As Burl Ives handed me into a New York City taxicab, he said, "I'm not sure we talked about the right things."
He was right. My 1957 interview with the famous singer/actor did not add up to the story my editor wanted. I found out later that this particular editor seldom really knew what he wanted unless the writer hit on what he had in his head the first time -- not an easy job.
So I moved on, remembering that visit with my children's idol as a personal pleasure.
I read Ives' memoir "Wayfaring Stranger" before calling him from my desk at Amerika, the magazine the US Government then sent to the Soviet Union under an exchange treaty. They sent us first, USSR and then Soviet Life. Amerika sent its last issue after the dissolution of the USSR.
We arranged to meet at Ives' apartment. I was impressed. Never, even during the
1941 interlude when my family lived in New York, had I ever seen so grand a
dwelling. The elevator went to his apartment only... obviously he had the whole floor.
This country girl was knocked out.
Ives met me in a hullabaloo of family and work-related sound. Details have faded because my focus was taken up by the bulk and personality of my host. At that time, I knew nothing of his political attitudes or his status among his fellow professionals. He and I were dealing with the real and the immediate.
"Let's get out of all this and go have some lunch," he said. We headed for "his" elevator.
A wave of his imperious hand brought a taxi to the curb in a trice, and we went to a delicatessen.. somewhere on East 86th Street, I believe.
We talked before, during and between enjoyment of borshch with a boiled potato, cheese blintzes and sour cream, coffee and cheese cake.
Ives' ruddy blonde eyebrows rose to mid-forehead. "I've never met a girl who could match me at the table before," he said.
Well, I learned many years later to regret that distinction, but at the time I was young, slim and stayed that way by keeping up with a husband, three kids and the job I loved.
Burl Ives had a very modest view of himself, it seemed to my unsophisticated eyes. He regarded his folk songs as "the ones sung by the folks," not a sacred tradition to be preserved by pretentious scholars. He described how he had found some of the songs in his repertoire. Some came from his own family members, many of them were sent to him or brought by oldsters along his road through life. Wherever they started out, those songs were turned into something very special by his talent. The whole family loved his singing. Don especially liked "The Foggy, Foggy Dew." His voice on radio or television could stop whatever we were doing and bring reminiscent smiles.
Maybe I'll call my kids and remind them; Kathy whose twin daughters had a wonderful visit with me this Spring; Carolyn whose career is in the embattled arts, and Debbie, whose musicianship started with folk, and continues with classical guitar and mellow rock.
I still have many of Burl Ives' records. I think I'll get them out and play some today....particularly "The Foggy, Foggy Dew."
Personal note... some folks might get the idea I have interviewed the entire world....this is not quite true. But these experiences are where I acquired the only advanced education I received. In "my day" ordinary young white girls weren't really encouraged to go to college. So, I thank my job for teaching me virtually all I know! Maybe that is why I remember many of these people so vividly.
All Rights Reserved
P.O. Box 2309 Ocean City, MD 21842 jocee@shore.intercom.net Other Writings by Jo Campbell