David Massengill
Tales Both True and Tall
by Richard Cuccaro
In the vast landscape of America, there is a history of strong, stubborn people
who built this country. We love to remember the iron will of our mothers and
grandmothers and the stiff backbone of our fathers and grandfathers. Before
too long the corporate monolith will pave over our honor and sweat along with
its highways and malls. It will bulldoze under the old friend of a nation like a
strip mine on a Kentucky mountaintop.
Meanwhile, our folklorists and storytellers preserve our memories of a proud past.
One such singer/storyteller walks in our midst in New York City. David Massengill
came here to become a bohemian artist and has succeeded grandly. He is
predominately known for his humorous stories and accompanying himself on the
mountain dulcimer and occasionally on guitar.
In Bristol, Tennessee, where he was born and raised, he could follow the state line
down the main drag (called State Street) with one foot in Tennessee and one foot
in Virginia -- an auspicious start for a storyteller. In conversation and performance,
David still retains a gentle Tennessee drawl. The down-home humor is on display
in a recorded live performance:
"When I was ten, I believe they had the last governor's day parade.
They used to invite the governor of Tennessee and Virginia to be the
honored guests on this special day. …they had the convertible, with the honored
guests sitting in the back. The Tennessee governor would be sitting in the left side
and he'd be in Tennessee… The Virginia governor would be sitting in the
right-hand side… and he'd be in Virginia …and I was a pretty simple boy, but
I thought that was about a miracle! …and after the parade was over, I would venture
out myself… and stand there and put one foot in Tennessee and one foot in Virginia.
I thought that was the most exciting thing that would ever happen to me …in my
whole life …and, sadly, I was right." [audience laughter]
David's latest CD, We Will Be Together, is a foundation for and contains elements of
seven more to come:
1. A musical tribute to his friend and mentor Dave Van Ronk;
2. Songs revisiting his hometown;
3. Valentine/lullaby/love songs;
4. A musical version of Jack and the Beanstalk;
5. An adventure saga of the heroine child Morgana in Fairyland;
6. A sequel of Morgana in Pirateland;
7. A collection of postmodern protest songs.
This is in addition to making small 8-page storybooks that contain his drawings
-- with an eye toward full length picture books with music on CDs included. Whew!
Beginnings
Both storytelling and drawing evolved from David's parents. He recalls: "My dad was
a great storyteller. He told family stories all the time. He would tell stories about his
childhood. He would repeat them. They were always great, funny things. We didn't mind
hearing them for a second, third, or thousandth time. In camp, I would be the one telling
ghost stories. I was shy, but telling stories it didn't matter. I always thought that I had
two different types of people as parents. My mom was from Nebraska and he was from
Tennessee. I got equal influence from both my mom and dad. My mom was an artist
--she drew. She was very talented. Like a lot of women of her generation, she gave her
talent to her community. She told me stories of her relatives because she noticed how
I enjoyed my dad's stories so much. She was always encouraging me to draw. My little
drawings were important to her."
When I asked him about his earliest musical influences, he replied: "My favorite singer
when I was in 6th or 7th grade, was Rolf Harris ('Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport').
I would sing along to his live album. I loved 'The Wild Colonial Boy.' I would sing his
songs to myself. Then, around my freshman year in high school, I heard Dylan's
'Rainy Day Women #12 and #35 (Everybody Must Get Stoned)' on the radio in the car
and I got so excited. My mother and father looked at each other as if to say, 'What in the
world is going on!?' I fantasized playing and singing, but never did anything about it. My
sister had a little folk group. This was in 1963-4 when people were doing that sort of thing."
David took piano lessons, then went on to play trumpet, then French horn in his school's
marching band. In his sophomore year of high school, when he couldn't be in the band and
also on the football team, he quit the band and played football.
His last two years in high school were spent at The Asheville School in Asheville, North Carolina.
He says, "I learned how to study there, to be a scholar. I learned how to teach myself. It was
so hard -- like going to a difficult college. After that I went to The University of North Carolina."
McGovern Disciple to Folksinger
It was there that life tilted on its axis and David's life turned around. He took his first steps
toward becoming a folk singer. On the liner notes of We Will Be Together, he describes this
time of passage: "My Journey as a songwriter began in a roundabout way with the 1972
campaign for President of Senator George McGovern. I was first introduced to the Senator
by the writings of Hunter S. Thompson in Rolling Stone while a student at UNC-Chapel Hill.
I was so taken with Hunter's portrayal I left school for a year to join the army of volunteers
for McGovern. He seemed different from most politicians. He seemed sane. Calm. Reasoning.
The type to stand down a lynch mob. To set things right when they've gone wrong. To help
a neighbor and a stranger both find honest work. The type to give the hungry not only
nourishment but hope.
[Of course, George McGovern, in this (still) deluded nation, lost the election to Richard Nixon in a landslide,]
In the election's wake, I was looking for a way to restore my soul and remembered a mountain
dulcimer my mother offered to any of us children who'd learn to play it. I staked my claim and
began playing Beethoven, mountain ballads, hymns, carols, skiptomalou's, every melody in my head.
Eventually I fashioned story ballads after the style of Woody Guthrie and found my voice With a
handful of songs and dulcimer in tow I came to New York City in 1976 to begin my dream.
David was inspired by Bob Dylan and hoped to emulate him but wondered if his own singing style
would grate on people. Once he heard the plain singing style of Woody Guthrie, he stopped worrying.
He became a disciple of Guthrie, spreading the word to everyone and anyone. "I just went crazy
about Woody. I got all his records that were available at the time and bought his autobiography
Bound for Glory. I began writing songs, using rhymes. I found that all my studying rhyme schemes
and pastorals were useful. I started writing these little songs. They seemed to come from nowhere.
I wrote two songs about eunuchs. One was funny and one was sad. One was called 'The Pissed-off Eunuch.'
A waitress at Folk City told me, 'Always do that song because people will get to know you.'"
He was also influenced by Bill Cosby and the Why is There Air? album for its anecdotal style.
He also cited Lord Buckley, the formally attired white hipster, who told stories in jive, black-oriented
jazz slang. "That guy was amazing!" David says.
The New York Hoots
"After graduating from North Carolina [with a B.A. in English], I used to play at parties. I'd go for
walks in the woods with a friend and I'd sing a 21-verse anti-war song. Then, I saw an article about
this whole new thing that was going on in New York City, at Folk City. That Bob Dylan had dropped
in there. Lisi Tribble [now his wife], who I'd dated in college had already been up there for a year,
working at CBS. I figured it was a perfect thing to do. I went to one of the hoots with Lisi and heard
one guy who was fabulous and I said, 'There's no way I can do this. Then, the next guy was horrible
and I figured, 'well, I can do this.'"
At first, however, because the hoots at Folk City were so scary, David decided to try an end-around
without going to them. He got his own gig. "The very first place I played was the Dugout. I had
convinced the owner to give me a set. In the middle of my second song, I got the hook. Another
singer came up to me and said, 'I hate to tell you this, but the owner says for you to get off.' So, I
decided to start going to the hoots and get some experience. I was shocked at how nervous I was.
My whole body was shaking. I thought that once I started singing I wouldn't shake any more, but it
didn't stop. I just kept coming back. As I kept coming back, my body shook less. First, one leg
wouldn't shake, then one arm wouldn't shake. After six months, my body wouldn't shake any more.
Then I'd have a relapse, and I'd have to lean on 'em and straighten out. I began writing more. After
about 8 months in New York City, Jack Hardy gave me an opening slot for him at Folk City. Jack
had a big part in recognizing what I was doing and encouraging me in any way he could. It took some
years, but I hung in there. When you have a dream, you're oblivious to your living conditions.
My mother would say, 'David, you don't have a telephone you don't have a car, you don't have
insurance, you don't have anything.' But I thought I was on top of the world. I was living this bohemian
artist enclave that, for years and years, just kept getting better and better. There seemed to be a
series of successes that were very encouraging, and you thought, 'well, maybe I'll be next.' First
there was Steve Forbert and the Roches, then there was Shawn Colvin, Suzanne Vega, and John Gorka."
Dave Van Ronk
Then Dave Van Ronk came around and decided that he liked what I did and talked me up to people.
I'd hear from people, 'Boy, Dave Van Ronk really likes you.' For the rest of his life, Dave was my
champion. It was amazing to me that somebody of that stature did that. Of course, he took me out
touring, too. He needed somebody to drive -- he didn't drive. That's an experience that makes me realize
how lucky I was and makes me proud.
When I traveled around with Dave, there were certain rules. We didn't listen to music on the radio
because the songs repeated a lot, and Dave hated to hear songs again, after he'd heard it once.
That was fabulous because it'd give us time to just talk. On the first trip out, he told me what he liked about
my things. Then he casually started talking about what he liked about Bob Dylan's work. He went back
and forth, talking about me and Bob. Then, in a kindly, sweet gesture, he hemmed and hawed and said
'uhh, you're not as good as him,' pretending that he had to stop and think about it!
If I was worried about a new direction I was taking, I'd say 'Am I crazy or self-indulgent, here?'
Everything I did, he encouraged me, even my little drawing thing.
That last year of his life, he called me up for some reason, and I told him 'Dave, I discovered this new
thing I'm doing, these 8-page picture books. They're really fun to do. I keep doing one after another.'
He said, 'Well, you have to meet Suzie Rotolo. She's an artist, she teaches and she's having an art show.'
So we met at the gallery where the show was. Suzie, of course was on the cover of 'Freewheelin' Bob Dylan'
and was one of Dylan's most influential girlfriends and got him into a lot of politics. She's a wonderful
artist. So it was great to meet her. After the show Dave said, 'Let's see what you've got.' Dave looked
over one shoulder and she looked over the other shoulder while I dug out my little books. I showed them
eight books and they were ooh-ing and ahh-ing. It was music to my ears. I'd always done these one-shot
drawings for years but wanted to these story things. At one of my storytelling presentations at a library,
there was a woman there who gave a presentation for making books. I took a session and then a course
with her.
My Home Must Be A Special Place came out of had my going home to caretake my dad. I started taking
the stories I'd heard for years and re-creating them as songs. That was a particular group of songs that
I was worried about. I thought that I was being self-indulgent and that they were personal songs and
might not have a universal appeal. I took them to Dave Van Ronk. I asked him to listen to them very carefully.
I didn't know it, but it was his last summer. Dave was so great. He took the assignment very seriously.
He called me up two weeks before he went into the hospital and said, 'I don't know what you're so worried
about. There's nothing at all wrong with these songs.' That might not seem like much of an endorsement,
but coming from Dave Van Ronk, it was such a relief.
I thought, 'Oh, OK, it's OK to write a personal song as long as it has universal appeal.' That's the way
I'd hoped they were coming out.
Dave liked it that I liked the old things, the same as Dylan. I think I have a respect for older, wiser people."
" In "Dave Van Ronk's Last Cigar" on the new CD, he sings:
Dave Van Ronk was a good friend to me
Sharin' many of bottle of wine and whiskey
Yes 'n we set free, lightning bugs from a jar
Just before lighting Dave Van Ronk's last cigar
The great man took me under his wing
He was larger than life with the wings of a king
I know that whenever I see a falling star
It's just the ash of Dave Van Ronk's last cigar
Rising Above Racism
The Little Rascals film serials also had an influence on David. They showed blacks and whites together
and he wondered "Why don't we have that in our school?" He recounts, "And eventually we did.
That was a whole thing that I lived through. I lived through that history of going from all-white and
all-black schools to integration. East Tennessee was a lot easier than a lot other parts of the south.
East Tennessee was very Unionist during the Civil War. It didn't have the racist language that was part
of the middle class of the other regions. The middle class in East Tennessee didn't use racial language.
I don't know why, but it just didn't happen. I remember somebody moved to the neighborhood that
was always usin' the N-word, telling dirty jokes. I was bothered by it and went to my dad and he said,
'A gentleman doesn't use that kind of language… that word.' I was grateful that I came from a part
of the south where I didn't have to overcome that kind of racism.
In "Number One in America," David illustrates the atmosphere of that time:
Mayor said, "The Freedom Riders are on their way
They'll be here by Christmas Day
Our laws they vow to disobey
'Cause our school's as white as the Milky Way
Well now we're really in a fix
Can't let them show us up like country hicks
but once we let the races mix
It's good-bye Jim Crow politics"
Imagine them telling us how to live…
We're number one in America
Number one in America
Edsel Martin's Way of Life
The dulcimer that David uses in concert was made by Edsel Martin. Esdel has both his dulcimers and
his whittling in the Smithsonian Museum. He lived in a remote area of North Carolina "Edsel stories"
have a large place in David's repertoire. His "mountain man" ways, belonging to "The Liars' Club,"
his notoriety for laziness and a particular trick he'd play on people using his wooden leg (he lost his l
eg in WWII). Edsel had seen his fortunes rise and fall during his life. When David searched him out,
he had stopped making dulcimers because nobody was buying them. Edsel had stopped being known
as a great dulcimer maker, so he whittled birds. A lot of the things that Edsel was known for had slid
away. He was still satisfied with his whittling and kept doing his own thing, confidently. David recalls:
"It was a turning point in my life when I met Edsel Martin. When I visited him, I asked him if he'd make
me another dulcimer. He did, and I began talking about him in my shows and people started calling
the little store where his whittled birds were being sold and asking for a dulcimer. So Edsel began making
dulcimers again.
I didn't know how big a part of the folk world I was going to be. Success seemed to slide away at
various points. I had good years and bad years. I had people record my songs. Sometimes when things
are going good, you think they're always gonna be good, but it doesn't go like that. I noticed that because
things hadn't gone well for Edsel, it didn't really bother him. He had a confidence in what he did. He
appreciated what he did. He didn't brag about it, but he just went about his business, and he did it.
He didn't stop doing it because he wasn't at the top anymore, he just kept doing it. I looked at Edsel as
the kind of person that I might end up being. I might just have to go about my art without complaining
that it wasn't at the top of everybody's list. I just had to do it. It was going to satisfy me and hopefully
it was going to satisfy enough people to get by on."
David shared a couple of stories about Edsel's deliberate, slow approach to life with the author: When
a visiting woodcarver, not wanting to take up his time, asked Edsel if he was busy, Edsel drawled
good-naturedly, "Awwww, I was just gettin' ready to button up my shirt.' When Billy Joe Wheeler
wanted to record Edsel, he told Edsel he oughta go up to New York, he oughta do this, he oughta
do that. Edsel replied, 'I got no oughtas.'"
Meeting Edsel wasn't the beginning of David's storytelling but it added to David's store of material
"I had met Edsel about 2 years before I was invited to play the big storytelling festival in Jonesboro,
Tennessee in 1992. That was a huge thing for me. they had these huge crowds. I knew I was going
to sing songs, but I also wanted to tell stories. I started gathering up all my Edsel stories and my family
stories. I did little things back in the Village, I didn't make a big deal out of it. It was more in the form
of patter. Every once in a while I would tell a long story. All of a sudden I had this huge venue. Getting
hired at the storytelling festival at Jonesboro, Tennessee was like getting hired to play Carnegie Hall.
All of a sudden I was telling stories in a tent to 500 people.
I thought I would just be a folksinger, but it opened up into a whole lot of other things. I hope to combine
all the things I try to do &emdash; my art, my storytelling and my singing.
On Songwriting
"I really care about 'the right words." David says. "Mark Twain said that 'the difference between
the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.'
This is the thing I admire about what Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan and Shakespeare do that I try to
re-create myself in my own style. I love to work. I show people my notebooks. They haves pages and
pages of what I didn't use. I like to fill up a whole page. I write notes to myself. Once I find a vehicle,
I do research. You're giving life to something."
So it was with the wrenching ballad "Rider on an Orphan Train," one of the first songs by David that
this author ever heard. He says that "from 1855 to around 1930, a quarter of a million children were
put on 'Orphan Trains' and given new homes. They still have reunions but they're dying out now.
There have been a number of letters and e-mails from people who were on those trains." One particular
orphan in the midwest, who heard him on the radio, had the same last name as David and thought they
might be related. He wrote to David, but unfortunately there was no relation. From that encounter,
David did the research, and imagining what it would be like for him to be separated from his own
brother, wrote "Rider on an Orphan Train."
Once I rode an orphan train
And my brother did the same
They split us up in misery
James was five and I was three
He got taken by some pair
But for me they did not care
We were brave and did not cry
When they made us say goodbye
That was the last I saw of him
Before some family took me in
But I swore I'd run away
And find my brother James some day
At one point in its writing the lead character veered away from the main thrust of the story, but Lisi
remarked that the beauty of the song was getting lost. David credits her for saving the song.
David's latest CD is his fifth. We'll be anxiously waiting for those seven different CDs emerging
from this one. Because of space limitations [print issue], there was much in David's treasure trove
not examined here for ardent music/story lovers to unearth. Start digging!
Web site: www.davidmassengill.com
Upcoming Gigs include:
Sep 15 8pm Our Times Coffeehouse, Garden City (L.I.), NY (516) 541-1006
23 6pm The Turning Point Cafe, Piermont, NY (845) 359-1089
Oct 29 5pm The Uptown Coffeehouse, 4450 Fieldston Rd.
Riverdale (The Bronx), NY (718) 548-4445