Podcast, Episode 4: Robert E. Lee and the Politics of Historic Preservation
In this episode, Colin talks about the recent efforts to remove statues of Confederate leaders, including one of Robert E. Lee, in New Orleans. Is this a good idea? And if so, by what criteria do we measure historical figures?
Colin’s discussion takes him from Robert E. Lee and Huey Long, to Andrew Jackson and Johnny Cash, discussing how we remember people–whether soldiers, authors, politicians, or musicians.
By Colin Woodward
Every now and then I like to write about my favorite solo artist and native southerner Bobby Bare, Jr. In September, I caught Bobby again at the White Water Tavern, where he has played twice in the last few months. He had never visited White Water until earlier this year. In September, as always, Bobby put on an entertaining show.
A few years ago, his life on the road was filmed for the documentary, Don’t Follow Me (I’m Lost). The title comes from a song on his 2004 album At the End of Your Leash. It also serves as something of a warning for those who want to pursue a career in music.
I recently finished watching the movie for a second time. The documentary is a godsend for Bare fans, and it gives much insight into the life of a working musician. We see Bare hustling from gig to gig, dropping off a CD for a deejay (who isn’t even there to open the door to the front of the building), avoiding a pesky homeless person, and the anxiety of not sure some nights where you’ll be staying. Sometimes Bobby gets a few hundred dollars, another time as much as a thousand. But after a show, it’s back to the van, which Bobby shares with his underpaid backing players. At one point, Bobby is interviewed in a bar. He is asked, “What’s your dream?” Bobby’s response: to make enough money so that people leave him alone.
His family is on the road
Amid the musical madness, Bobby, who has three children, juggles a home life. Early in the movie, we see him on stage, where he discusses his girlfriend going into labor. Why isn’t he home with his newborn child? He needs to keep gigging. The film understands the high-spirited nature of live music. But for Bobby and his band, there’s no glamor here, and not much money. Imagine the pressure of a job that provides you with no health benefits, retirement, or even job security.
Bobby lives gig to gig, but he was born into country music royalty. The movie opens with him singing with his father–who is in the Country Music Hall of Fame–at the Grand Ole Opry. Bobby might have become a Hank Williams, Jr., type. But he didn’t, thankfully. Bobby’s music has country flare, but it would leave most Opry types bewildered. And as much as Bobby tries to be a good father, his large family of touring musicians see him more often.
From alternative to alt-country
Bobby established himself in the 1990s alternative scene before taking a turn into what is now called alt-country. His first two albums were the fruit of the still vibrant grunge scene. Since then, he has become more eclectic and introspective. Bobby couldn’t become part of the Nashville establishment, even had he wanted to. And yet, one could say he has done for Nashville what Kurt Cobain did for Seattle. BBJ’s music can be twangy, but it owes more to the Pixies, the Smiths, the Who, and My Morning Jacket than to what you’re likely to hear on Music Row. Still, Bobby says for all the bad music Nashville produces, it also makes some of the best music anywhere. And he can claim much of that good music as his own. Nashville is lucky to have him.
Approach with caution
The film rarely strays from showing Bobby at work, and because of this, he succeeds in remaining something of a cipher. He has a great sense of humor and is passionate about his music. But he’s the kind of guy that a fan would be cautious to approach. When one woman in Richmond has him sign her copy of A Storm, a Tree, she says, “I had never heard of you before tonight.” Bare responds without missing a beat, “I had never heard of you either.” When another fan congratulates Bare on refusing to sell out, Bobby claims, somewhat testily, he would, That is, if he could only find the right person to sell out to.
More than one person the film wonders why Bobby isn’t more famous than he is. Bobby is probably tired of hearing such talk. He knows the music industry doesn’t owe him anything. he could be much worse off. Sure, there are much better paid musicians, but there are many more who can’t earn a living at all from their songs.
Niche music
The music industry has changed dramatically from where it was twenty years ago. Don’t Follow Me could serve as both an inspiration for musicians who stay true to themselves or a cautionary tale in how pursuing your art will destroy any chance you might’ve had at a normal, stable life. The movie illustrates well the highs and lows of being a niche musician. One minute, you’re flanked by people in animal costumes, playing for young kids who have never heard of you. The next minute your invited to a house party where the host has everything you’ve ever recorded. And he had plenty of free booze.
Bobby admits that he is not cut-out for a 9-5 job. He doesn’t say it, but he’s an artist. Music may not be the only thing he could make a living at, but it certainly is the only thing he wants to do. And it’s clear that it’s the only thing he should do.
Play. Repeat.
I don’t know how many times I’ve listened to Bobby’s albums. Hundreds of times, altogether. His music may never appeal to a wide audience, but it has an addictive quality. It hooks you. It’s rare for me to connect at a personal level with a rock musician. But I probably feel a lot like Hayes Carll, who was interviewed for the film and said he liked Bare’s music so much when he first heard it that he wanted to know everything about him.
Rock and Roll Halloween
If you like Bobby Bare, Jr., you may be somewhere in this film. I discovered Bobby’s music in Richmond back in October 2010. Much to my amazement, footage from that weekend was used in Don’t Follow Me. In Richmond, Bobby was in full rock star mode. He had an uncharacteristically heavy cough and looked like he hadn’t slept in days. The movie shows him downing lots of whiskey, and later, we see him “resting” on the ground outside the National Theatre. he was on the same bill that weekend with Drive-By Truckers. And Richmond was probably short of Jack Daniels come Monday.
Before that Halloween weekend, I didn’t know who Bobby was. Despite that, I could remember every song from the warmup set he played before the Truckers came on. The next day, I went to a record store and bought A Storm, A Tree, My Mother’s Head. I loved it. Still do. In fact, it’s one of my favorite albums.
Leave them wanting more
Don’t Follow Me gives one of the best inside looks at a touring musician you’re likely to see. But as for the personal Bobby, we don’t learn all that much. We see things get rocky with his girlfriend, but when pressed to give us details, Bobby declines.
At another point, he says that the ever-changing nature of his backup band has kept him back professionally. But why? Why has he chosen to work with so many different musicians over the years? Is he difficult to work with, or does he like the freshness that comes with so many different players interpreting his music? I’d like to know more.
What is certain is that Bobby’s music is ingenious. And the next time he’s playing in town, I’ll be there.
Colin Woodward is a historian and archivist. He is the author of Marching Masters, Slavery, Race, and the Confederate Army during the Civil War (University of Virginia Press, 2014). He is writing a second book on Johnny Cash.
This one of my favorite photographs of my former home, Richmond, Virginia: tobacco growing on Monument Avenue in the early 19o0s. Courtesy: Valentine Richmond History Center.
Douglas Southall Freeman, who was born in Virginia and was the son of a Confederate soldier, worshiped Robert E. Lee. Freeman lived most of his life in Richmond, where he worked at the city’s News-Leader newspaper. On his drives to work, he liked to salute Lee’s statue on Monument Avenue.
Freeman was a creature of his time. He lived and worked in a segregated, Jim Crow South; and his works on the Confederate army rarely discuss the importance of slavery in the southern military. Thankfully, we can now pull Joseph Glatthaar’s General Lee’s Army off the shelf if we want to read more about the racial dynamics of the Army of Northern Virginia and to get more of a “bottom-up” view of the Rebel war effort. Yet, Freeman’s work still holds up well. A few years ago, I read volume three of Lee’s Lieutenants, which is beautifully written and well-argued. It epitomizes great, sweeping narrative military history. Freeman did for the AONV what Bruce Catton did for the Army of the Potomac; only Freeman did it first. Freeman was also active in battlefield preservation. When I visited Gaines’ Mill battlefield last year, I saw a monument that D. S. Freeman had helped put there. He also worked hard to preserve the Petersburg battlefield.
Freeman’s unrelenting personal schedule is well documented. He liked to rise before dawn, make breakfast and then head to the newspaper office. Around mid-day, he’d drive home for a nap and lunch. After work, he’d spend four or five hours doing research and writing. His house was also equipped with a radio studio room, where he recorded news broadcasts. Freeman did all this in addition to being married and raising several children. Of course, having a few servants didn’t hurt. Even though he died at the relatively young age of 67, Freeman completed three multi-volume works on Virginia history. His personal correspondence was also voluminous. At one point in college, Freeman was so wrecked from denying himself sleep that he had to walk with a cane. His father helpfully pointed out that his son needed to get eight hours of sleep a night.
I think Dr. Freeman wished he could have attained military glory himself. Unfortunately for him, he was too old for World War I and was much too old for WWII. However, he wrote to his son at one point during WWII about the possibility of serving with the forces in Europe, perhaps as an adviser. Freeman wanted to be close to the action. He never made it to Europe, but he left his stamp on the war effort all the same. It was Freeman who came up with the term “liberation” of France, rather than invasion. And Freeman was very influential in Eisenhower getting the presidential nomination in 1952.
Douglas Southall Freeman set a high standar for Civil War scholarship. If his multi-volume histories are not the kind of writing most Civil War scholars strive to emulate anymore, good narrative studies are still very popular among Civil War buffs. Academics don’t write like Freeman today, but they don’t usually grip the reader the same way either.
As are all historians, Freeman was a flawed man. It is the fate of all scholars to have their worked eclipsed by the next generation of historians. Yet, Dr. Freeman rightly deserved the accolades and awards he earned in his lifetime, including two Pulitzer Prizes. Not bad for a boy from Lynchburg.
Here’s a link courtesy of Kevin Levin at Civil War Memory.
All this was happening while I was in Virginia, and I think it takes a special talent to piss off Ed Ayers. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen him speak on several occasions and have seen him walking the halls at the VHS. He seems like a very nice guy, but I can understand how Gov. McDonnell would annoy him. Ayers has had a brilliant career (both as an academic and administrator), which has included some great scholarship on the South and race. As the head honcho at the University of Richmond, it would’ve been disappointing had he not spoken out against what McDonnell was saying, just a few miles away on the capitol grounds. Ayers is too good a historian to let the governor whitewash (literally) the Old Dominion’s past.
To be fair to McDonnell, he did backtrack after the public outcry against the governor’s proclamation. And we probably shouldn’t have been surprised at what he said: McDonnell rode the Tea Party-inspired, anti-Obama wave into office. But given that this is the 21st century, not the late-19th, it was distressing that the governor of Virginia could be so out of touch with his adopted state’s history. Granted, McDonnell is Pennsylvania-born, with degrees from Notre dame and Boston University, but he’s mostly lived in Virginia.
Virginia law allows its governor only to serve one term. McDonnell will be gone in a few years. Maybe Ed Ayers should run?
Colin Edward Woodward's Official Site 