PLAYBOY: We began this discussion of your movie by comparing film makers to painters. Were you as interested in painting : as in, say, rock music when you were growing up?
DYLAN: Yeah, I’ve always painted. I’ve always held on to that one way or another.
PLAYBOY: Do you feel you use colors in the same way you use notes or chords?
DYLAN: Oh, yeah. There’s much information you could get on the meaning of colors. Every color has a certain mood and feeling. For instance, red is a very vital color. There’re a lot of reds in this movie, a lot-of blues. A lot of cobalt blue.
PLAYBOY: Why cobalt blue?
DYLAN: It’s the color of dissension.
by Jeff Cochran edited by O Society July 14, 2019
Five presidential administrations later than we might have thought, Bob Dylan played The White House on Wednesday, February 10, 2010.
It was a great honor for Dylan, albeit long overdue; a White House gig seemed most likely during the Jimmy Carter Administration (1977-81). After all, Carter mentioned Dylan’s name often in his first presidential campaign. He spoke highly of Dylan’s music. As he began what seemed a long-shot race for the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination, Carter revealed certain things about himself unknown to even Georgians who had closely followed his political career. He liked rock music. He could recite poems by Dylan Thomas. He referred to Bob Dylan as a “friend.”
Succeeding the segregationist Lester Maddox as Georgia’s governor, Jimmy Carter was, by comparison, a progressive. Quite so. In his inaugural address on Jan. 12, 1971, he declared, “the time for racial discrimination is over.” To some this seemed a surprising statement from one who sought endorsements from former Gov. Marvin Griffin and others opposed to the civil rights movement. But Jimmy Carter would long prove to be an intriguing and surprising figure. The people of Georgia had apparently elected a Renaissance man to be their governor.
It’s Jan. 21, 1974, Jimmy Carter and family members are at the Omni, Atlanta’s new basketball and hockey arena, which, with its 16,000 seats, also serves as a major concert venue. Limited by Georgia’s Constitution to just one consecutive term as governor, Carter is spending much of his final year in office planning for an even more prestigious job. As it turns out, his presence at the Omni to see Bob Dylan and The Band will serve as a point of reference as he sought that more prestigious position, president of the United States.
The people at the Omni that night gave more thought to Bob Dylan’s return to the concert stage than they did to any of Carter’s ambitions. Dylan and The Band showed why immediately, opening (and encoring) with an energetic “Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine).” The pacing of the concert was nearly perfect. From loud to soft, from brash to gentle, Dylan and The Band played such favorites as “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” “Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat,” and “Blowin’ In The Wind.” Each phase of Dylan’s career was represented.
Dylan would also step away, allowing The Band a share of the spotlight, as they performed “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” “Stage Fright,” and others. It was, for everyone, a greatest hits kind of evening, particularly as Dylan and The Band closed with “Like A Rolling Stone.” The lights went up, the Omni was rocking, and even after the energetic encore, it seemed way too early to head home.
Home was where the paying customers went, but Dylan, The Band, promoter Bill Graham and other friends piled in cars and took the eight mile ride to the Governor’s Mansion, in Atlanta’s Buckhead neighborhood. An invitation by Gov. Carter had been extended a month earlier for a post-concert party. Scrambled eggs, grits, country ham, fresh veggies with cheese sauce, along with beer and wine, were served. According to Paul West, in his Rolling Stone article, dated 2/28/74, Dylan opted for veggies and orange juice as the governor took him on a tour of the mansion, pointing out antiques and chatting quietly.
Carter referred to Dylan as “painfully timid.” West went on to report Carter indicated Dylan “never initiated a conversation but he’ll answer a question if you ask him.”
From there, at least during a crucial political period, Carter did a lot of talking. He had to convince people he was the preferred candidate for President of the United States. Friends with money help, but friends who are living legends such as Bob Dylan help even more, just by skillfully dropping their names.
In his autobiography penned for the campaign, Why Not The Best, Carter informs readers of his roles, his accomplishments and interests: “I am a Southerner and an American. I am a farmer, an engineer, a father and a husband, a Christian, a politician, and a former governor, a planner, a businessman, a nuclear physicist, a naval officer, a canoeist, and among other things, a lover of Bob Dylan’s songs and Dylan Thomas’s poetry.”
Journalists, even those of the gonzo variety like Hunter S. Thompson, found themselves more than just curious about Jimmy Carter. On May 1, 1974, Carter gave a Law Day speech that added gravitas to his reputation while gaining the respect of Thompson and others. Carter invoked Dylan while speaking of class barriers in America. He spoke of his days as a child in depression era Georgia: “I grew up a landowner’s son. But I don’t think I ever realized the proper interrelationship between the landowner and those who worked on the farm until I heard Dylan’s record, ‘I Ain’t Gonna Work On Maggie’s Farm No More.’ ”
Scrubbing The Floor, Looking For Meaning . . . . There are various interpretations at what Dylan is getting at in “Maggie’s Farm.” Is the protagonist oppressed or just bored with his menial work?
Well, I wake up in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin’ me insane.
It’s a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more.
John Hinchey thoughtfully reviews the poetry of Dylan’s songs from the ’60s in his 2002 book, Like A Complete Unknown. He enjoys “Maggie’s Farm,” noting it to be Dylan’s second genuine rock and roll song*, but he does not view it as a serious outcry against imperial employers. He notes Dylan is protesting the “sing while you slave” ethic but “reduces his rebel stance to antic capering.”
Contacted recently, Hinchey says he has since reconsidered and now believes “antic capering is not something to object to,” going on to say “the whole point of the song is that the world needs a lot more antic capering and a lot less slaving away.” He says, “Dylan’s complaining about being made to scrub the floor still strikes me as annoyingly snobbish,” but he realizes “the song does paint the portrait of an unjust society; the aspect Carter would have responded to.”
The unjust society perspective is thoroughly covered in studies of Dylan’s work. Tim Riley in Hard Rain refers to “Maggie’s Farm” as the counterculture’s war cry. In No Direction Home, The Life and Music of Bob Dylan, Robert Shelton calls “Maggie’s Farm” an “anti-work song” that contains a “strong condemnation of all meaningless labor.” He goes on to remark that Dylan “sounds a declaration of independence against conformity.”
Clinton Heylin, with three Dylan books to his credit, writes about “Maggie’s Farm” in Revolution In The Air, The Songs Of Bob Dylan, 1957-1973, published in 2009. Heylin calls the “lady’s farm a place where exploitation is rife, rebellion is imminent and escape to the city a dream.”
Still the exploitation and rebellion are mixed with a worker whose attitude toward physical work is likely dubious. The worker may realize he’ll end up in a comfy job soon enough. He’s as much observer as he is worker. Complacently, Dylan’s protagonist shrugs off the “sing while you slave” ethic by saying, “I just get bored.”
Reporters and historians considered Carter’s embrace of “Maggie’s Farm” quite seriously. In her 1980 book, Jimmy Carter, In Search of the Great White House, Betty Glad says the song reflects “the burning resentment of poor whites toward the middle class.” Perhaps in highlighting the song, Carter could have been sending a message to some voters that he “might really be a closet radical interested in redistribution of wealth.”
Any inkling of Carter redistributing the wealth did not register with the left wing of the Democratic Party. Those left-of-center were slow to embrace Carter anyway, and toward the end of the primary season, an Anyone-But-Carter effort began. Liberal candidates Frank Church and Jerry Brown entered the fray. But despite topping Carter in some Western states, they succeeded only in slowing Carter’s amazing drive to the presidential nomination.
Carter’s campaign was hot when it mattered most. His big victories in Pennsylvania, Texas, North Carolina, Florida and other states made it clear the nomination would be his. Party regulars still didn’t know what to make of Jimmy Carter, but they got behind him and worked for his victory against President Gerald Ford in November. Fears of disgruntled American workers rising up, singing “Maggie’s Farm” eased. Carter was a centrist candidate, even if he recited poetry and called Bob Dylan his friend.
PLAYBOY: Considering that some of your recent songs have been about love and romance, what do you feel about the tendency some people used to have of dividing your work into periods? Did you ever feel it was fair to divide your work, for example, into a political period and a nonpolitical period?
DYLAN: Those people disregarded the ultimate fact that I am a songwriter. I can’t help what other people do with my songs, what they make of them.
PLAYBOY: But you were more involved politically at one time. You were supposed to have written Chimes of Freedom in the back seat of a car while you were visiting some SNCC people in the South.
DYLAN: That is all we did in those days. Writing in the back seats of cars and writing songs on street corners or on porch swings. Seeking out the explosive areas of life.
PLAYBOY: One of which was politics?
DYLAN: Politics was always one because there were people who were trying to change things. They were involved in the political game because that is how they had to change things. But I have always considered politics just part of the illusion. I don’t get involved much in politics. I don’t know what the system runs on. For instance, there are people who have definite ideas or who studied all the systems of government. A lot of those people with college-educational backgrounds tended to come in and use up everybody for whatever purposes they had in mind. And, of course, they used music, because music was accessible and we would have done that stuff and written those songs and sung them whether there was any politics or not. I never did renounce a role in politics, because I never played one in politics. It would be comical for me to think that I played a role. Gurdjieff thinks it’s best to work out your mobility daily.
PLAYBOY: So you did have a lot of “on the road” experiences?
DYLAN: I still do.
PLAYBOY: Driving around?
DYLAN: I am. interested in all aspects of life. Revelations and realizations. Lucid thought that can be translated into songs, analogies, new information. I am better at it now. Not really written yet anything to make me stop writing. Like, I haven’t come to the place that Rimbaud came to when he decided to stop writing and run guns in Africa.
PLAYBOY: Jimmy Carter has said that listening to your songs, he learned to see in a new way the relationship between landlord and tenant, farmer and sharecropper and things like that. He also said that you were his friend. What do you think of all that?
DYLAN: I am his friend.
PLAYBOY: A personal friend?
DYLAN: I know him personally.
PLAYBOY: Do you like him?
DYLAN: Yeah, I think his heart’s in the right place.
PLAYBOY: How would you describe that place?
DYLAN: The place of destiny. You know, I hope the magazine won’t take all this stuff and edit-like, Carter’s heart’s in the right place of destiny, because it’s going to really sound
PLAYBOY: No, it would lose the sense of conversation. The magazine’s pretty good about that.
DYLAN: Carter has his heart in the right place. He has a sense of who he is. That’s what I felt, anyway, when I met him.
PLAYBOY: Have you met him many times?
DYLAN: Only once.
PLAYBOY: Stayed at his house?
DYLAN: No. But anybody who’s a governor or a Senate leader or in a position of authority who finds time to invite a folkrock singer and his band out to his place has got to have . . . a sense of humor . . . and a feeling of the pulse of the people. Why does he have to do it? Most people in those kinds of positions can’t relate at all to people in the music field unless it’s for some selfish purpose.
PLAYBOY: Did you talk about music or politics?
DYLAN: Music. Very little politics. The conversation was kept in pretty general areas.
PLAYBOY: Does he have any favorite Dylan songs?
DYLAN: I didn’t ask him if he had any favorite Dylan songs. He didn’t say that he did. I think he liked Ballad of a Thin Man, really.
PLAYBOY: Did you think that Carter might have been using you by inviting you there?
DYLAN: No, I believe that he was a decent, untainted man and he just wanted to check me out. Actually, as Presidents go, I liked Truman.
DYLAN: I just liked the way he acted and things he said and who he said them to. He had a common sense about him, which is rare for a President. Maybe in the old days it wasn’t so rare, but nowadays it’s rare. He had a common quality. You felt like you could talk to him.
PLAYBOY: You obviously feel you can talk to President Carter.
DYLAN: You do feel like you can talk to him, but the guy is so busy and overworked you feel more like, well, maybe you’d just leave him alone, you know. And he’s dealing with such complicated matters and issues that people are a little divided and we weren’t divided in Truman’s time.
PLAYBOY: Is there anything you’re angry about? Is there anything that would make you go up to Carter and say, “Look, you fucker, do this!”?
DYLAN: Right. [Pause] He’s probably caught up in the system like everybody else.
PLAYBOY: Including you?
DYLAN: I’m a part of the system. I have to deal with the system. The minute you pay taxes, you’re part of the system.
In this March ’78 Playboy interview, Dylan was asked by Ron Rosenbaum what he thought of Carter claiming to be his friend. Dylan’s response was splendid. “I am his friend,” he answered, saying he thought “Carter’s heart was in the right place.” When asked if he felt Carter was using him by inviting him to the Governor’s Mansion that night, he replied, “No, I believe that he was a decent, untainted man and he just wanted to check me out.” Dylan then went on to describe the qualities he admired in Harry Truman, saying, “He had a common sense about him, which is rare for a president.”
Jimmy Carter wanted to check him out, but there would be no Dylan appearances at the Carter White House. Who knows why? Scheduling conflicts? The pressure of petty politics? A failure of the administration’s supposedly incompetent staff to follow up on something so obvious? The promise of “a new spirit” on the day Carter became president had faded. During his last year in office, he dealt with the Iranian hostage crisis, a failing economy and an election battle that made his ’76 campaign seem a breeze. And Carter, having disappointed millions of his supporters, returned to Georgia four years earlier than he planned.
Carter has kept up with Dylan since leaving The White House. He and his wife, Rosalynn Carter, have attended at least two Dylan concerts in Atlanta, including show number 30 of the “Never-Ending Tour” in July of ’88. That was a hard-rocking concert with dazzling performances by Dylan’s lead guitarist, G.E. Smith. The Carters were seated near the front. Jimmy Carter has stated a preference for the pre-electric Dylan recordings; but despite the volume and high energy, a Renaissance man could only love the show. It was, well, electrifying.