recalled, "and that was his last performance. He had the songbook in his hand."97
Listen to a clip of
Roscoe Holcomb, "A Village Churchyard" (21 sec.)
Roscoe Holcomb: The High Lonesome Sound (Smithsonian Folkways CD 40079), 1998. RealMedia | Windows Media | QuickTime |
Essay Sections:
Preface | Introduction | Cohen's Awakening | In the Folk Revival | Kentucky, 1959 | Portraying Roscoe Holcomb | Mountain Music of Kentucky | Mythologizing Halcomb | Documenting Halcomb | The High Lonesome Sound | Reception | Aftermath | Conclusion | Notes | Recommended Resources
