>The legendary Jack Elliott, who plays Hugh’s Room tomorrow, is apt to talk about anything — except maybe politics.

Ramble on, Jack
True to his name, chat with Ramblin' Jack Elliott can go anywhere or to anyone Talk about Bob and Woody. Or end up talking to a boat builder, writes Vit Wagner


VIT WAGNER
POP MUSIC CRITIC

Ramblin' Jack Elliott, the cowboy troubadour widely acknowledged to have bridged the totemic careers of Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan, has come by his stage name honestly.

A Brooklyn-born doctor's son who came into the world on Aug. 1, 1931 as Elliott Charles Adnopoz, Ramblin' Jack is a peripatetic yarn-spinner renowned for larding interviews and performances with discursive anecdotes detailing a storied folk career that recently earned him a lifetime achievement award from the BBC.

But you can't accuse him of monopolizing the conversation. During a 30-minute phone interview from Elliott's oceanside spread 100 kilometres north of San Francisco, nearly as much of a reporter's time is passed chatting with the folks who happen to stroll by as is spent querying the man himself.

"Hey, man," Elliott says to someone in the room, "want to say hello to a journalist in Toronto?

"This is Charley Parker," Elliott says into the phone, by way of introduction. "He's a wooden boat builder from Sausalito."

Elliott loves sailing at least as much as he loves riding horses, so it's probably only a small coincidence that a boat builder just happens to be sticking his head in the door at 9 a.m.

"I've done a little repair work on his boat," says Parker genially, as if talking to a journalist in Toronto is the sort of thing that's bound to happen when you pop by Ramblin' Jack's place. "He has what's called a Penguin sailboat — about 12 feet long. I raced him in a smaller boat and beat him."

"He tied a bunch of tin cans to my rudder when I wasn't looking," Elliott says, chortling in the background.

"Yeah," Parker allows, "I forgot to mention that part."

At another point, Elliott is trying to recall the last time he performed in Toronto. The press release for his show tomorrow at Hugh's Room says it's his first gig here in a dozen years.

"It seems more like 20," Elliott says. "The last time I saw Gordon Lightfoot he was chubby and he didn't have a moustache."

Elliott has heard all about Lightfoot's recent ill health and is pleased to learn that his old friend is booked to play Massey Hall again in May. Just when he seems on the point of regaling the listener with a choice anecdote about Lightfoot, Elliott's attention is distracted.

"Excuse me," he says, "my pardner just came back in. I think he went out for a smoke or something. You want to talk to a real cowboy? His name is Mike Beck. He plays guitar, too.

"I'm talking to a Toronto newspaper," he continues, passing the phone to Beck. "Tell them about Ramblin' Jack."

Beck, 50, a friend for 15 years, has performed numerous times with Elliott, both as an opening act and an accompanist. But he isn't joining Elliott for Roots on the Rails, the movable train trip/concert series that set out from Vancouver on Saturday and arrives in Toronto today. Instead, Beck has a gig with Ian Tyson at the Bluebird in Nashville.

The night before the interview, Beck and Elliott drove down to Oakland to take in a concert by Bob Dylan and Merle Haggard.

"What an odd show that was," Beck says. "I loved Merle. He was so nice to Jack. But Bob ... His whole thing is so weird. Don't get me wrong. I'm his biggest fan. But they had to clear the whole backstage — even Merle's band had to get out of the way — just because Bob's going to walk through the room.

"Come on. These are all professionals, man. Nobody's going to hit on him or do anything stupid to him. What a sad way to live."

If Elliott perceived any slight he isn't letting on. On the contrary, he's still chuffed by the glowing words about him in Chronicles, the Dylan autobiography published last year.

The two hung around a fair bit after Dylan introduced himself to the Greenwich Village folk crowd in the early 1960s, and Elliott tagged along with Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue in 1975. But it was Dylan's initial encounter with Elliott that convinced Dylan of surrendering any thoughts he had of inheriting Guthrie's mantle.

Dylan crowned Elliott "King of the Folksingers" and noted "he was a brilliant entertainer, something most folk musicians didn't bother with."

"I was surprised," Elliott says of the tribute. "I didn't know if he would come out and say things like that about me — or about anybody, for that matter."

In some ways, the differences between Elliott and Dylan are more significant than the similarities. For one thing, Elliott has made his name as an interpreter of songs written by others, while Dylan is arguably the greatest songwriter of the past half-century.

Both, however, share a reticence for having their careers cast in a political light, which seems odd coming from disciples of Guthrie.

"Woody was an extremely political minded person," says Elliott, who toured with Guthrie. "I listened to him rant and rave about politics for about five years.

"I sing some of Woody's songs that are very strong criticisms of the way the country is being run, but I don't get political in the way of the Weavers or Pete Seeger. I don't identify well with the masses or feel like I'm a strident member of the human race."

As for Dylan's persistent disavowal of political artistry, Elliott is of two minds.

"Some of the songs he wrote were a great criticism of the way things are in the country, which has got to come under the heading of political. Like `The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll' or `A Hard Rain's A-gonna Fall,' which is a warning of how we've doomed the earth to a horrible and ever-hastening death.

"But back in the days when we spent more time together, we never talked about politics.

"I don't like to talk politics," Elliott concludes. "I like trucks and boats. And I used to love travelling, but the airports make it very uncomfortable. And the flying, too. The seats are too small. I've got back problems, so it's not as much fun as it used to be when I was a young rambler."

>The legendary Jack Elliott, who plays Hugh’s Room tomorrow, is apt to talk about anything — except maybe politics.

Ramble on, Jack
True to his name, chat with Ramblin' Jack Elliott can go anywhere or to anyone Talk about Bob and Woody. Or end up talking to a boat builder, writes Vit Wagner


VIT WAGNER
POP MUSIC CRITIC

Ramblin' Jack Elliott, the cowboy troubadour widely acknowledged to have bridged the totemic careers of Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan, has come by his stage name honestly.

A Brooklyn-born doctor's son who came into the world on Aug. 1, 1931 as Elliott Charles Adnopoz, Ramblin' Jack is a peripatetic yarn-spinner renowned for larding interviews and performances with discursive anecdotes detailing a storied folk career that recently earned him a lifetime achievement award from the BBC.

But you can't accuse him of monopolizing the conversation. During a 30-minute phone interview from Elliott's oceanside spread 100 kilometres north of San Francisco, nearly as much of a reporter's time is passed chatting with the folks who happen to stroll by as is spent querying the man himself.

"Hey, man," Elliott says to someone in the room, "want to say hello to a journalist in Toronto?

"This is Charley Parker," Elliott says into the phone, by way of introduction. "He's a wooden boat builder from Sausalito."

Elliott loves sailing at least as much as he loves riding horses, so it's probably only a small coincidence that a boat builder just happens to be sticking his head in the door at 9 a.m.

"I've done a little repair work on his boat," says Parker genially, as if talking to a journalist in Toronto is the sort of thing that's bound to happen when you pop by Ramblin' Jack's place. "He has what's called a Penguin sailboat — about 12 feet long. I raced him in a smaller boat and beat him."

"He tied a bunch of tin cans to my rudder when I wasn't looking," Elliott says, chortling in the background.

"Yeah," Parker allows, "I forgot to mention that part."

At another point, Elliott is trying to recall the last time he performed in Toronto. The press release for his show tomorrow at Hugh's Room says it's his first gig here in a dozen years.

"It seems more like 20," Elliott says. "The last time I saw Gordon Lightfoot he was chubby and he didn't have a moustache."

Elliott has heard all about Lightfoot's recent ill health and is pleased to learn that his old friend is booked to play Massey Hall again in May. Just when he seems on the point of regaling the listener with a choice anecdote about Lightfoot, Elliott's attention is distracted.

"Excuse me," he says, "my pardner just came back in. I think he went out for a smoke or something. You want to talk to a real cowboy? His name is Mike Beck. He plays guitar, too.

"I'm talking to a Toronto newspaper," he continues, passing the phone to Beck. "Tell them about Ramblin' Jack."

Beck, 50, a friend for 15 years, has performed numerous times with Elliott, both as an opening act and an accompanist. But he isn't joining Elliott for Roots on the Rails, the movable train trip/concert series that set out from Vancouver on Saturday and arrives in Toronto today. Instead, Beck has a gig with Ian Tyson at the Bluebird in Nashville.

The night before the interview, Beck and Elliott drove down to Oakland to take in a concert by Bob Dylan and Merle Haggard.

"What an odd show that was," Beck says. "I loved Merle. He was so nice to Jack. But Bob ... His whole thing is so weird. Don't get me wrong. I'm his biggest fan. But they had to clear the whole backstage — even Merle's band had to get out of the way — just because Bob's going to walk through the room.

"Come on. These are all professionals, man. Nobody's going to hit on him or do anything stupid to him. What a sad way to live."

If Elliott perceived any slight he isn't letting on. On the contrary, he's still chuffed by the glowing words about him in Chronicles, the Dylan autobiography published last year.

The two hung around a fair bit after Dylan introduced himself to the Greenwich Village folk crowd in the early 1960s, and Elliott tagged along with Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue in 1975. But it was Dylan's initial encounter with Elliott that convinced Dylan of surrendering any thoughts he had of inheriting Guthrie's mantle.

Dylan crowned Elliott "King of the Folksingers" and noted "he was a brilliant entertainer, something most folk musicians didn't bother with."

"I was surprised," Elliott says of the tribute. "I didn't know if he would come out and say things like that about me — or about anybody, for that matter."

In some ways, the differences between Elliott and Dylan are more significant than the similarities. For one thing, Elliott has made his name as an interpreter of songs written by others, while Dylan is arguably the greatest songwriter of the past half-century.

Both, however, share a reticence for having their careers cast in a political light, which seems odd coming from disciples of Guthrie.

"Woody was an extremely political minded person," says Elliott, who toured with Guthrie. "I listened to him rant and rave about politics for about five years.

"I sing some of Woody's songs that are very strong criticisms of the way the country is being run, but I don't get political in the way of the Weavers or Pete Seeger. I don't identify well with the masses or feel like I'm a strident member of the human race."

As for Dylan's persistent disavowal of political artistry, Elliott is of two minds.

"Some of the songs he wrote were a great criticism of the way things are in the country, which has got to come under the heading of political. Like `The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll' or `A Hard Rain's A-gonna Fall,' which is a warning of how we've doomed the earth to a horrible and ever-hastening death.

"But back in the days when we spent more time together, we never talked about politics.

"I don't like to talk politics," Elliott concludes. "I like trucks and boats. And I used to love travelling, but the airports make it very uncomfortable. And the flying, too. The seats are too small. I've got back problems, so it's not as much fun as it used to be when I was a young rambler."

What a hoot! Chubby and no mustache, eh? Early 80s? Damn, missed that "choice anecdote" about Gord. As for Dylan as "arguably the greatest songwriter of the past half-century" I hope Stephen Sondheim doesn't feel slighted, LOL.

What a hoot! Chubby and no mustache, eh? Early 80s? Damn, missed that "choice anecdote" about Gord. As for Dylan as "arguably the greatest songwriter of the past half-century" I hope Stephen Sondheim doesn't feel slighted, LOL.