It might have been out of a dream, but it really happened. I can’t put a precise date on it, but Ronald Reagan was President, and he was constantly reminding us that “government is the problem” and then turning that idiotic proposition into a self fulfilling prophesy.

I was living in Silver Spring not far from the house that I grew up in near the former Xaverian College, which had since become the George Meany Center for Labor Studies. I had received a call from the Center’s Director inviting me to attend a day long songfest of Labor Union songs and poetry. I cleared my calendar and went directly to the event, which was attended by labor troubadours from all over the country, and even some from Latin America.

Well into the morning we were all shocked to see the legendary Pete Seeger stroll unexpectedly onto the stage with his famous 5 string banjo. The place went wild when he launched into the famous ballad “Joe Hill”, and after he finished the Director brought the Great Man over to meet me. Apparently Pete’s unexpected appearance at the event had forced a complete revision of the evenings events, and the organisers were going to have to spend most of the afternoon reorganising the agenda around a living legend’s participation. Since I had always “lived in the neighborhood” I was being asked by the director if I would give Pete Seeger a tour of the area, get him something to eat, and essentially use up some time until he would join the other artists in rehearsing for the evening concert. I had to pinch myself. This had all happened so fast…

We took a walk around the beautiful campus, and I told him of the magnificent role the young Catholic monks from the Brotherhood Order of Francis Xavier played in my development as a student and an athlete on these very grounds. I pointed out the zinc strips that were nailed to the trunks of all of the beautiful old trees lining the roads of the campus, which identified both in latin and english the exact name of each tree. I had been paid 25 cents each as a young boy by the Brother Superior to nail a strip on each one.

My impression of this man remains with me in vivid terms even today. He was, of course, tall and thin. He was wearing Lee jeans which had been carefully patched in several places, and a long sleeve shirt rolled up to the elbows, and ordinary canvas high top shoes. He sported a goatee and an odd little knitted hat which sat high on his head. He listened to everything I told him, and, to my surprise, he seemed interested and engaged in everything we discussed. He spoke very little about himself, and seemed intrigued when I told him about my parents, and especially about my mother, when I told him some stories about her growing up poor on a farm in Kansas. “If we have time, I would like to meet her” he said.

We climbed into my pickup truck and drove the short distance to 9722 Dilston Road, where my mom was in the kitchen, cooking soup. She knew who our visitor was immediately, and told him that she had worked in a children’s store in Glover Park called Young Playways where she had actually sold some of his children’s records. Pete Seeger was now eating my Mom’s soup, and he put down his spoon, his face lighting up as he said with great excitement “I didn’t think those records were still around, and I had completely lost track of them. As if in a dream, my mother produced two disks, and the three of us listened to Pete Seeger sing “This Old Man” and a couple of others that I can no longer remember.

We had more time to kill, and we drove the ten minute drive to the main campus of the University of Maryland where I had graduated. While strolling around the beautiful campus I was amazed by the number of people who approached him to offer their good wishes, and the humble and gentle way that he responded to recognized celebrity. I asked him if he liked pizza, and he responded “Yes, but it is hard to find really good pizza outside New York City, unless you are in Chicago, where pizza is a different thing altogether.” I suggested to him that there might be a song hidden in that proposition, which made him chuckle and say “There is a song in just about everything we do and see.”

Hoping to change the Great Man’s opinion on pizza outside New York City, I drove him to the original Ledo’s Pizza Parlor on University Boulevard in College Park. We shared a large plain pizza and endured the table visits of admirers and autograph seekers until it was finally time to deliver him back to the concert preparation at the Meany Center. On the drive back he thanked me for the time I had spent “baby sitting” him, and found it necessary to admit that Ledo’s Pizza was as good as any he had ever had in New York City.

That night I brought my Mom back to the Center and we saw a first rate production of Labor union songs with the legendary Pete Seeger the star of the show. I went to sleep that night trying to sort out everything that had happened on that extraordinary day, and I awoke the following morning wondering if it had all been a dream.

Pete Seeger died on January 27th at age 94. Earlier this year Bob Dylan had referred to him as “a saint”, to which Pete replied “Oh God!” There will be many many words of praise and adulation written about this genuine American icon in the aftermath of his passing. I had the rare blessing of spending one part of one day with Pete Seeger, and truly believe that Dylan’s characterization may be right on the mark.
Dan Rupli