Missing the Big Man

Tramps like us ...

It’s been almost three weeks since I heard the news.

I was working on the sports desk on that Saturday night, when Rob, a guy I’ve worked with for sometime who knew of my affinity for all things Bruce Springsteen, said, “I’m sure you’re all over this, but in case you haven’t seen it, Clarence Clemons died.”

My heart sank. He’d had a stroke days earlier, but I’d simply tried to put it out of my mind. He was going to get better, I thought to my self. I said a prayer and tried to move on.

Because I was convinced he’d fight through, like he had with diabetes and knee replacements and numerous other ailments, it never entered my mind that the Big Man might leave this world. Not right then, anyway.

I haven’t posted anything on this blog for some time, … for several reasons, most of which I won’t bore you with. But when Clarence died, I knew this would be what got me started again. I just didn’t know what to say … so I waited.

I love music. I listen to a lot. Not as much as I used to — kids, work and a tight budget have cut into my habits. But as often as possible. And as a result, a lot of memories are tied to specific music.

Bruce Springsteen’s music came into my life at a time I was looking for something different musically than the pop stuff I had been listening to. Bruce filled a void and his music meant a lot to me as I grew up and older, … the lyrics, the emotion, the passion.

And as a result, while there is a lot of music I love, Springsteen’s music holds a special place. Clarence played a big part in that music.

That Saturday night after work, on the way home at 3 a.m., I put in the Born to Run cd and played it loud, they way it’s meant to be heard, with the windows down.  I’ve  listened to the album thousands of times, and this time it sounded just as awesome as always, while at the same time sounding different than I’ve ever heard it before.  I’ll admit I cried a little. I know … it’s silly.

I guess, what I’m saying is the Big Man meant a lot to me, more than I would have thought, and I’m going to miss what he long brought to the music that meant a lot to me in my life. Obviously, I’m not the only one.

Steve Van Zandt put together a tribute show that has aired several times on Sirius/XM Radio’s E Street Radio channel, and it is wonderful. I hope to hear it again before they stop airing it.

In their first performances after Clarence’s passing, Bon Jovi, Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder and U2 all remembered the Big Man. Even Jimmy Buffett worked him into  a song.

The Springsteen fan site, Backstreets.com, has a section devoted entirely to Clemons’ illness and death. My favorite selection from their pages is splendid sportswriter Joe Posnanski’s blog post about Clarence.

Last, but not least, on his official website, Bruce himself posted a slightly revised version of the eulogy he delivered for Clarence Clemons’ funeral. Here’s my favorite part:

But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I’d written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that’s what I’m gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that’s just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it… it’s the New World. Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.

It would be strange to write all of this about Clarence Clemons’ part in Bruce Springsteen’s music and not post some of that music. While the Born to Run album is one of the greatest ever and Bruce’s most important, it’s an earlier song that best exemplifies what Clarence brought to the table.

Rosalita.

Hands down.

And while it won’t ever be the same again live, should he even play it, I’m lucky enough to watch this video in my mind and marvel at how great Bruce could be with Clarence around.

Bob Marley, 1945-1981

In remembrance of the death of Bob Marley 30 years ago (May 11, 1981), here’s a version of “No Woman, No Cry” recorded July 21, 1979 in at Harvard Stadium in Boston, Mass.

The Freedom Rides turn 50

A Greyhound bus that had carried Freedom Riders burns beside the highway on May 14, 1961 -- Mother's Day -- in Anniston, Ala.

On this day, May 4, in 1961, 13 riders (seven blacks and six whites) set out from Washington D.C. on Greyhound and Trailways buses to the Deep South.

Their journey would become known as the Freedom Rides, and they — and many more after them — would become the Freedom Riders.

The goal was to ride through Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana to a May 17 rally in New Orleans. On the course of their journey, they would ride various forms of public transportation and challenge local laws and ordinances that enforced segregation.

Two key rulings had previously outlawed segregation on public transportation that crossed state lines, but the laws were not enforced in the South. The purpose of the rides was to expose the violence often used in the South to enforce Jim Crow laws and bolster the Civil Rights Movement.

After minor incidents in Virginia and North Carolina, the riders experienced violence in South Carolina, including the beating of 21-year-old John Lewis in Rock Hill. Lewis would go on to become a pivotal civil rights figure, a speaker at the 1963 March on Washington (the only one still living) and a Congressman from Georgia’s 5th Congressional district (1987-present).

Alabama is where all hell broke loose for the riders, caught between angry white segregationists,  complicit state and local authorities and an inactive Federal government.

On May 14 — Mother’s Day — a Ku Klux Klan-organized mob attacked one bus carrying riders in Anniston, Ala., trapped the riders inside the bus and tried to burn them alive.

The riders of the second bus were beaten mercilessly when they reached Birmingham. There was much of the same when the riders reached Montgomery, where Alabama Governor James Patterson had promised protection.

The riders — by this time the group had expanded from the original 13 to include volunteers to replace beaten, injured and jailed riders, white and black — didn’t reach their May 17 rally in New Orleans. The riders were arrested and jailed whe they finally reached Jackson, Miss.

After the federal government, including the Robert Kennedy-led Justice Department, did little to help the riders, three civil rights groups — CORE (Congress of Racial Equality), SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee)and the SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) sponsored rides all across the South.

Eventually, the result was Kennedy and the Justice Department forced the Interstate Commerce Commission to enforce its own 1955 ruling prohibiting segregation of interstate travel and subsequently bus stations, and terminals, the restrooms, water fountains and restaurants.

And even more importantly, the rides proved as inspiration for Southern blacks and like-minded whites to stand up for equality, while uniting many in the North against the Jim Crow rule of the South.

I’m afraid we live in a time where most people have forgotten, or choose to forget, this chapter in our past and the violence many people endured so that future generations wouldn’t know such ugliness. And you know what they say about people who forget the past.

Oprah Winfrey, who says she owes a “deep debt of gratitude” to the Freedom Riders, will have 178 former riders on today’s episode of he show, according to The Associated Press.

Here are some other newspaper features on the anniversary:

John Lewis recalls Freedom Rides — The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Freedom Riders stood up for us, for justice — Charlotte Observer editorial

First Freedom Riders were beaten bloody — New Orleans Times-Picayune

On May 16, PBS will begin airing a documentary called Freedom Riders. Along with the film, WGBH has produced a comprehensive website all about the Freedom Rides, the riders themselves, the impact they had, a timeline of the rides, that includes key locations and events and more. It can be found here.

50 years ago

President John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address from Jan. 20, 1961:

Vice President Johnson, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice, President Eisenhower, Vice President Nixon, President Truman, reverend clergy, fellow citizens:

We observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of freedom — symbolizing an end, as well as a beginning — signifying renewal, as well as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three-quarters ago.

The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe — the belief that the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God.

We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans — born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage, and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world.

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty.

This much we pledge — and more.

To those old allies whose cultural and spiritual origins we share, we pledge the loyalty of faithful friends. United there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided there is little we can do — for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and split asunder.

To those new states whom we welcome to the ranks of the free, we pledge our word that one form of colonial control shall not have passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always hope to find them strongly supporting their own freedom — and to remember that, in the past, those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside.

To those people in the huts and villages of half the globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our best efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required — not because the Communists may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.

To our sister republics south of our border, we offer a special pledge: to convert our good words into good deeds, in a new alliance for progress, to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power know that this hemisphere intends to remain the master of its own house.

To that world assembly of sovereign states, the United Nations, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of war have far outpaced the instruments of peace, we renew our pledge of support — to prevent it from becoming merely a forum for invective, to strengthen its shield of the new and the weak, and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run.

Finally, to those nations who would make themselves our adversary, we offer not a pledge but a request: that both sides begin anew the quest for peace, before the dark powers of destruction unleashed by science engulf all humanity in planned or accidental self-destruction.

We dare not tempt them with weakness. For only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will never be employed.

But neither can two great and powerful groups of nations take comfort from our present course — both sides overburdened by the cost of modern weapons, both rightly alarmed by the steady spread of the deadly atom, yet both racing to alter that uncertain balance of terror that stays the hand of mankind’s final war.

So let us begin anew — remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate.

Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us.

Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms, and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations.

Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce.

Let both sides unite to heed, in all corners of the earth, the command of Isaiah — to “undo the heavy burdens, and [to] let the oppressed go free.”¹

And, if a beachhead of cooperation may push back the jungle of suspicion, let both sides join in creating a new endeavor — not a new balance of power, but a new world of law — where the strong are just, and the weak secure, and the peace preserved.

All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days; nor in the life of this Administration; nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.

In your hands, my fellow citizens, more than mine, will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since this country was founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to service surround the globe.

Now the trumpet summons us again — not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need — not as a call to battle, though embattled we are — but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, “rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation,”² a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.

Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort?

In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility — I welcome it. I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it. And the glow from that fire can truly light the world.

And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.

My fellow citizens of the world, ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.

Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us here the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God’s work must truly be our own.

Acting like the President

President Barack Obama’s speech Wednesday at the memorial for the victims of the Arizona massacre.

I won’t say any more. Just watch.