Sophie
Maslow (1911-2006) and Woody
“SOPHIE’S
BODY LOOKED SO HEALTHY AND SO ACTIVE IT LOOKED LIKE IT WOULD DO
ALMOST ANYTHING SHE TOLD IT TO DO. ALL SHE HAD TO DO WAS NOTIFY
IT.” Woody Guthrie
My mother, Marjorie
Mazia, and Sophie Maslow were both dancers
with the Martha Graham Dance Company in the 1930's
- 50's. It was an important time in modern dance, as Graham and
her troupe were redefining modern dance and how it fit into the
culture. Along with her works like Appalachian Spring
and American Document, Graham was looking to American "roots" art for inspiration; incorporating American writers,
poetry and music into her collaborations.
Sophie Maslow
had formed a small dance company of her own on the side, which Marjorie
Mazia was also working in. Sophie's inspirations, like Grahams,
were leaning towards American "roots" artists and, delving
even deeper, had choreographed what was to become a historic piece
in modern dance history called Folksay. Folksay
brought to life a more authentic American rural life using movements
of jigs, hoe downs, along with the the rhythms of the southern blues
and Appalachia. Included in the soundtrack for Folksay were pieces
from Woody Guthrie's recently released Dust Bowl Ballads.
The dances
were all choreographed to records (78's) and the dancers used these
recordings to rehearse. What happened then has become part of our
family lore - something that we told and retold over the years,
and still do. A story that, with all it's humor and chaos, always
seemed to define much of what fueled, and still fuels, our Guthrie
family life - chaos and humor! My mother would act it out, with
all of us laughing hysterically as she dramatically reenacted the
story:
Sophie had
heard that Woody Guthrie was in town, living with
the Almanac Singers in Greenwich Village, and thought
it would be a great idea to invite him to sing the songs live for
the opening performances of Folksay only a few days away. For support,
she asked my mother to go with her to Guthrie's apartment. The two
dancers walked up the stairs to the top floor of the 6th Avenue
apartment and knocked on the door. My mother, whose favorite song
was Tom Joad, had imagined her Woody Guthrie to
be tall, slim and strong, somewhat Lincolnesque in stature. She
figured anyone who could write such moving ballads about the people,
such as his Tom Joad, must be larger than life. But when Woody opened
the door, there stood instead a slight, 5' 6", 125 lb. man
with a twinkle in his eye. (Years later, my mother said that it
was at that moment when he looked her in the eye that she said to
herself "I'm going to marry that man"). Woody, responding
to these two delightful, pretty dancers, immediately responded,
"Sure". So the deal was done, and rehearsals with the
live musician began.
Woody showed
up the next day with his guitar, sat down and began to play as the
dancers began their moves which had been carefully choreographed
to every beat, note and breath of the record. “I watched their
pretty bodies and wished I was a dancer. I swore to quit whiskey
and tobacco and start out taking physical exercise.” But Woody
(who didn't listen much to his own records) played the song totally
differently, adding new chords, changing beats and even improvising
a few new verses. Unlike highly disciplined and organized dancers,
folksingers are known to veer. Woody would simply state, "If
you’re the same, the weather’s different, and if the
weather is the same, and even you’re the same, you breathe
different and if you breathe the same, you rest or pause different”.
Later he would explain, “if
I want to take a breath between verses, I play a few extra chords.
And if I forget the lines and want to remember them, I play a few
extra chords. And if I want to get up and leave town, I get up and
leave town."
The first rehearsal
was a complete disaster, as Woody could / would not play the song
the same way as he recorded it. Nor could he even play it through
the same way twice. Rushing to get to their places, dancers were
bumping into each other, falling all over each other, and being
thrown up in the air with no one there to catch them on the way
down. My dad was having a great time - and something had to be done
to stop him!
Sophie pleaded
for my mother, who was known for her organizational skills, to go
and try to see what she could do. So Marjorie went with a mission:
to teach Woody Guthrie how to play a song the same way twice.
Like a patient
teacher with a slow, but willing student, my mother worked with
him that night. She created flash cards with numbers and beats and
words written out which Woody would faithfully follow. He played
along, enjoying the company of this pretty dancer, and fascinated
by her ability to organize and direct him. No one else had come
close. They spent the night together... working, talking. And then
the next. And the next. And he performed in Folksay beautifully,
and came in just at the right times, with the right beats, and the
right pauses. And the performances were a complete success, and
Woody Guthrie learned that sometimes being organized had it's points. “I learned a good lesson here
in team work, cooperation, and also in union organization. I saw
why socialism is the only hope for any of us, because I was singing
under the old rules of ‘every man for his self’ and
the dancers was working according to a plan and a hope”.
And he decided to marry his tutor. Sophie Maslow joined Woody and
Marjorie Guthrie at New York City's City Hall, and signed as the
witness to their marriage. And so our family life - humor and chaos
both - was born with this wonderfully talented and smart lady, Sophie
Maslow who knew who should go rehearse the musician, and who should
not.
We are forever
indebted to Sophie, not just for our actual existence, but also
for all the years of laughter we've had telling and retelling this
story. The cast of Folksay is now holding rehearsals in heaven.
And Woody is still singing the same song - differently.
- Nora
Guthrie |
