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INTERVIEWER: Do you remember the first record you bought,

the first blues record?

Well, I remember I-- it was a Lead Belly record.

You heard of Lead Belly?

INTERVIEWER: Yeah, sure.

I used to listen to a lot of Lead Belly.

ANNOUNCER: These records are being

made by Huddie Ledbetter from Shreveport, Louisiana.

LEAD BELLY: (SINGING) Oh, the Rock Island Line

Is a mighty good road

Oh, the Rock Island Line

It's a road to ride

The Rock Island Line

It's a mighty good road

If you want to ride

You got to ride it

Like you find it

Get your ticket at the station

On the Rock Island Line

Oh, Jesus died

To save our sins

Glory to God

We're gonna meet Him again

Oh, the Rock Island Line

It's a mighty good road

Oh, the Rock Island Line

Is the road to ride

Oh, the Rock Island Line

Is a mighty good road

If you want to ride

You got to ride it

Like you find it

Get your ticket at the station

On the Rock Island Line

I may be right

And I may be wrong

You know you're gonna miss me

When I'm gone

Oh, the Rock Island Line

It's a mighty good road

Oh, the Rock Island Line

Is the road to ride

Oh, the Rock Island Line

Is a mighty good road

If you want to ride

You got to ride it

Like you find it

Get your ticket at the station

On the Rock Island Line

No one can say it like Lead Belly.

No one can touch it.

Leadbelly kind of put me in focus.

And I've never been out of focus since.

After I'd gone to the Harry Belafonte and the Odetta

and the beginning of Pete Seeger,

and then we listened to Lead Belly-- it was a very big deal.

Lead Belly-- he was, to me, Lead Belly.

There was no one like him.

He was one of a kind.

[LEAD BELLY, "FANNIN STREET"]

(SINGING) Mm

Mm

Cry for me, now

Cry for Charlie

Anybody should ask you people

Who made up this song?

Tell them Huddie Ledbetter

He's done been here and gone

[VOCALIZING]

Mm

Mm

His 12-string guitar was quite a sound that would get through,

if a fight is going on.

[LAUGHS]

And so, it would carry.

Don't get confused by the fact that this guitar

has double strings.

They're just the same as a regular guitar,

but each string counts twice.

[SLOWLY PLUCKS STRINGS]

I learned how to play it from one

of the greatest musicians I'll ever know,

a fellow that died about 15 years ago.

His name was Huddie Ledbetter, better known as Lead Belly,

King of the 12-String Guitar.

He's a fantastic man and fantastic musician.

Came out of a lot of hard times down South,

and then lived up in New York the last 15 years of his life,

where I knew him.

Lead Belly really came from a frontier country.

Louisiana, in his day, was a frontier land, just

being opened up for cultivation.

Lead Belly was a little unusual in that he grew up

in a very structured, relatively--

especially for that time-- small nuclear family.

Very strong father, also in a family that owned land.

When he was a young--

you know, in his teens, his father would go downtown

on weekends and sell fruit.

And he would put a blanket in the bottom of the wagon

and make Huddie lay down there.

Because those women on Fannin Street,

they'd sit up in those windows with their negligees on,

half of their bust was showing, and everything else was showing.

And Huddie's father didn't want him to see that.

And he said, lay down.

Go to sleep.

So he would say, well, OK.

He'd lay down.

He just said to himself, well, when I get grown,

it's going to be the first place I'm

coming to see what's going on down here.

LEAD BELLY (VOICEOVER): When I was a boy,

had on short pants, my father used to take me to town.

He'd lead me all around in Fannin Street.

And that's what I like, you know,

where the people dance and play and sing

and pianos and women dancing.

I love to see women dance, anyhow.

And so, my father carried me down as a little boy.

And I wasn't much knee high to a duck at that time,

but I was watching.

Show your children.

Don't forget nothing.

I said, well, when I get to be a man, I'm going down there, too.

And when I got to be a man about 16 years old, you see,

I was wearing long pants at that time.

My father carried me to the train,

and he gave me $40 in my pocket.

I was a big shot, too, when I had that $40.

Sent me to go to the fair.

Five times, he said, son, don't go down on Fannin Street.

And I didn't sleep none that night, just thinking

about Fannin Street.

And I said, no, sir, Papa.

But that's just where I was going.

He didn't have to know where I was going.

I wasn't gonna tell him.

He shouldn't have asked me.

But anyhow, when I got to Shreveport,

that was where I'd go ever time I'd leave home.

It was an opportunity for him to hear other musicians

and to introduce himself.

He was the only child, and he was pampered, spoiled.

You know, he had a horse when he was just a kid.

And he also learned to play the guitar early on,

so he was very popular at dances and that sort of thing.

And, you know, in a word, he was spoiled.

And so when anybody crossed him, he just

didn't feel like that was the right thing.

And he would cross them back.

He was incredibly strong and fast.

One day, when we were together in our car in New England,

the car was stuck in the snow in a ditch.

And Lead Belly said, take it easy.

He got out of the car and lifted the car out

of the ditch, all by himself, with ease.

I was about 19 or 20, just dropped out of college.

And Alan Lomax introduced me to this most extraordinary person,

Huddie Ledbetter.

And he said oh, Pete, let me introduce you to Lead Belly.

We shook hands, and he spoke with a very soft voice.

I didn't realize till later on what

a tremendously strong person he was.

Take off his jacket, he had big, big muscles like a prizefighter.

And he also walked light on his feet, like a prizefighter.

This is another work song.

When we pick cotton, you got to jump down

to pick a bale of cotton a day.

You can't fool around.

And we sing.

[LEAD BELLY, "PICK A BALE OF COTTON"] Great God Almighty

I could pick a bale of cotton

Great God Almighty

I could pick a bale a day

Great God Almighty

I could pick a bale of cotton

Great God Almighty

I could pick a bale a day

Oh, Lord

I can pick a bale of cotton

Oh, Lord

I can pick a bale a day

Oh, Lord

I can pick a bale of cotton

Oh, Lord

I can pick a bale a day

My and my wife

Got to pick a bale of cotton

QUEEN ROBINSON: He worked agriculturally.

But you really didn't want him to pace the work because he was

so strong, and he was so fast.

So you're dealing with a kind of physical power.

(SINGING) Oh, Lord

I could pick a bale of cotton

Oh, Lord

I could pick a bale a day

I could pick a pick a

Pick a pick a bale of cotton

I could pick a pick a

Pick a pick a bale a day

I could pick a pick a

Pick a pick a bale of cotton

I could pick a pick a

Pick a pick a bale a day

Oh, Lord

I could pick a bale of cotton

Oh, Lord

I could pick a bale a day

Oh, Lord

I could pick a bale of cotton

Oh, Lord

I could pick a bale a day

He pleaded, he begged, bragged.

And there are many things that blues singers usually do

in songs, like the rest of us.

So I didn't know why they called Lead Belly and Josh White folk

singers when the rest of us was down home blues singers.

I hadn't figured that out yet.

So maybe I'll have to talk to you some more.

[LAUGHS]

He was what they called a songster,

and a songster was a folk musician.

And a lot of times, these rural places, people

would play at parties, you know, out there.

And it wasn't somebody who just went and played all blues.

It was equivalent, at the time, of a top 40 band.

They had to know the pop hits.

They had to know the blues.

They had to know lots of stuff.

So, you know, Lead Belly would simply be sitting there,

playing blues, play party songs, folk songs,

old sentimental ballads, maybe a Gene Autry song.

He'd do it all.

Somebody probably said, Lead Belly,

can't you sing us a song about the old cotton fields

where you used to live?

He just made up the song on the spur of the moment.

(SINGING) When I was a little bitty baby

My mama would rock me in the cradle

In them old cotton fields at home

[LEAD BELLY, "COTTON FIELDS"] When I was a little baby

My mother would rock me in the cradle

In them ole cotton fields at home

Oh, when them cotton balls get rotten

You couldn't pick very much cotton

In them ole cotton fields at home

It was down in Louisiana

Just two miles from Texarkana

In them ole cotton fields at home

In the community, we'd get together

and come over and get together.

And they would play guitars, banjos, and drums

until the rooster crowed.

And they would tell us, go to bed.

And we said, OK.

We'd go back in the room and close the door,

but listen all at the same time.

Or dancing back there, in the back,

until my grandmother would come back and say, now,

get in bed because I'm gonna whip you if you don't.

And we would.

But they had so much fun, just sitting around there,

playing with each other.

They would drink that moonshine, and they'd get out of hand

once in a while.

One would, but they soon put him back in line.

But it was an enjoyable thing to them.

And I remember how happy they were during that.

Anybody who's in Lead Belly's position,

if you think about his entire life,

as someone who broke away from traditional occupations,

from the traditional life, from staying at home,

from family life-- he broke away from all that.

He saw his chance as a singer, as an entertainer.

When you break away from that life,

you break away from a lot of its constraints.

And on the other hand, you become a kind

of a romantic, dashing figure that attracts a lot of women

and gets a lot of men angry.

LEAD BELLY (VOICEOVER): Let me tell you something

about Blind Lemon, 'cause him and I was buddies.

We used to play all up around Dallas, Texas, Fort Worth.

We'd just get on a train.

We'd get our two guitars, and we were just riding.

Lot of pretty gals out there, and we had about 25,

30 girls apiece out there.

Well, I mean, they'd just be around.

And we'd go through Silver City first.

[LEAD BELLY, "SILVER CITY BOUND"] Silver City bound

I'm Silver City bound

Well, I tell my baby

I'm Silver City bound

Me and Blind Lemon

Gonna ride on down

QUEEN ROBINSON: Just every time, he

would get into some kind of trouble.

OK, Huddie was not going to take anything off anyone.

That was his personality.

He was strong in his own ways and a man

of his own convictions.

[BLOWS LANDING, SCREAMING]

Everybody had a knife or a gun--

more knives than guns.

And they used them and paid the consequences.

Just hitting somebody white in those days was a major offense.

That's Uncle Huddie ended up in prison the first time.

And that's when he took off from the chain gang

and assumed a new identity.

He ended up living for a number of years as Walter Boyd,

doing the same kind of thing-- picking cotton,

playing music before he got into another altercation.

He was in a bar, singing, and some girl

would start making a play for him.

And one of the ladies at the place

followed Huddie, held on Huddie's arm.

You know, she was just holding on to him for life and death,

you know?

She thought she had her something.

Now, the girl's boyfriend would get mad and come

after Huddie with a knife.

Those were days of the Wild West.

And you didn't call the police.

You defended yourself.

And a guy hollered, said, look out!

Look out, Lead, there's this guy finna cut you.

Huddie raised up, this man coming down on him with a gun.

You'll see a scar on his face there.

That's what that scar from.

So Huddie had this little gun that his father

had given him a long time ago.

And he just shot him.

And that was the end of that.

So the man got killed.

Next thing you know, Huddie was in jail.

He was still Walter Boyd, and he was using that alias name.

And that's how he ended up in Sugar Land,

and that's why that name got on all of the paperwork then.

They bring him down to Sugar Land,

which is a major penitentiary just outside Houston,

and he comes across "Midnight Special."

It spoke of the world of freedom

that they were constantly longing for.

Let the Midnight Special shine its ever loving light on you.

Because there's the old folk legend

that if the light of the midnight train

shines through the bars on a prisoner,

that prisoner is going to get set free.

You know, they make up little fantasy stories,

you know, to live on.

It just gives them hope.

This is a song about a train.

And the legend about this train was it ran past a jailhouse.

And the idea was if the light from the train shone on you,

you'd get released.

(SINGING) I wake up early in the morning

Hear the ding dong ding

I come walking to the table

I see the same damn thing

I go marching to the table

Piece of paper in my hand

There's nothing I can do about it

I get in trouble with the man

[LEAD BELLY, "MIDNIGHT SPECIAL"] Let the Midnight Special

Shine her light on me

Let the Midnight Special

Shine her ever-lovin' light on me

If you ever go to Houston

Boy, you better walk right

And you better not squabble

And you better not fight

Benson Crocker will arrest you

Hayden Boone will take you down

You can bet your bottom dollar

That you're Sugar Land bound

(SINGING) Let the Midnight Special

Shine her light on me

Let the Midnight Special

Shine her ever-lovin' light

On me

Well, they asked him how he'd gotten on the chain gang twice,

and a couple of times just missed it.

He said, you know, when I would sing a song,

naturally, all the girls would flock around me.

(LAUGHING) He-- he was saying it straight.

He said, they'd come around me.

And, well, they all looked like they wanted

to take me home with them.

Well, the fellas who were there, they didn't care for that.

And they'd start something.

And naturally, I had to protect myself.

And a couple of times, the police

came in and put me in jail.

In a funny way, they're national heroes--

you know, like Johnny Cash and the big boys

who've gone and done it.

I mean, they've done what everybody who ever

runs for president should do--

spend some time in jail.

Otherwise, they don't know the country.

Once you did a crime, anything happened

and you're anywhere 50 feet of it,

you was gonna be the one they gonna get.

When he was in prison in Texas in the 1920s,

he did a song for Governor Pat Neff.

[LEAD BELLY, "GOVERNOR PAT NEFF (SWEET MARY)"] Nineteen hundred

and twenty-three

When the judge took my liberty

Away from me

If I had you, Governor Neff

Like you got me

I'd wake up in the morning

I would set you free

He was an opportunist.

When will a prisoner get the ear of the governor?

Because he couldn't just say, I want to tell you my story,

and somebody would listen to him.

So he used the moment, through a song.

And--

--it worked.

Pat Neff was a man who said, I'll never

give a man a pardon while I'm governor.

And, in fact, the last thing that he

did on the last day of his governorship

was Pat Neff signed a pardon for Lead Belly.

Lead Belly literally sang his way out of two penitentiaries.

I suppose nobody else in all history ever did that.

And he was very proud of this achievement.

And he felt about himself that there were literally no limits

to him.

Lead Belly was really a survivor.

He survived by picking cotton because he had to.

That was the thing.

He knew he didn't have that much formal education.

But he always kept the music there,

and that was the thing that kept his soul clean.

When they would go down there on Fannin Street,

or wherever they had, they would have

some money in their pockets.

Because I seen them with the money in their pocket.

And they would do whatever they had to do.

I don't know what-- how much they give the women

or if they gave them anything.

I don't know.

So that went on for a long time, until it just

got out of hand where the sheriff couldn't do nothing

with them.

Just every time he'd come to Shreveport,

he would get into some kind of trouble.

The best we could piece together, Lead Belly was

in town.

He'd perhaps had something to drink, apparently cut

a white man on the arm with a knife.

And wham, he ends up in Angola.

My father and I met Lead Belly in the Angola penitentiary

in 1933.

We came there looking for the roots of American Black song,

and we certainly found them with Lead Belly.

I'll never forget.

He approached us at a dead run, with his big green 12-string

guitar in his hand.

They actually reenacted this scene for "The March of Time."

Lead Belly didn't ever want to see that piece of movie again

because it had him in prison stripes and saying, "yassah, Mr.

Lomax."

ANNOUNCER: To Louisiana State Penitentiary

goes John A. Lomax, Library of Congress curator, collector

of American folk songs.

[LEAD BELLY, "GOODNIGHT IRENE"] I'll get you

In my dreams

JOHN A. LOMAX: Just once more, Lead Belly.

(SINGING) Irene

Good night

Irene

Good night

Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll get you

In my dreams

That's fine, Lead Belly.

You're a fine songster.

I've never heard so many good Negro songs.

Thank you, sir boss.

I sure hope you send Governor OK Allen a record of that song

I made up about him, because I believe he'll turn me loose.

Well, Lead Belly, I don't know this governor.

You mustn't expect too much of me.

Well, Governor Pat Neff of Texas, he

turned me loose when he heard the song that I made up

about him.

So you were in the Texas Penitentiary, too, Lead Belly?

Yes, sir, 35 years for murder.

But it wasn't my fault. A man was trying to cut my head off.

That's mighty bad, Lead Belly.

I believe Governor OK Allen, if you just

send him a record of that song, I believe he'll turn me loose.

Lead Belly, I'll try it.

Thank you, sir boss!

Thank you, sir, Thank you.

He was naturally dying to get out of the place he was in,

and he recorded for us his appeal for a pardon

to Governor OK Allen.

And in this song, he says, Governor Allen,

if I had you where you have me, I'd wake up in the morning

and set you free.

We took the song to the governor's mansion

on one hot August day, left it with his board clerk.

And suddenly, magically, a few months later, Lead Belly

was out of the pen.

Lomax loved to tell this story about he-- you know,

I got Lead Belly out of jail.

And there's just mountains of evidence

that that didn't happen.

Lead Belly was already scheduled for release.

The story goes that John Lomax promised to take it

to the governor the next day.

How he had access to the governor, I don't know.

But he did go to the governor's office,

and he gave it to the secretary, and then propagated that idea

that perhaps, the governor listened to it

and pardoned Lead Belly.

Of course, we know that's not true.

Lead Belly was released on good time or whatever you call that.

But that's the story.

Lomax didn't really have anything to do with it, per se,

but they didn't tell him they didn't.

But when grandfather did write to the prison

to find out what was the real reason for his release,

that's what they said, that he had been released for good time.

But maybe that wasn't true.

Maybe they didn't want to admit that (LAUGHING) he could sing

his way out of two prisons.

We'll never know.

But they recorded him.

And Lomax was impressed with him and began

to think about how he could use him.

He sent Lead Belly a telegram saying,

"Meet me at the Hotel Marshall.

Bring driver's license.

Bring guitar."

Yes, Mr. John Lomax is staying here.

He's in room 109.

Is that on the first floor?

Yep.

Hey, hold on a minute!

[KNOCKING]

Come in.

Boss, here I is.

Lead Belly, what are you doing here?

No use trying to run away, boss.

I came here to be your man.

I got to work with you the rest of my life.

You got me out of that Louisiana Pen.

You can't work for me.

You're a mean boy.

You killed two men.

Preacher don't talk that way, boss.

Have you got a pistol?

No, sir, I got a knife.

Let me see it.

What did you do with that thing?

I'll use it on somebody if they bother you, boss.

Please, boss!

Take me with you.

All right, Lead Belly, I'll try you.

Thank you, sir boss.

Thank you.

I'll drive you all over the United States,

and I'll sing all the songs for you!

You'll be my big boss, and I'll be your man.

It's embarrassing to see that now.

(IMITATING) I'm your man.

I'll be your man.

I'll use this knife to defend you and so forth.

It's just shameful, you know?

It really is.

And I think the repetition of that kind of thing,

you know, finally got through to Lead Belly.

You know, this was not the way it should be.

Well, Huddie never spoke to any man as master

or in a subservient manner, first of all.

That was not his, you know, posture.

That was a script.

So that was not him.

And, you know, that was something he didn't like.

But he was a man that had an obligation

to help someone who had helped him, and he fulfilled it.

One of the more interesting relationships

between John Lomax and Lead Belly was the tour of prisons.

Having Lead Belly there also, which is really, I imagine--

really opened up the situation tremendously.

He was on this trip as John's assistant.

He set up the recording machine.

He had his guitar with him and would often

play songs to some of these guys to show them

what kind of material they wanted to record.

Here was someone who had been through that experience,

and who could walk into the room and bridge

that gap between the White southerner

and the Black prisoners, in order

to allow the Lomaxes to get the repertoire that they wanted.

Because it's not an easy thing to-- to walk in after sundown.

These guys have been out all day.

And say, do you want to sing a few songs?

Instead of explaining to prisoners what it was we wanted,

Lead Belly just got up and sang a few songs.

And after that, they knew.

Lomax had the increasing notion

that he could make Lead Belly a star.

And of course, Lead Belly thought

that Lomax had gotten him out of jail,

so he was willing to go do as much as he could

and lug the luggage, drive the car, and so forth.

LEAD BELLY (VOICEOVER): I drove all

through this country, Mr. Lomax and myself,

and I never did run over a chicken.

Never did run over nothing.

Because I'm going to look down the way I'm going.

You can talk to me all you want, but I ain't gonna

turn my head to look at you.

You can talk, but I'm going to look

right down the way I'm going.

That's true.

When I think about the relationship between John Lomax

and Lead Belly, I think of the capacity of Black people

to use doors to actually leave where they are.

And I thought that Lomax, in some way, understanding

Lead Belly as a powerful, powerful artist,

also never quite let him out of jail.

And that's a failing of Lomax, I think.

Up North, he found other African-Americans who said,

you know, Lead Belly, you don't have to be Mr.

Lomax's servant the rest of your life.

I think Lomax assumed Lead Belly was going to be

his servant for years to come.

Lomax said, well, I did everything for that boy--

this boy being 48 years old.

Young Allen agreed with Lead Belly.

He says, you got a right to be your own man.

And Allen helped him get some jobs in New York.

ANNOUNCER: John Lomax does take the Louisiana

Negro convict to be his man.

He takes him North to his home in Wilton, Connecticut,

where Lead Belly's long time sweetheart, Martha Promise,

is brought up from the South for a jubilant wedding.

Then, hailed by the Library of Congress's music division

as its greatest folk song find in 25 years,

Lead Belly's songs go into the archives

of the great national institution,

along with the original copy of the Declaration of Independence.

(SINGING) Irene

Good night

Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll get you in my dreams

Lead Belly arrived in New York with his whole country

background of music intact.

He carried that sound right into his city performances,

and he simply electrified his audiences.

He had standing ovations everywhere we presented him.

And suddenly, Belly and the Lomaxes were national figures.

These people are trained to go look for something

that nobody's ever seen.

And then when you find it, you go, look, look, look

what I found.

Lomax presented his man who'd killed two men, been in jail.

He was presented in 1935 as a murderer.

You look at the newspaper headlines.

"Sweet Singer from the Swamplands,"

murderer comes to New York.

And I know that was Lomax's idea.

And it's just shameful.

Those who were interested in him

were also interested in the bad man image

and played on the fact that, here's someone who came out

of prison who murdered someone.

And we see this with other blues singers

as well, that a mythology grows up around them.

One indication that Lomax was out for himself, too,

he wrote to his wife during that period.

I can quote it almost exactly.

Publicity proclaims me the most famous man in New York.

And at the same time, Lomax was always fussing and fretting

about newspaper reports and people getting in his way.

And, you know, he shunned publicity and all that stuff.

But he didn't, you know?

He loved it.

He was entirely willing to use Lead Belly for his own ends,

in that respect.

The "Life Magazine" article really upset a lot of people.

It still upsets everybody, especially the N word is--

you know, that's not something you use.

"Life Magazine" used to use those epithets.

They were not a liberal magazine at all.

Of course, that was the headline writers who wrote those.

That was acceptable in those days.

And it was partly because of people

like Josh White and Lead Belly, and particularly Paul Robeson,

who campaigned to get those epithets out

of the press and the public discourse.

It's interesting the relationship between John Lomax

and Lead Belly at this time.

Lead Belly finally got tired of, you know,

lugging and toting.

And that led to the ultimate demise of their relationship.

They're both very old fashioned, very proud,

very temperamental.

They both liked a little bit of the drink.

My grandfather used to have to carry around a secret supply

because his wife-- his second wife--

wouldn't allow him to have any at all.

She disapproved.

She was a Methodist or something and--

[LAUGHS]

That's one of the ways it explains why their relationship

didn't work out.

They were just too much alike.

They both felt-- you know, had these very strong ideas about

what was right and what was wrong and what was the correct

way of doing things and so on.

So in that way, they were very much alike.

But it caused them to clash.

It was in Buffalo that they had

their first serious encounter, where

Lomax was working in the library,

and Lead Belly came to him and wanted money.

John had a habit of keeping the money and doling it out.

Whatever he thought he needed.

Well, he would go and buy some breakfast this morning.

Here, here's $5.

They thought if he had money, he would buy some whiskey

and drink it.

And if he bought whiskey, you know,

they couldn't handle him then.

So Lomax wouldn't give it to him.

So Lead Belly pulled a knife on him.

Oh, that morning, he and old man Lomax had a big fight.

This got John's attention, to put it mildly.

Because Lomax was afraid of Huddie from the get go.

So he decided, at that point, that the thing was over.

I think there were some regrets on both parts

that it didn't work out.

Because it was grand in some ways because of the publicity,

tumultuous in others, but ended up in the rift

that ultimately caused the separation of Lead Belly

from John Lomax.

And again, like a lot of people try to make out that they

had this really long relationship, but it wasn't.

It was about six months--

I mean, the whole thing.

We were talking about doing a tribute to Lead Belly.

And somebody says, well, we have to have Lomax there.

And this was Allen.

And I said, well, will Lead Belly always have

to be attached to the Lomaxes?

(WHISPERING) And the room went really quiet.

(SINGING) Bring me a little water, Sylvie

Bring me a little water now

Bring me a little water, Sylvie

Every little once in a while

Every little once in a while

[LEAD BELLY, "BRING ME A LITTLE WATER,

SYLVIE"] Bring me a little water, Sylvie

Bring me a little water now

Bring me a little water, Sylvie

(SINGING) Every little once in a while

Sylvie, she come running

She had a bucket in her hand

Oh, I will bring you water

Fast as I can

Can't you see me coming?

Can't you see me now?

Can't you see me coming?

Every little once in a while

One day, I was walking down the street in London.

I saw a sign in the window.

"Bring Me a Little Water, Sylvie,"

words and music by Lonnie Donegan.

And (LAUGHING) I must say, I was surprised.

And when I went into the matter, I found out that Donegan had

recorded and taken credit for a great many of Lead Belly's best

songs, including the "Rock Island Line," "Irene Goodnight,"

and others.

Lonnie was a-- when I got to know him,

he didn't turn out to be much of a crook.

He was just a nice Irish kid who'd

fallen in love with American folk music

because he adored Lead Belly.

And he identified with him so much,

he just became the composer of his songs.

And he developed a kind of music called skiffle music.

And skiffle music in the '50s was the rage among young people

all over Great Britain.

A fellow named Lonnie Donegan became famous

in England and elsewhere for taking a lot of Belly songs

and playing them with a washtub bass.

Boom, boom, boom.

You pull the stick back, and you tighten the string.

Push it over here, it's looser.

You can play a tune.

[IMITATES PLUCKED STRINGS]

And blowing on a jug.

[BLOWS RHYTHMICALLY]

And also rattling with thimbles on your fingers, on a washboard.

[IMITATES METALLIC RATTLING]

All these African-American folk instruments, they just

thought they were great in England.

And they heard these records from America

and started playing them.

It was called skiffle music.

Lead Belly, his music seemed to be really fit really

well with the skiffle music in England,

and a bunch of his stuff was done.

And the one song that became the biggest hit of all

the skiffle craze was a Lead Belly song called "Rock Island

Line."

Now, this here's a story about the Rock Island Line.

The Rock Island Line, she runs down into New Orleans.

And just outside of New Orleans, there's a big toll gate.

And all the trains that go through the toll gate,

well, they gotta pay the man some money.

But of course, if you've got certain things on board,

you're OK.

You don't have to pay the man nothing.

And just now, we see a train, she coming down the line.

And when she come up near the toll gate, the driver,

he shout down to the man.

He say--

(SINGING) I got pigs

I got horses

I got cows

I got sheep

I got all livestock

I got all livestock

I got all livestock

(SPEAKING) And the man say, well, you all right, boy.

Just get on through.

You don't have to pay me nothing.

And then, the train goes through.

And when it goes through the toll gate,

the train gets up a little bit of steam

and a little bit of speed.

And when the driver thinks he's safely on the other side,

he shouts back down the line to the man.

He said--

(SINGING) I fooled you

I fooled you

I got pig iron

I got pig iron

I got old pig iron

(SPEAKING) And I'll tell you where I'm going, boy.

(SINGING) Down the Rock Island Line

She's a mighty good road

Rock Island Line

Is the road to ride

Rock Island Line

She's a mighty good road

And if you want to ride

You gotta ride it like you ride

You get your ticket at the station

On the Rock Island Line

And it was especially important in Liverpool,

among the young working class people there.

And they included the Beatles.

And it was directly from the Lonnie Donegan skiffle music

that the Beatles style came.

So Lead Belly is recorded by them

as their kind of great grandfather.

Of course, they took in Chuck Berry and a lot of others

after that.

But Lead Belly was the source.

John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones,

they were all fans of skiffle music.

So that influence of Lead Belly comes directly

into England and directly into the British invasion.

So when the Rolling Stones and many

of the superstars in rock and roll

played blues, which they had started playing anyway,

that's when White America started to pay attention.

People like the Beatles started off,

and The Rolling Stones and stuff, playing skiffle music.

You know, same as a lot of other musicians in this country

started off as folkies and moved on.

Lead Belly, you know, The Weavers championed his music

in the early '50s and got it out there.

And a lot of people started picking it up.

Early folk revival and even go into the early

'60s, there's even one of The Beach Boys records where they

cover "Cotton Fields."

So a lot of different people knew that music.

I don't know that any single artist or any single source

fueled me as richly as did Lead Belly.

Lead Belly kind of put me in focus,

and I've never been out of focus since.

The beginning of my career, there were a few records,

after I'd gone to the Harry Belafonte and the Odetta

and the beginning of Pete Seeger,

and then we listened to Lead Belly.

It was a very big deal.

And what I remember is that I knew

that I was way too White and way too young to do that music.

But I was fascinated by it.

Lead Belly played a very important part

in the careers of people like Joan Baez and Bob Dylan.

Dylan was a sponge.

And he just went in there, and then

it kind of transferred into what it was he did.

But I mean, if--

if I could pick it up and get something from it,

as my little white self, you know,

then Dylan as a male with some kind of much broader

sense of the blues would, I'm sure, pick it up.

And then, it would be part of his repertoire

and part of his life.

The very first memory I have in my whole life

is about two years old, standing next to Lead Belly.

And I've been wondering why somebody would remember that.

What in somebody's heart or soul would

place that image in somebody's life for, in my case,

over 60 years?

Something special about a person who can do that.

Lead Belly became the very clear and precise voice

that I wanted.

He sang the songs of Black America.

He sang the songs of a Black America that was in suffering.

He sang occasionally of hope.

And he certainly sang with great articulation

the life of the prison experience.

His Black protest voice really, really appealed to me.

And I was in a very protesting mood in those days.

I was quite disappointed in America, very angry

about what it was doing with its Black citizens.

A lot of these people thought--

Woody and this whole group--

that they fought World War II against fascism,

and it was gonna change the world.

And they came back to some of the same kind of Jim Crow kinds

of things going on before.

And they were all speaking up about it,

and Lead Belly was one of them.

Brownie McGhee said to me once that Lead Belly was a race man.

He absolutely understood what it was to be Black in this country,

and he kept his identity coming out of that space.

LEAD BELLY: (SINGING) Now listen

What I'm outlining to you

Negroes fought

In World War I and II

Some lose their lives

Others lose their hands

Still just fighting for the United Nation

If the Negroes was

Good enough to fight

Why can't we get

A little equal rights?

But God made us all

In Him, we trust

Nobody in this world

Is better than us

I've been hearing you speaking

About that old democracy

That diplomatic, that old hypocrite, see

I think it's about time

You should cut it out

The way the Negroes

Is treated down South

In my opinion

It's a rotten shame

Like they want to

Bring back slavery again

But God made us all

In Him, we trust

Nobody in this world

Is better than us

Nobody in this world

Is better than us

Nobody in this world

Is better than us

There are a few people who showed me

that I could actually leave where I was and stay grounded.

Lead Belly is one of those people.

After Black people were freed in the South,

chain gangs were invented.

And there is not many of the Black family that have not

had the experience of having some of their Black men

in prison.

We know more about these prisons because of the songs

that Lead Belly brought out of them.

Because he, too, served his time in this American institution.

In Africa, you sang all day while you worked.

That's why they went to prisons.

They had guys who were chopping and singing.

It was a work song.

Lead Belly was of that tradition, of the trumpet

like voiced work song leader.

A voice that could inspire a gang of men

so that when they began to sing right after breakfast

in the morning, they'd look up, and it was dinner time already.

A lot of the old songs you could hear Lead Belly singing,

he's actually punctuating with the sounds of the hammer.

[LEAD BELLY, "TAKE THIS HAMMER"] Take this hammer

Ha!

And carry it to the kitchen

Ha!

Take this hammer

Ha!

And carry it to the captain

Ha!

Take this hammer

Ha!

And carry it to the captain

Ha!

You tell him I'm gone

Ha!

You tell him I'm gone

Ha!

If he asks you

Ha!

Was I laughing

Ha!

If he asks you

Ha!

Was I laughing

Ha!

If he asks you

Ha!

Was I laughing

Ha!

You tell him I was crying

Ha!

You tell him I was crying

Ha!

I don't want no

Ha!

Cornbread and molasses

Ha!

I don't want no

Ha!

Cornbread and molasses

Ha!

I don't want no

Ha!

Cornbread and molasses

Ha!

It hurts my pride

Ha!

It hurts my pride

Ha!

I through it'd be fun to take an excursion

and go visit Lead Belly.

And so we took the tour bus.

And we were driving around these little places

outside of Shreveport and came to this little church

up on a little hill.

And sure enough, there was one headstone

that was bigger than all the rest,

and we thought maybe we found him.

And there was this wrought iron gate around him.

And one of my crew guys said, hey, they still

got them locked up, you know?

[LAUGHS] So we thought, let's break him out.

So we opened up the gate, got out the 12-string guitar,

and just sat there like I was just a little kid on his lap,

and just started playing some Lead Belly songs.

There's a whole lot of water between those two

bridges of my life, just this year

and when I was a kid at two years old.

And you start thinking about the world that he came from.

This is a guy born right after the Civil War.

That's a long time ago.

And those reflections, those things

that he heard when he was a kid and growing up

are in those songs.

This was the great intuition of the Lomaxes,

that they went around collecting these things--

not just the songs, but in Lead Belly's case, the people--

and brought them to New York, where they met up

with guys like my dad.

Woody and Lead Belly were musical cronies.

Lead Belly and Woody were the stars.

And they usually went on after all of us

had decided to go to bed and went home.

Woody would go home and Lead Belly

and he'd sit up and play till morning.

Basically, they just loved to play together.

And Woody absolutely venerated Lead Belly.

Lead Belly had gone through an experience

that very few other people had gone through and even survived.

And he came out of these penitentiaries

of the South whole and laughing and joyous and confident.

And who couldn't admire a person like that?

And he had this incredible voice,

and he had a musical fire that just

didn't exist in other people.

And Woody learned from Lead Belly.

He kept using "Irene Goodnight."

How many times he used it to write a new song,

I don't know, but many, many times.

Some of his best things were based on Lead Belly tunes.

I think they were of enormous help to each other

because they were the--

aside from Sonny and Brownie--

the only folk singers in the city at the time.

Movie making was not common then, no DVDs.

An artist said, Lead Belly, I've got a movie camera.

Would you come to my house, and we'll record some songs.

He actually recorded the songs first in a studio.

And he played the songs back, and Lead Belly

played along with the song.

And they weren't exactly in sync, as they say.

However, three years later, a friend of mine

heard about the existence of these films.

And I wrote and said, I have a Moviola in my barn.

Let me see if I can sync them up.

I spent three weeks.

And I went back and forth, from a long shot to a close shot,

and managed to sync up three songs.

There's all kinds of Lead Belly recordings.

And some of the most interesting ones

are the ones where they're trying to create this almost

cinematic sound.

He had a way of--

of making a motion picture out of every song.

He's introducing.

He's setting the stage for these songs.

He's not just singing them.

He's not just performing them.

He's telling you what happened.

LEAD BELLY (VOICEOVER): Now, this is a gray goose

down near my home.

People go to church on a Sunday, a Baptist church.

And I had a preacher which was the pastor of that church.

Instead of going to church that Sunday,

he went out and tried to kill a gray goose.

And the goose is still laughing at him.

(SINGING) One Sunday morning

Lord, Lord, Lord

The preacher went a hunting

Lord, Lord, Lord

He carried along a shotgun

Lord, Lord, Lord

Along come a gray goose

Lord, Lord, Lord

The gun went off, boom

Lord, Lord, Lord

Down come the gray goose

Lord, Lord, Lord

He was six weeks a-falling

Lord, Lord, Lord

He was six weeks of hauling

Lord, Lord, Lord

Then, my wife and your wife

Lord, Lord, Lord

They give a feather picking

It was six weeks of picking

Then, they put him on to parboil

He was six weeks of boiling

Lord, Lord, Lord

Then, they put him on the table

Lord, Lord, Lord

And the fork couldn't stick him

Lord, Lord, Lord

Then, the knife couldn't cut him

Lord, Lord, Lord

And the last time I seen him

Lord, Lord, Lord

He was flying across the ocean

Lord, Lord, Lord

What had happened with Lead belly

is he'd been working with John and Alan Lomax,

and there was a parting of the ways.

And he was kind of around New York, playing here and there.

He had a radio show on WNYC radio.

But he didn't have a recording contract.

Moses Asch put out a record of children's songs by Lead Belly.

Now, Walter Winchell, the gossip columnist, got hold of this

and said, here's this company put out a record for kids

by a murderer.

Of course, you know, no publicity is bad publicity,

right?

So consequently, you know, that record

sold probably more than Mo had ever sold anything before.

And it became an iconic recording in his catalog.

I guess the first time I heard Lead Belly,

I was something like eight or nine years old,

as a student at the little red schoolhouse.

They marched us into the assembly

and just blew my mind to be introduced

to the music of Lead Belly.

Well, he loved the children very, very much.

And he would be going to a broadcasting station,

and the children would be downstairs waiting on him.

They sang along with him.

(SINGING) Ha ha

This-a-way

Ha ha

That-a-way

Ha ha

This-a-way

Then oh then

[LEAD BELLY, "HA HA THIS A-WAY"] This-a-way

Ha ha

That-a-way

Ha ha

This-a-way

Then, oh then

Went to a teacher, teacher, teacher

Went to a teacher to save my soul

Teacher was a preacher, preacher, preacher

Teacher was a preacher

So I was told

Ha ha

This-a-way

Ha ha

That-a-way

Ha ha

This-a-way

Then, oh then

Good morning, children.

Good morning, Mr. Ledbetter.

SCHOOLGIRL: We surely like the tune

you were just playing, Mr. Ledbetter.

Do you know some more that you could sing for us?

LEAD BELLY: Well, I know lots of them.

I understood exactly why kids would

listen to somebody like him.

Because he's telling stories about things

that are, like, amazing.

It's like pirate tales or like some other--

you're looking into a different world.

I have Lead Belly on my iPod at the moment,

the children's songs.

When I met him backstage in the Vanguard,

he was very reserved.

But he permitted me to hang there with my mouth open

and watch him sing, so that was good enough for me.

Lead Belly may have taken it more seriously,

to see himself as a resource.

This was a guy who, when everybody

was trying to be sort of funky, everybody

was trying to, in some way, represent the common man,

as it were.

So they would dress like the common man.

Not Lead Belly.

This was a guy who was wearing a tuxedo to radio shows.

It wasn't like you were gonna see him!

This is a guy who would show up that way because he took--

he had learned to take his life seriously

and to see it in this historic context.

Grandfather saw him more and more

as not a representative of Black culture alone, but even more so

as a representative of American culture,

and that he was an ambassador to the country from itself

and to the world, eventually, of this.

Which I think is really the correct perception

of Lead Belly, and I think that's how people now see him.

And that's why he was so popular and so well loved.

So when you're talking about 20th century music contribution

to the world, Lead Billy has to be there because so many of us

know his music as a part of our basic repertoire.

What a resource now, to go back and listen

to some of these songs.

You can find the roots of a lot of music that we hear now.

You can find the inspiration for a lot of musicians now.

The most recorded song that Lead Belly wrote was "Cotton

Fields," and that was recorded by the Beach Boys,

Buckwheat Zydeco, Charley Pride, Creedence Clearwater, Lou Rawls,

Johnny Cash--

over 75 recordings of just that one song.

And it's just now that we can see all the different legacies

of Lead Belly that are coming out and how important a figure

he really was.

Future generations are gonna discover Lead Belly

and be inspired by him, maybe record his songs, maybe sample

his songs.

Maybe incorporate them into other songs,

or maybe just find their own voices

because they were inspired by Lead Belly.

Hundreds of artists have recorded Uncle Huddie's songs.

[LEAD BELLY, "EASY RIDER"] Easy rider

See what you done done

Easy rider

See what you done done

You made me love you

Now your man gon' come

And it's hey

Hey hey hey

If I was a catfish

Swimming in the deep blue sea

If I was a catfish

Swimming in the deep blue sea

I wish that all you women

Dive in after me

And it's ooh

Ooh ooh ooh

Yeah

[MUSICAL INTERLUDE]

[LEAD BELLY, "BLACK BETTY"] Oh Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

Oh Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

Jump steady Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

(SINGING) Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

From Birmingham

Bam-ba-lam

Way down in Alabam

Bam-ba-lam

The way she shake that thing

Shake

Bam-ba-lam

Oh, she make me say

Bam-ba-lam

Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

She really get me high

Bam-ba-lam

You know that's no lie

Bam-ba-lam

She's so rock steady

Yeah

Bam-ba-lam

But she's always ready

Oh

Bam-ba-lam

Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

Whoa Black Betty

Bam-ba-lam

(SPEAKING) Dedicating this song to Lead Belly.

Lead Belly was something else.

He was more than just a blues singer.

He was an anything singer that he felt like singing.

And he'd put that beat into it, and the whole--

I mean, when I think of it now, I think of it

more than I did before.

The music of his roots was great, and he never gave it up.

He never changed it, unlike many singers

who come to the big town.

He didn't compromise because he didn't feel he had to.

No one can say it like Lead Belly.

Maybe that's the way to come to it.

It is, it lives, and it will continue living.

And there is--

No one can touch it.

I heard that he was ill in France

and had to cancel concerts there.

But I thought maybe he'd gotten better.

But now, I realize he did not get better.

Well, Unc Huddie, at that time,

had had Lou Gehrig's disease longer

than anybody they know of they had discovered who had it.

It didn't-- it didn't just wipe him out just like that.

He stayed there and did things, walk around dragging that foot,

dragging that foot.

The last time I ever heard him sing was around October,

I believe.

Martha told me.

She says, he'd like to sing in front of an audience again.

Well, that wasn't the easiest thing in the world,

but it was the necessary thing.

He had to get in front of an audience.

And so we were in the Carnegie recital hall.

It's a big hall.

It's underneath Carnegie Hall.

And the place was filled with people,

and the lights went out black.

And then, he started to sing.

(SINGING) I asked your mother for you

She told me you were too young

I wish to God

I'd never seen your face

Or heard your lying tongue

(SPEAKING) Well, by then, the lights were all coming up.

The pin spot was opening.

The audience, they realize it was Lead Belly.

And Lord, that place just--

I mean, it was like somebody had thrown a happy grenade

in the middle of them.

That they were made everybody happy, it was--

it was a moment.

And I knew that he was getting out of it what

he needed the most right then.

They were cheering.

But he kept singing "Irene," and then they joined in with him.

And that stopped the cheering.

And everybody was singing "Irene."

And-- and that was the last show he did,

the last performance he did.

And I'm glad he went out that way.

I knew about Uncle Huddie's medical condition

even before most of the adults, but I was sworn to secrecy.

And then, eventually, I wanted to tell.

And I had to find a way to tell.

I asked him to play the guitar because I knew it was something

that he really couldn't do, and everybody

would expect him to do.

And he's always done it when I've asked him.

And this was my way of letting the cat out the bag.

Evan had come in, had got the guitar out of the back room,

out of the case, and handed it to him.

Uncle Huddie was sitting there like this,

but his hand was cramped.

And you know, he couldn't stretch them out.

And he started crying.

I said, Evan, come here.

I said, you see Uncle Huddie crying there?

He's crying because he can't play this song for you anymore.

And that's the way we found out that he could not

play the guitar.

So I just took the guitar out of his lap,

and I looked at his hand.

And he was just like-- he was like that,

and he couldn't stretch them out.

And that was--

[GROANS] that was some day.

Some sad day.

And it was in December, Alan Lomax dropped by my place.

Said, Pete, Lead Belly's in the hospital.

He thinks he's going to die.

I said, oh, that's impossible.

And he said, well, maybe you should go see him.

And I said, well, I will--

maybe a couple of days.

But I should have said right that day, I should have gone.

Because I never saw him again.

[LEAD BELLY, "YOU MUST HAVE THAT RELIGION,

HALLELOO"] Death is slow

But death is sure

Halleloo

Halleloo

Death is slow

But death is sure

Halleloo

Halleloo

Death is slow

But death is sure

When death comes

Somebody must go

Then, you must have

That true religion

Halleloo

Halleloo

Send for the doctor

And the doctor come

Halleloo

Halleloo

Send for the doctor

And the doctor come

Halleloo

Halleloo

Send for the doctor

And the doctor come

Mother says, doctor

Can you save my son?

Then, you must have

That true religion

Halleloo

Halleloo

Doctor left

He's looking mighty sad

Halleloo

Halleloo

Doctor left

Looking mighty sad

Halleloo

Halleloo

Doctor left

Looking mighty sad

Hardest case

That I ever had

Then, you must have

That true religion

Halleloo

Halleloo

Mother was sitting

On her bedside crying

Halleloo

Halleloo

Mother was sitting

On her bedside crying

Halleloo

Halleloo

Mother was sitting

On her bedside crying

Piece of my soul

My child is dying

Then, you must have

That true religion

Halleloo

Halleloo

Son says, Mother

Don't you grieve and cry

Halleloo

Halleloo

Son says, Mama

Don't you grieve and cry

Halleloo

Halleloo

Son says, Mama

Don't you grieve and cry

No, your son

Was born to die

Then, you must have

That true religion

Halleloo

Halleloo

Tragedy he never knew the great influence

he would have on people.

He knew he was good.

He was the King of the 12-String Guitar.

And he knew that people liked to sing along with him.

He never really got the kind of wide-ranging recognition that

I think he would have liked to have gotten.

And of course, it's utterly ironic that less than a year

after he dies of Lou Gehrig's disease,

that one song that's just plastered across the charts is

The Weavers' version of "Goodnight, Irene."

The Weavers-- and what made him famous was that song they

made, "Goodnight, Irene."

That's what put them on top.

Because, you know, they thought they was Communist.

But two or three years, we went from one rich man's saloon

to another rich man's saloon--

the Palmer house in Chicago, the Waldorf Astoria in New York,

Ciro's in Hollywood.

But I was very glad when it was all over,

and we were blacklisted.

In 1952, the blacklist was God.

As Lee says, we took a sabbatical,

and it turned into a Mondical and a Tuesdical Black people

in the United States had known what

it was to be blacklisted all their lives, from slavery days

on.

Don't eat here.

Don't-- don't live here.

Don't work here.

Don't get a job here.

And that's what blacklisting meant.

You don't get a job here.

And if you were a lefty of some sort,

you didn't get a job in the 1950s.

The Cold War was on.

The story of the policeman who was hitting this guy with a club

on the side of the head at the parade saying, get out of here,

you commie!

And the guy says, I'm not a Communist.

I'm an anti-Communist!

And the policeman said, I don't care what kind of Communist

you are.

Get off the streets.

Unless you're willing to say, oh, I was a Communist.

I'm sorry.

I'll never do such a stupid thing again.

Yes, I knew so-and-so.

Yes, I knew so-and-so.

Yes, I knew so-and-so.

If they have any sense, they'll confess, too.

That's the way you could keep your job.

And it was a pretty ugly way to keep a job.

So I simply said, no, I got a right to my opinion.

You got a right to your opinion.

But Lead Belly's straightforward way of working--

he was never a member of any kind of political party,

but he was honest.

And when something foolish went on,

he'd make up a song about it.

Once that actually happened, when I was present,

he came to stay with me in Washington.

Washington, at that time, was a Jim Crow town.

And you weren't-- Blacks weren't supposed to enter white hotels

or houses.

Well, I lived in a little apartment

across from the Library of Congress,

and Lead Belly and his wife came up to spend the night with us.

And the landlady objected.

And Lead Belly and Martha, at the head of the stairs,

heard the argument that I had with the lady.

And she said she was gonna call the police

and have us all put out.

So we finally had to get in the car and find a hotel.

But Lead Belly made a song about this called "The Bourgeois

Blues."

[LEAD BELLY, "THE BOURGEOIS BLUES"] Me and my sweet wife

Martha

Was standing up there

Heard a white man say

I don't want no Negroes up there

He was a bourgeois man

Woo!

Living in a bourgeois town

I got the bourgeois blues

I'm gonna spread the news all around

This is the home of the brave

Land of the free

I don't want to be mistreated by no bourgeoisie

Lord, in a bourgeois town

Hoo!

It's a bourgeois town

I got the bourgeois blues

I'm gonna spread the news all around

I think "Goodnight, Irene."

I think that was his favorite.

Because he would hum that song around in the house

or hum it if nobody was there.

Everywhere he went, that was his theme song.

And he sang it at every possible opportunity

because he realized that this song, of all the songs he had,

really hit home with everybody sitting out in the audience.

And of course, that's the one that The Weavers picked up

and made into a world song.

And I think it's--

it's called one of the great hits of all time.

But he sang it, "Irene," so it could be heard at the other end

of the bar room with no microphone.

Come to think of it, they didn't have microphones

when he started singing.

Only six months after he died, "Goodnight, Irene"

was at the top of the Hit Parade,

week after week after week.

It was originally supposed to be the B-side of the record.

"Tzena, Tzena, Tzena," that was the A-side.

But then, they turned it over.

And people said, hey, play that "Irene" song again.

The phone calls came in.

Play that again.

Play that again.

We sang it as best we could, as we learned it from Lead Belly--

four of us white people.

Did you ever stop to think how the good and bad are all

tangled up in this world?

Think of the horrors of slavery, the absolute horrors of slavery.

But where would American music be

if it hadn't been for African traditions?

Jazz, gospel music, songs like these.

The end of the evening comes along, and people said,

let's sing "Goodnight, Irene" before we go home.

He changed the world with his music.

Everybody was singing "Irene" who couldn't understand

the words.

(SINGING) Irene

Good night

Irene

Good night

Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll see you in my dreams

We learned this song, "Irene," from a friend of ours.

His name was Huddie Ledbetter.

He called himself Lead Belly, King of the 12-String Guitar.

Some people thought he was the greatest folk singer that

ever lived in America.

We knew him best as a rememberer of folk songs,

and he taught us dozens of them, especially "Irene."

This was his theme song, and he sang it for over 30 years

before he died.

Well, he died before "Irene" got to be known to so many millions

of Americans.

Huddie had a hard and wonderful life.

It's over now, but his songs are still very much alive.

LEAD BELLY (VOICEOVER): There's coming a time.

But I'll have to close this time.

I hope I'll come back again.

I hope I'll be walking better, which I will.

I'm gonna either get better or worse when I leave here.

Because I'm going to the right doctor this time.

I'm gonna do my theme song.

And it was made about a boy and a girl.

The boy was 16 years old, and the girl was sweet 16 years old.

So this is going to tell a true story about Irene.

(SINGING) Irene

Good night

Irene

Good night

Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll get you

In my dreams

I asked your mother

For you

What'd she say?

She told me

You was too young

She's 16 years old, too

I wished, dear Lord

That I'd never seen your face

I'm sorry

You were ever born

Irene

Good night

Irene

Good night

Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll get you in my dreams

(SINGING) Sometimes, I live in the country

And sometimes, I live in town

And sometimes

I take a great notion

To jump in the river

And drown

(SPEAKING) Here we go.

(SINGING) Irene

Goodnight, Irene

Irene

Good night

Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll get you in my dreams

(SINGING) Oh, you better stop your rambling.

Stop rambling!

(SINGING) I got it this time

You better stop gambling

(SINGING) Stop gambling

Stop gambling

Stop gambling, stop stealing

(SINGING) Oh boy

You better quit laying out here drunk

Drunk, drunk, drunk all night

Why not go on home?

(SINGING) Go on home

To your wife

(SINGING) You got yourself a wife

And you got a family

You better sit down

(SINGING) Sit down

(SINGING) Come right on with me

I love Irene

God knows I do

I love her

Till the seas run dry

If Irene

Turns her back on me

I'm gonna take morphine

And die

(SPEAKING) She said, go ahead and kill yourself then.

Now, sing it with me.

(SINGING) Irene

Good night

Irene

Good night

(SPEAKING) You're doing all right.

(SINGING) Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll get you

In my dreams

(SPEAKING) Do it one more time.

(SINGING) Irene

Good night

Irene

Good night

Goodnight, Irene

Goodnight, Irene

I'll get you

In my dreams

[CHEERING]

[LEAD BELLY, "WE'RE IN THE SAME BOAT,

BROTHER"] We in the same boat, brother

We're in the same boat, brother

And if you shake one end

You're gonna rock the other

It's the same boat, brother

Our Lord looked down

From his holy place

He said, Lordy me

What a sea of space

What a spot to launch

The human race

So he built him a boat

For a mixed-up crew

With eyes of

Black and brown and blue

So that's how come that

You and I got just one world

With just one sky

We're in the same boat, brother

We're in the same boat, brother

And if you shake one end

You're gonna rock the other

It's the same boat, brother

[LEAD BELLY, "THE GALLIS POLE"]

Father, did you bring me the silver?

Father, did you bring me the gold?

What did you bring me, dear father?

To keep me from the gallows pole

Lord, I brought it

Yes, I thought it

What'd you bring me

To keep me from the gallows pole

Son, I brought you some silver

Son, I brought some gold

Son, I brought some everything

Keep you from the gallows pole

Lord, I brought it

Yes, I thought it

What'd you bring me

To keep me from the gallows pole?

Here's what they said

I never brought you no silver

Never brought you no gold

Just come by to see you

Hung up on the gallows pole

Lord, I thought it

Yes, I thought it

You would come see me

Hanging on the gallows pole

[LEAD BELLY, "IT'S TIGHT LIKE THAT"]

It's tight like that

Woo!

Tight like that

Woo!

Hear me talking to you

Oh, it's tight like that

You take Sal

And I'll take Jane

They're both good looking

But they ain't the same

It's tight like that

Woo!

Tight like that

Woo!

Hear me talking to you

Oh, it's tight like that

If you want to see

A preacher laugh

Change a dollar

And give him a half

He's tight like that

Woo!

Tight like that

Woo!

You hear me talking to you?

It's tight like that

Preacher and a rooster

Had a terrible fight

Preacher knocked the rooster

Clean out of sight

He's tight like that

Woo!

Tight like that

Woo!

Hear me talking to you

Oh, it's tight like that

Preacher told the rooster

That'll be all right

Meet you at any hour

Tomorrow night

It's tight like that

Woo!

It be tight like that

Woo!

Hear me talking to you

Oh, it's tight like that

(SPEAKING) Yeah.

(SINGING) Oh, it's tight like that

Woo!

Tight like that

Woo!

Hear me talking to you

Oh, it's tight like that

[CHEERING]