You Can't Have Too Much Tom Paxton
On Monday, I posted a song by Tom Paxton and mentioned I'd crossed paths with him a couple of times. I only noted that the first time was backstage at the Ravinia Music Festival (the summer home of the Chicago Symphony), but that doesn't come close to doing it justice for what made so special -- not just for me, but for what it said about Tom Paxon, on several levels.
I was in college at the time and, as a summer job for a couple of season, generally worked in what was, at the time, Ravinia's Chicago office. (They've since moved to Highland Park, to be closer to the festival grounds.) However, because our family lived so close to the park -- walking distance, though a very long walk -- I was asked to be a sort of artists' liaison backstage on pop/folk nights. I didn't particularly care all that much about meeting the performers, though the only one I really wanted to meet was Tom Paxton.
All the artists had agents and managers, and so that was who I usually dealt with, with a few exceptions. As it happened, though, Tom Paxton traveled alone. No agent or manager to protect him, and so I had to (sorry, I mean, was lucky enough to get to) deal with him directly, and he was so personable and friendly. But that's not the story.
The night after his concert, Ravinia held another folk night. This one was a joint effort of Chicago legends -- Steve Goodman, John Prine and Bonnie Koloc. (You may not know her, but she was great and wildly popular in the city. She had a national career, though not at the level of the others -- but a long one, I believe she's still performing, mostly now in the Chicago area.)
But back to Tom Paxton. Although it helps to know what a big deal that joint concert was the next night. That's because Paxton, unlike most musicians, didn't cut out of town when he was done with his show the night before, but stayed around an extra day, because he wanted to see the three of them do their show.
And I worked backstage that night, as well. And what stands out to me is that as Paxton passed me backstage, before I could say a word and reintroduce myself, to remind him that we'd spoken briefly the night before, he saw me and said, "Hi, Bob." Sometimes the simplest things stand out.
I bring all this up, too, because it gives me the chance to tell perhaps my favorite Tom Paxton story. And though it speaks volumes about his music and career, the story itself focuses on his daughter.
She had been at a folk concert in Europe, and a group what might be his most famous song, "The Last Thing on My Mind," which they introduced as being one of those great, legendary folk tunes that had been passed down through generations whose author was unknown. (I read the story 25-30 years ago, and it's possible the song was another of his classics, "Rambling Boy," but my recollection is that it was the other.) Anyway, the point is that after the concert, his daughter went up to the group and mentioned that the song was not an anonymous folk song, but that her father had written it.
The group insisted, no, it was a very old folk song, and no one knew the writer. But no, of course, she persisted, her father really did write it. Well, they asked her skeptically, who is your father? "Tom Paxton," she said.
The group said nothing for a moment. And then the leader replied, "Well...yeah, that would make sense."
And with that, it seems a good time to play this song. This is lovely rendition on stage with the great Liam Clancy of The Clancy Brothers.
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