Taken too Soon

Harry Chapin "You are the Only Song" His Final Concert

The last of the balladeers, a troubadour of sorts and not a particularly handsome one either. Songs with gut wrenching feeling that could never fit in a 3 ½ minute time slot. HE was known for saying “to hell with 3 ½ minute songs, I’ve got a story to tell!”

In his 47 song “Story of a life” set, less than half a dozen songs were under 3 ½ minutes.

Long Before the autographs, hugs and kisses I was already hooked. It may have been the mournful solo by ”Mr. Tanner”. Maybe it was the injustice by the “Mayor of Candor” (which was offered three screenplay proposals.) Perhaps the saga presented to us in two installments ten years apart about a stoned “taxi” driver growing up drew me to this writer. Maybe the relationship I had with my dad forced me to relate to “cat’s in the cradle”. We all fell in love with the morning dj who had the “bright good morning voice who was heard but never seen”.

The lyricist had just 4 hits although he wrote over 100 songs. These hits included Taxi, w*o*l*d, cat’s in the cradle and sequel (to taxi). Perhaps by now you’ve figured out who I’m eulogizing. Mr. Harry Forster Chapin, nipped in his prime at only 38 years. But in that time, oh the things he accomplished.

He possessed the powers to connect listener to character. Whatever he wrote you felt that you knew who he was talking about or you listened intently nearly enraptured in the lyrical pursuit. Every character, perhaps a little bit you, a little bit me. He forced you to empathize and he did it relentlessly.

He was an extremely modest fellow usually exhibiting a grin that forced you to grin back at him. He would always wear a rumpled button up shirt and tattered jeans that beckoned you to disregard his appearance and focus on his heart.

The day he died (July 16^th, 1981) I was vacationing just a couple hours from the accident. He was rear-ended by a semi. I was shocked as I had just enjoyed a concert of his a month or so earlier. He was driving his daughter’s Volkswagen because his van’s tape deck was broken. Leave it to Harry! He had to have his music: it just made him whole!

His efforts for world hunger posthumously awarded him the prestigious honor of the congressional gold medal. In his ten year span of performing over 2000 concerts more than half were benefit concerts for World Hunger Year. Johnny Carson allowed him to sing on the tonight show but he was not permitted to sit on the couch because Harry would not talk about anything except for world hunger and our responsibilities. Bruce Springsteen would walk the other way when he saw Harry coming.

He was a non-conformist who not only wrote about the woes of society but cared enough to give some answers. A non-conformist who didn’t care if he was liked, didn’t care if he won people’s hearts, even though he took a small piece of mine to heaven with him.

There were several “givens” in his shows. You knew that he would use the local radio station’s call letters when singing w*o*l*d. You knew the 30,000 pounds of bananas would evolve into a charming epic with audience participation of screaming out, “Harry, it sucks!” I still have my “Harry, it sucks” banana concert tee. You always knew Harry would pitch an awesome encore with “circle”

H. Chapin---“I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to go out and get stoned with the guys. I did that earlier in my life, and I’m not convinced it’s going to solve anything for me or for anybody else.”

I’ve included an entry from this storyteller’s final journal. It explores his love in a most profound fashion.

I live inside my music, I love the spaces there

I can soar inside my stories, they can take me anywhere

You might say he’s up there working, we’ve got jobs and singing’s his

But to me, I see it differently, it’s the only world there is

Cause I’m living in my music castle, my walls are made of sound

My band’s my music soldiers, we come to conquer towns

As I ride out on each melody, my microphone’s my sword

I’ve got to slay the audience, applause is my reward

But when the song is over and the stage is dark and bare

My motel is a dungeon, no one’s waiting there

And this king in all his finery is just a jester or a clown

And my castle is my playing cards that all come tumbling down.

I must finish this eulogy with one of his most touching love songs.

You Are the Only Song

I've sung it all tonight
Almost every story that I know
And now when they turn out the spotlights
I'm not sure where I'm s'posed to go
And I'm so hoarse I can't hit the high notes
It's just a whisper when I'm low
But when you sing from the inside
You hope that something shows
And that it why

Yes you are the only song, the only song I need
You're my laughter and you're my lonely song
You're the harvest and you're the seed
And you're my first and my final song
For you own me indeed
Oh yes, oh yes,
Yes, after all is said and done
You're the one song that I need

I've sung my songs to silence
To empty clubs and crowded bars
I've sung my songs to standing room
Even sung 'em to the stars
But the faces they fade together
And the applause it's gone so fast
And the story of every darkened stage
Is that the glory just does not last

And that is why
Yes after all is said and done
You're the one song that i need

And Harry, I needed you much longer than you were given.

Hugs, Happiness and Harmony,

Julie