Peter Yarrow and Paul Stookey Celebrate 50 Years Together in Chautauqua, NY, 7-27-12

Six years ago, my parents and I went to see fabled folk trio Peter (Yarrow), (Noel) Paul (Stookey) & Mary (Travers) at the Chautauqua Institution on July 28, the day after Mom’s birthday. Though she and Dad had attended one of Paul’s solo concerts, they’d never seen the three together, and I’d never seen any of them live. It was a landmark concert for all three of us, and I’m so glad we went then, since Mary, already weakened at that point from an extended battle with leukemia, died three short years later. This year, Peter and Paul scheduled a return visit to Chautauqua, this time falling directly on Mom’s birthday. We planned to attend, knowing that Mary’s absence would be deeply felt but equally certain that the duo would be just as potent as the trio.

With the date almost upon us, I noticed an article indicating that Peter and Paul would be at the Chautauqua Bookstore at 1 p.m. signing their new picture book. I suggested to Dad that we go meet them and get a book signed for Mom, who had to work that day. He was game, so we started our folkie adventures early that day. After being delayed by road work and confusion over where to go for the passes that would allow us entry into the gated Chautauqua Institution, we got in and arrived at the bookstore with minutes to spare.

Dad and I quickly purchased books, but then we overheard a clerk saying that the guests of honor had just gotten off the plane in Buffalo. We asked him, and he confirmed that they wouldn’t arrive for an hour or two, so we went next door, where we enjoyed an excellent lunch of lobster bisque and sweet potato waffle fries and bumped into a friend who informed us that he was there for the lecture by comparative religion scholar Karen Armstrong.

We contemplated going to the lecture too if the bookstore told us to come back at 3; they did, but we were having trouble finding it, and we decided it would be cutting it too close anyway, so we opted for meandering through the grounds and checking out the amphitheater and nearby shops. By 2:30, I was ready to get out of the heat, and I was worried if we wandered too far, we’d end up missing something. So I proposed we return to the bookstore, where we browsed until just before 3, when Dad hailed me from across the store and said, “I think we’re missing it!”

I assumed at first that meant that there had been further delays and that we would miss it because we had to head back to Erie by 4:30. Happily this was not the case, but frustratingly what he meant was that Peter and Paul were out in front of the bookstore singing and nobody had announced their arrival or noted that they would be appearing outdoors instead of in. Considering we’d been there over an hour and a half before they got there, I was quite put out to miss most of their mini-concert and was wishing we’d sat out in the park instead, but the book signing was the main event, so we got in line and listened to these seasoned troubadours banter with each other and their fans.

One good thing about winding up late to the party was that there were bolder fans in front of us who set a precedent by requesting a photo with the duo, which I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to do unless someone else had done it first. They responded with grace and good humor, and I ended up with a wonderful photo of myself between the two of them, which followed a brief and not very eloquent confession of my lifelong fandom and gratitude for their positive impact on the world and on me.

Both were very congenial as they signed It’s Raining, It’s Pouring to me and Day is Done to Mom, along with a birthday greeting, and Paul postulated that Mom must have had something to do with my enthusiasm for the trio. It was Dad, though, who had the more memorable interview, simply by virtue of his holding the Puff the Magic Dragon pop-up book.

Peter became very animated as soon as he saw that book; I got the impression it was the first copy of it that he had seen at this signing. He proceeded to gently sing the song, then interject his explanation of the mechanisms on each page, excitedly saying that he was showing Dad “something that you’ve never seen before,” which I assume was a bit of a nod to Paul’s Wedding Song, which was written for Peter’s wedding.

Then as he neared the end of the book, he asked, “Do you want to know the good part or the really good part?” He then turned to the last page and pointed out a little girl, and he did some unfolding in the far right bottom corner to reveal the included CD and the distant figure of a man, who he explained was Jackie all grown up watching his daughter play with Puff. It was beautiful to behold.

After that, we sat on a nearby bench and watched the interactions continue for an hour or so before making our way back home to surprise Mom with her book and tales and photographic evidence of our expedition. We headed out again shortly after 6 and picked up my grandma, then enjoyed a pleasant drive back to Chautauqua, arriving in time to catch the parking lot shuttle to the main gate and another shuttle to the amphitheater. We had about 20 minutes to take our places in the preferred seating section, which put us three rows back. We could hardly have asked for better seats.

The concert started promptly and with no announcements or opening acts. The lights simply dimmed and they walked out and performed Weave Me the Sunshine, an optimistic ditty that I remember well from the television special Puff the Magic Dragon. Following that, they immediately began to launch into welcoming the audience… at the same time. Snippets were intelligible amidst the babble, but it remained largely incomprehensible for a couple minutes before they stopped “harmonizing” and gave a more sedate greeting, with Peter wondering mischievously how long we sat there scratching our heads before we realized they were having us on. He also noted that this was the fourth time they’d performed at Chautauqua but the first without Mary, which made this concert feel particularly significant. He discussed the strangeness of taking the stage without her but said that he and Paul had observed in the past three years that during such concerts, “her presence is felt as much as her absence.”

He and Paul shared many anecdotes about Mary throughout the evening, from some of the tributes that were paid her at the memorial service at Manhattan’s Riverside Church (“where the communists go to congregate,” Peter quipped) and the times when they can hear her scolding them, particularly when Peter takes a long digression en route to singing a song. They also encouraged the audience to sing along and furnish her vocals to some degree, particularly with John Denver’s Leavin’ on a Jet Plane, which strongly showcased Mary during her life. Their warm respect for Mary was apparent every time they related a memory of her, whether it was the March on Washington or a moment late in her life, but that didn’t stop them from kidding around about her too. Like the best episodes of M*A*S*H, this concert moved swiftly from laugh-aloud funny to deeply moving and back again without missing a beat.

When I saw Peter, Paul & Mary in 2006, I had some expectations of what songs I was likely to hear, but much of it came as a surprise. That sense of curious anticipation was diminished this time around once I realized that nearly every song performed this time was also a part of the set list in 2006. That didn’t make the songs any less enjoyable, however. The zany mayhem of Tom Paxton’s The Marvelous Toy was amplified this time around without Mary there to keep “her boys” from getting carried away with sound effects. The audience joined so readily and heartily in with Puff the Magic Dragon that the absence of one voice could hardly be sensed in the midst of that communal moment. That song followed a lengthy introduction in which Peter bemoaned the absurdity of the popular notion that Puff is really about drugs, insisting that it is a lament about lost innocence and the depleted capacity to believe remarkable things once one ages. “You grow up,” he said, “and then what happens? Well, if you’re really lucky, someone takes you to Chautauqua, and you soak up the inspiration and you learn to believe in dragons again.”

Peter, who spent some time in Chautauqua as a boy, had only praise for the idyllic community meant as a haven of relaxation, intellectual stimulation and peaceful interaction. It is a location perfectly suited to the message the trio presented from its inception 50 years ago. This is a group synonymous with idealism and activism, and that spirit of social change came through loud and clear in many of evening’s songs. Because these were designed for group singing, the crowd was especially hearty for the exultant Have You Been to Jail for Justice?, the somber Where Have All the Flowers Gone?, the jubilant This Land Is Your Land and the galvanizing If I Had a Hammer and Blowin’ in the Wind. During the solo portion of the show, Peter also led the group in a medley that included This Little Light of Mine and Down By the Riverside.

Other songs included the classic Day Is Done, which was particularly neat to hear because it was the book I bought for Mom; the simple but powerful Garden Song; the gentle, wonder-filled It’s Magic, which so aptly describes the experience of seeing these folkies in concert; The Kid, a gorgeous ballad about an incurable dreamer; and Don’t Laugh at Me, an earnest plea against bullying.

We got a full two hours of music punctuated by an intermission that came after what appeared to be the end of the concert until Peter popped back out a minute later and said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, that was just the first half of the show. We’ll be back in 15 minutes.” The final song of the night was Goodnight Irene, and the only songs I didn’t recognize were Paul’s solos, one a solemn reflection about looking at the big picture and the other a wry ode to a tiny New England town that he was commissioned to write. Entitled The Cabin Fever Waltz, this funny song had a strong resonance since a majority of the audience was from the Snow Belt. There was also the solo of another Paul, backup instrumentalist Paul Prestopino, who played several stringed instruments throughout the evening and treated the audience to a lively banjo tune. Meanwhile, Peter sang The Wedding Song, which was especially neat because he said it was the first time he had performed it on stage in the presence of Paul.

The feel of this concert was very similar to the last one. There were times when they seemed to be experimenting, just trying a different approach now that it was only two of them, and that usually led to a lot of funny banter. For instance, Peter proposed at one point during Puff that he lead the audience in the whirring sound from The Marvelous Toy while Paul sang the chorus, and he soon concluded that it didn’t work, though I suspect he never really thought it would in the first place. At a few points, Mary was especially missed as Peter or Paul led the audience while juggling a guitar; without an instrument to maneuver, she was often in a more convenient position to engage the crowd. Still, the sense of solidarity and community was every bit as strong this time around, and the level of interaction was unsurpassed by any other performers I have seen live.

After the concert, Peter stopped by the souvenir stand to sign books, and Paul may have dropped in later, but we didn’t stick around to find out. We smiled at Peter as we passed and made our way to the van, the music ringing in our ears and the inspiration coursing through our veins. This concert was billed as a 50th anniversary event, and it was one of the only joint concerts Peter and Paul did this year. I would love to attend a solo concert by either one sometime, but the magic that was part of the trio remains with the duo, and anyone who has the chance to see them perform together should seize it. These men are musical legends, and after an evening with them, the world starts to feel like a friendlier and more hopeful place.