TALKIN’ TULSA BOB DYLAN CENTER PRE-GRAND OPENING MAVIS/PATTI/ELVIS CELEBRATION
Talkin' Tulsa Bob Dylan Center pre-Grand Opening Mavis/Patti/Elvis Celebration
By Harold Lepidus
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. BOB!Earlier this month, I was humbled and honored to be invited to the pre-Grand Opening ceremonies for the Bob Dylan Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. From the fifth day of May to the eighth, my trip was jam packed with excellent food, spectacular music, serendipitous interactions, meeting up with old friends and finding new ones, and, of course, an immersion into the worlds of Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie. In addition, we got to see three nights of artists from different locations and genres, all with a connection to, and have collaborated with, Mr. Dylan: Mavis Staples, Patti Smith, and Elvis Costello.
*Bob Dylan arrived in New York City just over 60 years ago, trying to find Guthrie, and hopefully make it as a folk singer in the Greenwich Village folk scene. The deal to move Bob Dylan’s archives to Tulsa, home of Woody Guthrie, began about six years ago. This month saw the official opening of the Bob Dylan Center at 116 E. Reconciliation Way, Tulsa, a couple of doors down from the Woody Guthrie Center. Reconciliation Way was formerly called M.B. Brady Street, renamed to no longer honor a city founder and a member of the Ku Klux Klan, who is alleged to have helped organize the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre, “the scene of the crime,” as Dylan put it in 2020’s “Murder Most Foul.” The official ribbon cutting ceremony took place on May 10th, a couple of days after I left.
By the time I returned home near midnight on that Sunday, there were already many articles about the festivities and the content of the Center. Now, I had to think about how I should write about it in a way that would give it a unique slant, and not just repeat what had already been shared. I decided to try to write a bit of a travelog, both as a reminder to myself of (almost) all that I experienced, and to share that experience with you. While there might be a lot of so-called “name dropping” in this article, I can assure you I’m just amazed I’ve been invited into this club at all, and I don’t take it at all for granted. I’m sharing these stories with a sense of wonder.
WEDNESDAY and THURSDAY, MAY 4th and 5th
On the morning of the fourth day of May, I began packing for my trip, since I was scheduled to work my regular job until eight p.m. I’d already stocked up on masks. “Should I bring my laptop? Will I ever use it?” Got home, warmed up some leftovers for a quick dinner, set my alarm for 4 a.m., took a melatonin, and tried to go to sleep. Of course, I woke up at about 3 a.m., and decided, “It’s time to get up!” Usually, traveling does not cause much anxiety, but with Covid surges and the restrictions on what I could bring on the plane, it was clear that, over the past couple of years, things had indeed changed. Like many of my fellow travelers, there were unfortunate delays in getting to Tulsa, mostly weather related, but I arrived in plenty of time for the Thursday night activities. The woman (Kim?) across the aisle was flying in to see Patti in Tulsa and Austin. At least I got to take a few naps while on the plane.
The airport was very welcoming:
Took the shuttle to my hotel, had a quick shower, changed, and met up with my friends Seth Rogovoy (of the Jewish Daily Forward) and Bobby Livingston (of RR Auctions) at an invite only pre-concert reception and dinner at OK POP, directly across the street from the legendary club, Cain’s, where I would spend the next three evenings, rocking the nights away. Casual business attire tonight only.
This evening was sponsored by Dylan’s Heaven’s Door Whiskey company, with complimentary samples. My friend Bobby introduced me to Douglas Brinkley, who, among his many accomplishments, has been Dylan’s recent go-to interview journalist. Or vice versa. Brinkley asked me for my card, which I gladly gave him. It was then that I realized most of my business cards were back at the hotel, as were promotional copies of my book. Oh well. Que sera sera, etc.
I spied Patti Smith, who was to play Cain’s the following night, holding court in the corner, looking beautifully spiritual and majestic and somewhat otherworldly, with her flowing gray hair and black mask and just her whole vibe. At the time, due to my jet lag, I couldn’t really think of anything of interest to say to her. However, I did see John Doe of the bands X and the Knitters. When the opportunity arose, I introduced myself, reminding him that we had mutual friends and all had dinner once before an X gig in Boston. He was very friendly, and we had a nice little chat, discussing what had happened to our friends. After spending time with Seth (of the Forward) and Bobby, it was time to get our tickets and V.I.P. lanyards. We all received blue-on-white lanyards, which would come into play a couple of nights later.
Upstairs we went. Seth and I were seated at table 39, kinda near the back of the room. Bobby, of course, had better seats. Seth and I thought we’d positioned ourselves for the best sightlines for the screens around the room. Unfortunately, the main speakers gave their speeches from a stage we couldn’t see because we were seated behind a thick column in the middle of the room. However, we did get to meet Allison Rapp, from Ultimate Classic Rock, whose writing I’d always admired. We all exchanged social media contacts, and, not for the last time, Seth’s legendary Islip High School Buccaneer reviews of Frampton Comes Alive! and Hotel California were brought up.
Then we got to see the presentation of an updated version of D.A. Pennebaker’s “Video” of 1965’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” with submissions from Patti Smith and Bruce Springsteen, both of whose handwriting samples stand out, in addition to a variety of artists of every stripe submitting something to be included in this new project. Some fans on social media expressed disappointment after the buildup on social media, where many Bobcats were expecting new music by Dylan, not a new video. Watching it now, it’s an interesting collage aimed at getting traction on social media. Watch again, or for the first time, with an opened mind, below:
On the way out, I spotted one of the top Dylan scholars, Anne Margret Daniel, at the table where the lanyards had been distributed. She waved her arms, came over and greeted me with a great big hug. We first met at the 2019 World of Bob Dylan Symposium here in Tulsa, where we both gave speeches. Unfortunately, she broke her foot as we were heading to a restaurant, so, of course, I’d spent our few days together asking her about her foot, and making sure she was looking where she was going at all times, pointing out any little bricks that were out of place, to avoid any repeats of the 2019 incident. I’m glad to say she emerged from Tulsa unscathed.
Next we all got to cross the street, and enter Cain’s, Bob Wills’ legendary club that looks like a barn, where Patti and Elvis both played in 1978. Unlike the next two nights, tonight’s show was an invitation-only event. The main event: Mavis Staples!
For this night only, there were rows and rows of seats. We, of course, moved up to the third or fourth row. I’d seen Mavis a couple of times, pre-Covid, both times in Boston, as the support act for Bob Dylan. And of course, there’s that astounding 1969 footage of the Staples Singers we all saw in last year’s Summer of Soul documentary. About a year older than Dylan, her power and soul in her voice has not diminished. Her band has a stripped down funky early new wave kinda updated Staples Singers sound. They even covered the Talking Heads’ “Slippery People.”
The early part of Staples’ set, a politically tinged mix of gospel, soul, and R&B, addressed the same things artists were addressing 60 years ago, and even before. It was bittersweet, as the hopes and dreams of a generation have been systematically dismantled over time. Yet when Mavis sings, it makes one feel good, and gives one hope, if only for a little while.
A few of the songs performed appear the new archival Mavis Staples & Levon Helm album, Carry Me Home, including “Hand Writing on the Wall,” a full steam ahead cover of Mississippi Fred McDowell’s “You Got To Move” (also covered by the Rolling Stones), and an arrangement of the Band’s “The Weight,” reminiscent of the version as seen and heard in The Last Waltz.
There was a guy dancing at the front for most of the set. He even sang the last line of the Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth.” More on him later.
There was an afterparty concert at a club called LowDown, with my friend and colleague Jeff Slate playing with local musician Jesse Aycock’s band. Both men traded vocals on early Dylan songs, with the whole set channeling a Tom Petty/Heartbreakers kind of vibe.
However, getting there was a bit of a problem. The “Maps App” on our phones could not accurately get us to our desired destination. Seth and I bumped into people I knew, including Daniel McKay (Hard Rain & Slow Trains podcast/radio show), and some complete unknowns wearing BDC lanyards. We asked around, but it took quite a while to find someone who had heard of the club. (FYI Tulsa constantly drained my iPhone battery, so I often returned to my room to recharge, and to recharge my phone as well.)
Being sociable, I asked one of the new guys what his name was. He replied, “Ari Sussman.” When he asked me for my name, I replied, “Harold,” for obvious reasons. Ari said, “Harold who?” I told him, and he replied, “I read your shit!” After making sure this was a compliment, we talked about the whiskey he makes, as we bumbled our way to the club. I introduced Ari to Seth. “Of the Forward?” Ari asked.
Once inside, Ari hung out with Seth, I sat with Anne Margret, Bobby, and others, as we all watched Slate’s excellent set, including the Rolling Thunder version of “Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You.” The guy dancing in front of Mavis joined in on vocals, and an unidentified blonde woman in an orange (red?) dress also joined in on the fun. The rumor was that he was the brother of Jack White (White Stripes, Raconteurs, the Dead Weather), and he did kind of look and sound like him.
As Jeff and Jesse were finishing their set (we left during “Every Grain of Sand”), Seth, Anne Margaret and I all walked back towards our respective hotels, with Anne Margaret being the navigator, and me reminding her to watch her step.
FRIDAY, MAY 6
Next morning, Bobby texted me, offering to get me coffee and a bottle of water. He contacted Anne Margaret and her friend, and we all met at some cool place, and got a nice, healthy, simple breakfast. I brought my 2005 SXSW Robyn Hitchcock tote bag, filled with a bottle of water, a few copies of my book, my business cards, a notebook, a pen, and a couple of protein bars Bobby had secured for me.
The Center was closed to the public, open only to the invited guests. Anne Margaret, Bobby and I entered the building. If a visitor didn’t happen to arrive when someone was leaving, (s)he had to knock to be allowed in. There was a little reception area with a very kind, helpful staff, where we were checked in, and given little iPod type of things, with earphones to listen to some of the accompanying photographs, recordings, and videos.
After attending the 2019 Symposium, I knew to expect the unexpected. Mind, prepare to be blown. Passing a blown up picture of Bob and Suze Rotolo, a Freewheelin' outtake, Bobby, Anne Margret, and I watched an introductory video, with what looked like No Direction Home Dylan interview outtake footage, and some previously unseen (by me) Woodstock home movies (IIRC).
Time to enter the first floor exhibit. Within a couple of minutes, I recognized Mitch Blank, one of the legendary Dylan collectors, who donated a lot of his memorabilia to the BDC. I had previously met him as I was leaving the 2019 Symposium, and had given him a copy of my book, which he graciously asked me to sign. When I went up to him and re-introduced myself to him, he said that he loved my book (“Thank you!”), and that there’s something the Center is using a database called Starchive, and the subjects of my book will be included for research purposes (not the actual contents for copyright reasons, I assume.) What an honor!
Mitch then mentioned there was video footage captured by Bill Pagel (of Boblinks) of Michael Bloomfield’s last ever performance - with Dylan - in 1980, which was synced up with the existing audio. Then, lo and behold, there was Mr. Pagel (pronounced with a hard “G”) standing there, and he led me to the video. He said that during that concert, security was trying to stop him from videotaping this historical moment. Luckily, they failed.
Just after this, Bill and I were standing in front of a display of the guitar Kevin Odegard used on the hit version of “Tangled Up in Blue.” I told Bill that Kevin and I were supposed to meet in 2019, and we had plans to do it again here in Tulsa this year, but I wasn’t even sure what he looked like. Bill told me he had just seen him walking around the Center. I was about to contact him through Twitter, when he appeared right on cue! We made tentative plans to meet for dinner or something, whenever the planets aligned. We kept rescheduling and rescheduling, but it finally worked out.
By the way, Mitch, Bill and Kevin are three of the nicest guys you could ever want to meet.
I was only able to really spend quality time downstairs, and even then, it was overwhelming. I took pictures of everything that appeared to be unfamiliar to me. Which was a lot. I’ll share some of the highlights (from both floors):
I decided to take a break, then got a bite to eat at Que Gusto (great food, nice people), and head back to the hotel, recharge my phone, etc. Seth and I had reserved 4 p.m. for a tour of the BDC.
I went back early to the BDC, still trying to absorb everything happening on the first floor, taking pictures, watching videos, trying to focus on all of the memorabilia, but truth be told, it was a lot to take in. In fact, I took some pictures of some really cool stuff that I hadn’t even realized I’d captured. I realized that not only was I doing this for myself, but for certain friends with specific interests, and not wanting to let them down. It wasn’t until I looked at my pictures on the plane ride home did I find some hidden treasures.
When I asked one of the staff members about the scheduled tour, there was a bit of miscommunication, but ended up being a blessing in disguise. I rescheduled my (semi) private tour of the library for the following day. Seth and Ari showed up, we looked around some more, then I decided to head back to the hotel to recharge before dinner.
As I went walking down the street back to my hotel, who did I see coming up the street in the opposite direction but the one and only … Patti Smith! (with her handler/manager. Blessing number one!) I quickly, and hopefully delicately, approached her, stumbling over my words as I presented her with a copy of my book, explaining that it’s about Bob Dylan, and with typical clumsiness, said that I wrote a paragraph about her, then quickly correcting myself, saying it was a “whole chapter about how wonderful you are!” (Cringe emoji.) Not that it wasn’t true, but I probably could have somewhat maintained my cool under less stressful circumstances. But, hey! She did say, “Thank you,” and accepted the book with grace
After I walked on clouds back to my room, I charged my phone, texted friends about my encounter with Ms Smith, and then tried to relax for a bit.
Bobby and Anne Margaret made arrangements for dinner at a Middle Eastern restaurant near Cain’s, the club where Patti would be performing later that night. Seth was meeting other friends, but I invited Ari, who fit right in, talking about his whiskey projects, among other things. Great food but they were understaffed. Getting anxious about getting a good standing position in the audience, I tracked down the waiter for the bill, chipped in, and split.
At Cain’s, there was a section in front, with two rows of reserved seats. The rest was SRO. I hung out to the left of the reserved area. I saw the guy who was singing with Jeff Slate the previous night at the LowDown, so I approached him. I told him that I saw him performing with Slate, really liked his voice, and thought he did a great job. I asked if he planned on doing any recording, and he said, among other things, that he worked at the BDC. When I gave him a copy of my book, he asked if he should donate it to the Center? I said that I gave them a couple of copies in 2019, but I hadn’t seen them on display anywhere yet. He promised that if they were not in the BDC library, he would make sure it would find a home there. I asked him his name, and he said it was Leo Gillis. Since that’s Jack White’s given surname, I figured they were related, but there was too much going on to really absorb this information. I asked if he was opposed to selfies, and he said that he wasn’t (What’s happening to me?):
I reclaimed my spot to the left of the reserved section. One of the security staff beckoned me, and said that since I had a lanyard, I could sit in the reserved section. I was in the first row, texted Seth to say I reserved a seat for him. Luckily to my right was Mitch Blank, and to his right was the legendary Larry “Ratso” Sloman. I asked Mitch to explain Starchive to me (See above).
Just before the start of the show, we found out there was a mix up. The reserved seats were for those with the white-on-blue lanyards, while most of us had blue-on-white ones, including some Very Important People who donated either their collections or their money. Anyway, they let it go, and were more prepared for the Elvis Costello gig on Saturday.
I cannot properly explain the atmosphere of this gig. Even though it was a club, it had the intensity of a Springsteen-1985-Born-In-The-USA stadium concert. To say Patti is beloved would be an understatement. She certainly picked up on it, the significance of being selected due to her own artistry, and her connection to Bob. Early on, Patti said, “I’m happily overwhelmed,” and throughout the night, could not suppress a smile.
Side track: The Patti Smith Group last played Cain’s on June 20, 1978, while Costello and the Attractions last played the same venue on May 21 of that same year, back in the days of spiky hair, safety pins, and punk lapel buttons.
Patti opened her set with a perfect, delicate version of Dylan’s “Boots of Spanish Leather,” accompanied only by Lenny Kaye on acoustic guitar. Near the end of her set, they did the same with “One Too Many Mornings.” While most of the evening focused on her 70s catalog, she sprinkled her set with more recent fare like the brilliant “My Blakean Year,” “Nine” (from Banga) for her friend Johnny Depp, her cover of Dylan’s “Wicked Messenger” from Gone Again, and of course, the rousing closer, “People Have the Power,’ with a mid-concert interlude from Lenny and Tony Shanahan, with a medley of the Stones’ “I’m Free” and Lou Reed’s “Walk on the Wild Side.”
I first saw the Patti Smith Group in 1978 at the Paradise Theater in Boston, with Ian Dury and the Blockheads, and have attended many of her concerts, readings, and in-store appearances since then. When Patti was commanding the stage at Cain’s on the night of May 6, it felt like it was the best I’d ever seen her. The band, the audience, the venue, the Dylan vibe (“Who am I kidding? He’s every-fucking-where!”) - it was a night of magic.
Hanging out after the show, ready to go back to the hotel, I think this is when Ray Padgett (of Flagging Down the Double E’s and Every Tom Waits Song fame) entered the picture, although it may have happened earlier. Really nice guy, we talked for a bit, he was wise beyond his years. We’d pass each other regularly throughout the rest of our time in Tulsa.
Someone recognized me from behind my mask (apparently I was not anonymous) and introduced herself. I’d remembered her from the 2019 Symposium, when she attended my presentation. As we were talking, I looked up at the Bank of Oklahoma building (BOK), and the office lights spelled out “BOB.” Pretty cool!
I went back to the hotel to get some sleep.
SATURDAY, MAY 7th
Woke up early the next morning to get a full, hearty breakfast alone. I found some place online, and walked on over. When the waitress asked if I was going to participate in any of the May Day celebrations, I told her that unfortunately I would not, as I had a full day planned. After they rushed me out of the restaurant to make room for other customers, I made it back to the Center. I hadn't really finished with the first floor yet, and the second floor had yet to be explored.
But first, it was time for the private tour of the library. There were a lot of books there, including the donated collection from Dylan author Terry Gans. Spread over a table were some of Dylan’s lyrics displayed as works-in-progress, mostly from the so-called “electric trilogy” of 1965-66, and some from his 1967-73 notebooks, referred to as his “felt tip pen period.” I took some (semi-legible) notes:
“Mavis,” a few lines only, most likely about Ms Staples
“Look Out Kid” (“Subterranean Homesick Blues”)
“My Love She Comes In Silence” (“Love Minus Zero”)
“Just Like Juarez” (“Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues”)
“Alcatraz to the Nth Power” (“Farewell Angelina”)
“Tombstone Blues”
“Jet Pilot”
“Visions of Johanna”
“Dear Landlord” (“ … Lord I know you’re a practical man …”)
There were also early drafts of “Dignity” (There are four boxes worth!), and versions of songs that eventually would be included on Infidels. Somewhere there was a line, “While men die of hunger…,” and Dylan a reference to the song “You Belong To Me,” can be found listed in the Woodstock notebooks. He much later covered and contributed his version for the Natural Born Killers soundtrack, .
While looking at the library I began talking to another guest of the tour, who happened to be Sheri Whalen, daughter of LeRoy Hoikkala, a member of the Golden Chords, Bobby Zimmerman’s band back in Hibbing. I introduced Sheri and her sister, Shelby Duckworth, to our tour guides. They were duly acknowledged.
Shelby Duckworth (Left) and Sheri Whalen (Right)
During my BDC archaeological expedition, I bumped into Sean Wilentz, noted historian and Dylan scholar/author, whom I interviewed for my Bob Dylan Examiner column about a decade ago. After quickly exchanging pleasantries, I had to excuse myself when I saw a certain Mr. Elvis Costello just to the right of Mr. Wilentz.
I reaching into my tote bag, a pulled out a copy of my book, and with my usual finesse, said something like, “Excuse me, Mr. Costello, sir. I saved one copy of my Bob Dylan book that I’d like to give to you!” Mr. Costello graciously accepted it, and asked, “Will you sign it?” (Whoa!)
“Sure!” I replied. “To Declan or Elvis?” “Either one.” Thinking quickly, I began to scribble the following: “To Declan - Everyday I wrote the book …” I should have signed it, “A Boy Named Harold,” but I didn't think of it at the time. Elvis then asked about the book’s contents, so I told him it connected Dylan with about 120 people. Then I asked if he was opposed to taking selfies. Thankfully, he was game.
I thanked him, and then left him alone to explore the Center. It was time for me to catch up a bit with Mr. Wilentz, after which I began the next phase of my exploration, the second floor of the BDC.
Once again, lots of cool stuff, including Dylan artwork, a mini movie theater, a Jerry Schatzberg photography exhibition (he took the cover picture of Blonde on Blonde, among many others iconic images), and an interactive wall of memorabilia, which covered many facets of Dylan’s career.
During this time, Elvis was also upstairs, being given a special guided tour of the Center. I didn't want to overstay my welcome, but I did want to give Mr. Costello my business card, which I did, quickly, and then vanished from his sight. I then found his assistant, who was carrying my book for him. I wanted to have a contact email address for Elvis’ publicist, and as I was talking to this person, who should appear but Larry Jenkins, the mensch who invited me to this shindig! We spoke quickly as he escorted me to the person who could help me with Elvis’ contact information. (Wish me luck!)
After all this excitement, I took a break back at the hotel, ate another delicious lunch at Que Gusto, returned to the BDC for a bit, then met Seth for a 2 p.m. tour of the Woody Guthrie Center, just a couple of doors down from the BDC. I introduced Sean Wilentz to Seth (“Of The Forward?” Sean asked), who was obviously familiar with his work.
We watched a short documentary about Guthrie, then experienced an incredible presentation by Sam, our tour guide who I remembered from my previous visit. Sam was a tour de force, a one-man-show, detailing the Tulsa Massacre, the Fire in Little Africa album (a related Bob Dylan Center/Woody Guthrie Center project), and Guthrie vs Tr*mp’s father. There was also a Bruce Springsteen exhibition, which I decided I would visit on Sunday morning.
Back at the BDC, I was finally able to explore the second floor. First I watched the movies in a little theater in the corner. The coolest things I hadn’t seen before were 1981 concert footage (“Blowin’ in the Wind”), and some of the once-was-lost-but-now-it’s-found footage of an apparently abandoned documentary featuring a 1961 soundtrack by Dylan and Tony Glover, which was sampled along with No Direction Home-era interview footage of Tony Glover talking about some rare recording that “would drive Dylan collectors crazy.”
It’s impossible to be a Bob Dylan expert. You can be a student, a scholar, a critic, a fan. But an expert? There’s too much there, and no one in this lifetime will be able to get to the bottom of it. There is no bottom to this well.
As I was walking along and taking pictures, I heard someone with a British accent talking to a couple of people, one of whom I later learned worked for the Guthrie Center. This guy was talking about disagreements with his publisher about his (I assume) upcoming book, and how he didn’t feel the need to explain that Roger McGuinn was in the Byrds, saying if you don’t already know who McGuinn is, you shouldn’t be reading his book, and, of course, there’s the Internet.
I decided to mind my own business, but then came my Marshall McLuhan/Annie Hall moment. I lost the thread of the conversation as I was immersed in the exploration of the interactive wall of Dylan goodies, when the guy from the Guthrie Center countered something the British guy said with something like, “But Harold Lepidus (mispronounced as “Lepedus”) said …” So I walked up and said with a smile, “It’s pronounced Lepidus. I hope you weren’t saying something negative about me.” I didn’t stay long, and went back to my regularly scheduled programming. The British guy’s name is Clinton (something). I guess if you don’t know who he is, you shouldn’t be reading this. Of course, there’s always the Internet. (Wink emoji.)
As I was about to leave, I think this is when I had a nice conversation with someone who identified herself as “Anonymous” (not her real name) and her husband, Rusty, for a bit. Remember them, as they reappear later.
Back to the hotel, I recharged my battery, then met Seth at the same restaurant at which I had dinner the previous evening. It was a pleasure to just sit outside and catch up with Seth about all sorts of stuff, until the doors opened at 5. This night, the place was less busy, the food just as delicious, and we didn’t have to wait for the check. Peter Stone Brown’s name came up a couple of times, as it should.
Then it was off to Cain’s to see Elvis and the Imposters, with Dylan alumnus Charlie Sexton playing lead guitar. There was a long line to enter, but it didn’t take long to get in. Since we had the lanyards with the white background, we were aware that the blue-lanyard-people had priority seating, which was now expanded to a three row section. Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous joined Seth and me just to the left of the V.V.V.I.P. section. The Anonymouses, Seth, and I were all wondering how - or if - we would be allowed to sit in the V.I.P. section. We discussed Hotel California (again.)
I was perfectly happy to stand where we were, but, of course, who wouldn’t want to sit down in front? (As I’m writing this, I hope it doesn't come across as though we thought we were entitled to these seats - yesterday we didn’t even know it was an option! I still felt lucky I was even invited. This was all more in the spirit of hijinks and espionage.) As we suspected, once the blue-lanyard people were seated, the white-lanyard people were allowed in - this time way back in the second row!) (Wink Emoji)
Elvis and band were phenomenal! A two hour set, bookended with Nick Lowe covers, it was like seeing Elvis on iPod shuffle. It’s difficult to describe the sound for most of the set, but the best I can come up with was that there was a constant “buzz” - not a technical glitch, but kind of like punk-grown-up. It was mostly early classic Elvis with stops at country (“Tonight the Bottle Let Me Down”), songs from his excellent new back-to-basics album, The Boy Named If, Lefty Wilbury’s version of Costello’s “The Comedians,” a new arrangement for the brilliant “Brilliant Mistake,” and, of course, a couple of Dylan covers - an acoustic “I Threw it All Away,” and, taken at the 1966 with-the Hawks- tempo, “Like A Rolling Stone.” He also threw in a couple of lines from “Subterranean Homesick Blues” during “Pump It Up.” And I must admit, during this frenzied finale, I actually danced. In public. Where everybody could see me. (Embarrassed Emoji)
After the show, a few seats closer to the center, I spotted photographer Lisa Law, who has taken some of the coolest Dylan pictures ever, and the legendary Taj Mahal. I went over and asked to shake Mr. Mahal’s hand, to which he obliged. I asked him what he’d been up to lately, and he said, “A lot.” Then mentioned his new album with Ry Cooder. (Duh! Of course!) He asked where I was from, and I said Massachusetts, but originally from New York. “Where in New York?” he asked. “Long Island.” “I’m from New York too. Harlem.” Mr. Mahal and Ms. Law then made their plans to head backstage, and Lisa and I exchanged business cards.
Outside, the usual crowd was there, I spoke again to Ray Padgett for a bit, then headed back to my room. As I was walking through the hotel entrance, I realized I was following Pete Thomas, the drummer for the Imposters. As we rode up the elevator together, I told Mr. Thomas how great the show was, and that I’d seen him with Elvis all over the place, including Canada and the U.K. He asked where I was from. You know, the usual.
Went to bed. Woke up in the middle of the night, Elvis' "Farewell, O.K." rattling in my head.
SUNDAY, MAY 8th
Before I went to bed, I Instagram messaged Kevin Odegard: “Breakfast is our last chance.” I woke up to the following message: “Antoinette’s 9 am.” Got up, showered and got dressed, and made my way down. While looking for Mr. Odegard, who did I see but that Clinton guy. (Look him up. Wink emoji.) Thinking I was in the wrong place (it’s tiny), it was probably Kevin’s wife who let me know that I was indeed in the correct one.
I ordered a coffee and a coffee cake, then brought them to the table. I felt I only had a limited time, since I still wanted to check some things out before my flight. I tried to focus on Kevin, not Dylan. He talked about a project he’d been working on for years, and also the trip he took to Haiti, which gave me the opportunity to talk about my niece and her family, all she’s doing for the country, and my 48 hour visit there for her wedding. He also gave me a coffee mug from the 2019 Symposium, with a guitar design that replicates the lining of his jacket. He couldn’t have been any nicer or more down to earth, and it was an honor to spend some time with him. We also both agreed that Seth’s upcoming George Harrison book should be titled, Well, I Don’t Want To Go On The Roof.
Then it was back to the BDC, just to revisit some of my favorite things, especially the World Gone Wrong outtake, the 1961 soundtrack, and the Hawaii 1964 footage.
A quick stop at the Guthrie Center, the Springsteen exhibit, and a t-shirt for my niece, then time to go home.
Since check out time was noon, Elvis and his band were also leaving at the same time. I saw Mr. Sexton, and asked if I could shake his hand, and he gave me a fist bump. I saw Elvis, but I didn't want to overdo it. Hopefully our paths will cross again.
I made my flight and returned home safely. On the 10th, I watched most of the BDC ribbon cutting ceremony. It felt bitter sweet. They did everything right. It was inclusive, it was intelligent, it was emotional, it was celebratory. However, it seemed like the common decency and respect shown that morning was like something from out of a history book.
The world Dylan inhabited when he arrived in Greenwich Village, just after President Kennedy took office, was so full of hope. So full of possibilities. Six decades later, things have changed. In fact, Dylan’s 1963 song,”With God On Our Side,” only hinted at the lies being told in our history. 2020’s “Murder Most Foul” took it to its logical, tragic conclusion.
It was interesting to note that outside of the Dylan Center bubble, I encountered a few people with little or no interest or knowledge of what an important archive resides just a few steps away. But that’s ok. When Dylan arrived in Greenwich Village, no one knew who he was then, either. But soon, the word spread about his art, his genius. I expect the same will happen in Tulsa. People will talk. Word will spread.
Bob Dylan has never been everybody’s cup of tea. Yet, as Patti Smith said, “He’s every-fucking-where!”
Thanks to everybody involved, including the staff at the Dylan and Guthrie Centers, and especially Larry Jenkins. I am forever in your debt.
(Note to the BDC: How about some exclusive unreleased Dylan material to be sold directly to benefit the Center?)
All photos/original content (c) 2022 Harold Lepidus
* Photo: Bobby Livingston
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