My Holy Moment with Pete Seeger

I was a freshman at Yale University in the spring of 1970. Bobby Seale, the founder of the Black Panther Party, was scheduled to go on trial for murder in New Haven, Connecticut, where Yale is located. (The charges were eventually dropped.) A large demonstration supporting Bobby was planned for May Day, bringing college students from all over the East Coast. On April 30, President Nixon announced the invasion of Cambodia, which led to nationwide demonstrations and student strikes across the country.

Yale was swept with rage. Police were called in from all over the state. The National Guard patrolled streets with jeeps mounting machine guns. Clouds of tear gas blanketed the campus.

Pete Seeger appeared for a long-scheduled concert in Yale's Woolsey Hall auditorium. As the audience gathered, pamphlets and buttons were passed out. Many wore t-shirts with a clenched fist and the word STRIKE! Activists--some peaceful, some advocating a violent confrontation--gathered in groups around the auditorium. Anger hung in the room like a thick fog.

And Pete came on stage. He was wearing his trademark fisherman's cap, carrying a banjo and a twelve-string. In the middle of the stage was a stool and stands for his instruments. He greeted us in his gentle voice, and began singing. "Good Night, Irene." "Guantanamera." His labor songs, his children's songs. He calmed us, sharing the peace that flowed from his soul.

After about an hour and half, he said, "Now I'm going to do a song that Woody and I loved. You know it--sing it with me." He picked up his banjo and began: "This land is your land, this land is my land . . ."

We all began singing with him. He lined out the words to the less familiar verses: "In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people, By the relief office I seen my people; As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking: Is this land made for you and me?"

We sang it through, many times. We stood and clapped and stomped our feet. Tears were running down our faces.

This kindly man, this man with the face of a saint on an icon, called up hope in us. This land could be a place where wars might end. This land could be a country where justice is done. This land could be a community where we cared for each other and lifted up the poor and the marginalized. This land was made for you and me.

We called him out for an encore: "If I Had a Hammer." Love between my brothers and my sisters, all over this land.

Good night, Pete. Thank you for leaving your music to us. Thank you for leaving a measure of your good spirit in the best parts of our souls.