text:
Remembering Tom Hobson
Photo from Quah
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Last updated 1/02/2012
New CD available; Sad, Sad Daddy
"Thoughts on Tom" by Jorma Kaukonen!
"Sure, I remember Tom" by Steve Mann!
"The Coffee Gallery on Grant Ave." by Mike Wilhelm!
"I met Tom early in Santa Rosa..." by Dan Hicks
Dear Fingerpickers,
Flatpickers, Fans, Friends and
Family of Tom Hobson, I hope you enjoy this web-scrapbook/eulogy for Tom as much as I am enjoying putting it together. Tom earned his place in history and certainly deserves a book on his life, don't know if that will ever happen so these web pages represent my best efforts to capture his legacy in a forum that hopes to comfort those who knew him well and paint a picture of his life for those who want to know more about the legendary Tom Hobson. Tom was an under-recorded artist considering his vast repertoire of over 500 songs and only two albums that were ever released. (Special thanks to Jorma Kaukonen for re-issuing Quah! with 2 more tracks of Tom!) When I was performing with Tom in SF we had no money to rent studio time. I had a cheap mono cassette recorder and when I could afford to buy tape I recorded as much as I could. Unfortunately most of what I recorded had so much crowd noise the tapes are virtually useless. I hope you are enjoying the embedded audio in this page while you read these submissions. I thought these two songs would be appropriate; "Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone" and "I'm Going to Live the Life I Sing About Down In My Soul." I am still going through the old tapes looking for recordings that are worthy of salvaging and I have come across one gem in that pile of sonic rubble; an interview with Tom by Joel Sachs on KPFA shortly after his solo album was released. There is no doubt this is one of the best recordings of Tom that exists. Running time is 45 minutes and includes an interesting interview and 10 songs with commentaries by Tom. You can listen to the entire interview here. If you would like a special edition copy of this on CD I'm only asking $7.50 plus $2.50 s&h. You can use PayPal or email me if you want to mail a check or money order. Please check back often because the submissions are still coming in and more audio will be added as time goes on. My unlimited thanks to all who have contributed to the remembrance of Tom's legacy. in love and light, Eric Van der Wyk Post Script; OK, I found another tape worth remastering. Using advanced carbon dating techniques, I have traced this one back to 1981 when a SF radio station called KPOO asked Tom to come into the studio and record some songs of "Old San Francisco" they had dug up to use as a soundtrack for a radio program on that subject. The songs are mainly political satire. They were all new to us but Tom faithfully deciphered them. I don't have the air tape of the actual radio program but I have a tape of all the songs. There are 9 tunes altogether. Tom sings/plays guitar, Barbara plays mandolin and does a talking blues on "The Curse" and I play banjo except for "The Curse" where I'm playing guitar. The last track is a real gem, it's Tom's original composition "California," his tribute to his home state. You can listen to all 9 tracks here. You can also purchase a special edition CD of that session for $7.50 plus $2.50 s&h with PayPal or email me to pay by check or money order or for combined shipping with any available CDs. To see all Tom Hobson CDs available to date, please click here. Thanks for enjoying these trips down memory lane. Eric |
I started
taking banjo lessons with Tom in 1966 when I was 10 years old. For the
next several years I enjoyed spending a half hour every Saturday morning
under his musical direction. It wasn't just a music lesson however; it was
also a time to absorb the feelings, attitudes and stories of a man
dedicated to the art of playing music. His stories kept me on the edge of
my seat and always left me wanting more. That half hour flew by and I
could hardly wait until next Saturday to enjoy his instruction and story
telling again. He was certainly the hippest person I ever knew and was more knowledgeable than most you might meet in a lifetime. Having read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica from A to Z and every other book under the sun he could talk with anyone on any subject with authority. His musical instruction gave me a solid sense of technique that served me very well years later as a professional banjo player, but he also taught the history behind the music, truly a rounded approach to teaching. Tom was extremely generous for a man who never had any money. He knew how to buy books and records cheaply and was quick to share. When he learned of my interest in magic he gave me an old book of magic acts of the 19th century. When I became interested in science fiction, he sent me home with a grocery bag full of sci fi books. One day he gave me the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini which turned out to be one of the most interesting books I've ever read! He would also lend me records to make tape copies of and on special occasions he would pull out a 78 and wind up the old Victrola. Eventually, my family moved from San Francisco to Sacramento and I didn't see Tom for several years. When I returned to San Francisco in 1977 he was one of the first people I looked up. He was playing at "The Odyssey" in Berkeley and let me sit in with him. After that he invited me to join his band and I played in Ragged but Right for the next 5 years. I moved into the flat next door and shared a lifestyle of total immersion into music. We lived on next to nothing but our rent was dirt cheap in those days. Many of our gigs were for food and tips. Tom had an adoring following. Every place we played there were true blue fans that loved Tom and would always come back for more. Tom did his best to keep it interesting for us all by having a huge repertoire of songs. He had a card file with over 500 songs in it and over the years would gradually rotate through his material. One day he informed me that I had played all 500 songs and I realized what an education and experience I had been blessed with! Tom was like a second father figure to me. It still hurts that he left us so soon and with his legacy so unfairly unknown. Tom truly enriched my life in many ways and I am eternally grateful. I dedicate this web page to Tom's legacy so that future fans can get a glimpse of the wonderful man and musician that he was and what he meant to those that knew him. In loving memory, Eric Van der Wyk |
Tom Hobson & Jorma
Please visit
Jorma's websites |
Some thoughts on Tom I met Tom Hobson in 1962. I was twenty one and he a couple of years older than I with a wife and children. As we get older, those couple of years mean nothing, but when you are young, they mean the world. Tom and his wife Mickey offered a safe haven in their kitchen for young musicians to play, learn and talk. Tom was a fine picker, singer and songwriter... but there was so much more to him. The discussions... wow! In all the years I knew Tom, through several relationships and many apartments, the walls of his place were always filled with bookshelves and the shelves filled with books. Tom's head was filled with the contents of these books. He remembered everything! His music was adventuresome, his songs alternately droll and moving. He was one of a kind. Life didn't always deal him a winning hand, but he knew how to play the cards. I last saw him in the eighties at the old Lone Star downtown in New York City. We did a weekend there together. He had moved to Atlanta and was working as a rigger or something like that. Our lives had moved on, but we still had the music in common. He still played the old Gibson Country & Western with the warped neck that only he could play in tune. We used to joke that he kept it that way so he would never have to lend out his guitar. I never saw him again after he returned to Atlanta. The orbits of our lives never again intersected and I regret that. I still think of those times when we were young back in the Sixties. He opened many doors for me. There was only one Tom Hobson and I miss him today! Jorma |
I met Tom Hobson early in Santa Rosa,
in kind of a "bohemian" scene going on there. I was maybe 20 and
trying to learn folk guitar, while also playing jazz drums. The Apex
Bookstore was in downtown Santa Rosa and was the gathering spot for us "subterranian"
types. I don't remember Tom much there, but when he moved to the City
I followed soon, enrolling at San Francisco State College and gravitating
toward North Beach. When he lived on Pine Street I would visit him and we shared our appreciation for old-time acoustic music. An un-official lesson from Tom brought me the basic knowledge of guitar finger picking. He showed me the actual steady-thumb-syncopated-finger-style pattern from which I later made seven million dollars! Another memory: smokin' a "J" and reading a "Tin-Tin" book he had laying around, watching the characters float from panel to panel. This Tom was a bad influence! Mr. Hobson, a dissipated looking fellow, might have been the first up-close & personal beatnik I ever knew, but I sure admired him and still do. Dan Hicks, Mill Valley 2008 |
"A real nice San Francisco guitar player named Tom Hobson
that nobody knows about, he was one of those guys that was sort of lost in
the folk shuffle, but he's still around and he's still great." from Jerry Garcia's 1972 interview. Read the whole thing here. |
Tom and I lived around the corner from each other in the Castro and I spent a lot of time hanging out with him in the early 70s. He taught me how to finger-pick the Ray Bolger song "Once in Love with Amy" which of course pleased my wife Amy no end. We were both into scrounging through Salvation Army record bins for oddball 78s. He had an entire wall of them, and walls of books, and an encyclopedic knowledge of all kinds of arcane subjects. You don't run across many people in life who are as interesting as Tom Hobson. He was a good friend. Mylos Sonka | |
Sure, i remember Tom Hobson. He knew a lot of good songs. He was the first person I heard sing "Fenario" and "I Know You Rider." In fact I learned "I know you Rider from him. Tom sang a song called "Blue Prelude" that I never heard anyone else sing except Hoyt Axton. He had a real clear voice, that was never captured on record as well as it sounded live. I first heard him at the Coffee Gallery in San Francisco. He lived on Post Street. He played a big Country Western southern Jumbo Gibson SJ. Funny story: I once needed a shave real badly before a gig and did not have a place to stay at the time, so Tom let me come over and shave at his place on Post Street. The only problem was that in his really large sized bathroom, the sink was about eight feet from the mirror. In order tro shave, I had to suds up at the sink, then do a sideways grapevine step to the left, (trying not to drip), for eight feet and only then could I see my face in the mirror to shave. It took a long time, but I really appreciated his hospitality. Steve Mann |
Mike Wilhelm performing
I first met Tom Hobson
at the Coffee Gallery on Grant Ave. in San Francisco's North Beach around
1961. I had ridden my motorcycle up from L.A. and walked into the Gallery
and ordered a draft beer and was very surprised to be served without being
carded (I was a couple of years shy of 21). He was playing that evening
and I was knocked out both by his skill and the variety of his repertoire.
I spoke with him after his set and found him very approachable and ready
to talk about most anything. I was somewhat in awe since at the time I was
struggling to fingerpick the blues I was learning from Brownie McGhee. I
took him to be an "old guy" though at the time he was actually in his
early twenties. He had a wizened appearance and a body of knowledge that
made him seem much older than he really was and he spoke in the old time
western accent that used to be common in rural California...I took him to
be an old cowboy. I rode back down to L.A. that very night since I had to
report back to my Naval Air Squadron.
Some months after I got
off active duty service in 1963 I returned to the San Francisco Bay Area
and wound up burning up flatpicks by the dozen playing surf guitar 4
nights a week in the house band at the Monkey Inn in Berkeley but my heart
was really in fingerpicking blues and folk stuff and I found myself going
over to North Beach on my off nights and playing anywhere there was a mike
open and so became reacquainted with Tom and his music. I was surprised to
find out that he knew Steve Mann and other musicians I knew from the L.A.
scene. Of course both Steve and Tom had this uncanny ability to connect
with musicians of importance, no matter how obscure, so in hindsight it's
really not surprising that they were acquainted.
A few years later, when
I was in the Charlatans, I moved to Eureka Valley (now known as "the
Castro") and started hanging out quite a bit at Tom's flat which was a few
doors away. He was one who could hold forth on most any subject and we
probably spent more time shooting the breeze than playing music though
much of that verbal discharge was on the subject of (what else!) music.
He had very strong opinions on most subjects, most of which I
accepted...if I disagreed he would argue point and counterpoint until I
conceded, sometimes from sheer mental exhaustion! Looking back with the
wisdom of years I've got to admit that he was ragged but 99.99% right. I
remember how impressed I was with how well he was raising his children and
just how together he had his whole scene unlike nearly every other
musician I knew including myself. Tom had some interesting guitars; some
that come to mind are his Gibson acoustic, a Les Paul Recording Model and
a Harmony thin body electric that was filled with foam to squelch
In the late '70s, I was
playing in Flamin' Groovies and living around the corner from the Sacred
Grounds Coffeehouse (where I was to meet my future wife, Ana Maria) on
Hayes St. across the Panhandle from the Haight-Ashbury and reconnected
with Tom who frequently played the Grounds with Ragged But Right which
included his wife Barbara on vocals and mandolin, webmaster Eric Van der
Wyk and his brother Kilo on banjo and upright bass, respectively. He had
a bunch of notebooks with lyrics and chords to hundreds of songs and could
and would play any request no matter how ancient or obscure. I think the
fakebooks were really for the band...Tom could play nearly any song you
could name off the top of his head...absolutely amazing! During this
period Tom did a very wonderful duet performance with the then 18-year-old
Canadian guitar prodigy Colin Linden who had just completed a tour in Leon
Redbone's band and was hanging in Frisco for a few days before heading
home to Toronto. Though they had just met for the first time they played
as if they'd been together for years complete with between-song banter for
an absolutely seamless performance. It was clear they were enjoying each
other immensely and I'm glad I managed record some of this show on
cassette...every now and then I listen to the tape and it just blows me
away. I was priveleged to sit in for a few numbers and had an absolute
ball both as a player and an audience member.
Tom's health was never
very good, I remember that he went to the hospital more than once for
collapsed lungs. He made light of these occurrences saying he'd just had
his lungs retreaded and was good for another 20,000 miles. I was sorry to
hear that he'd moved clear across the country and I'd lost track of him.
When I heard that he'd died I can't say that I was surprised knowing the
state of his health but I was saddened nonetheless. He did manage to pack
a lot of living into a very few years and everyone that knew him speaks
highly of him...would that we all could live our lives that well! Though
the public at large has never heard of him the list of musicians famous
and obscure that he influenced and the countless people whose lives he
enriched is a legacy that few if any of us can hope to equal...a true
musical hero.
Mike Wilhelm
Eric Good to hear from you. I was 28 in 1966.. Tommy was only 25 days older than I. I left San Francisco (temporarily I thought) went to Chicago for awhile, wound up married with kids and stayed in Chicago for years. They were pretty good music years there. Steve Goodman was still alive. John Prine was around, as was Paul Butterfield and tons of blues guys (Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters, Sonny and Brownie et al). Good scene musically but nothing compared with San Francisco in the good old days. The best thing about being as old as I am is that I got to hear and meet many of the old timers in person; Mississippi John Hurt, Mance Lipscomb, Jesse Fuller, Mississippi Fred MacDowell, Papa John Creech. Man do I love those old blues guys. Tom, Ingrid Fowler and I were the first teachers at Marina Music (in '64 I think). And then a bunch of great people started coming in: Hugh Harris, Jim Wittes, Mike King, Erik Frandzen, Fred Barnes, Elmer Snowden. And of course just about every great picker playing then would at least stop by for awhile. Jorma, Garcia etc etc etc. Damn it was fine! In those days I was also working as a photographer and illustrator. I used to have photos of just about everyone, but a particularly malevolent little shit stole most of them. I thought you might be interested in seeing a few so they're attached. SF1: A picker and
artist I grew up with (in Duncan, Oklahoma). His |
I was one of Tom's guitar students in San
Francisco in 1973. It was challenging to maneuver my guitar up the stairs
into his apartment because the walls were so densely lined with books, all
of which he loved to discuss and to loan out. After I moved to Oregon, in
1976, I used to visit him when I was in the City. He and Barbara were
playing old-timey music in bars for tips and free beer. Sometimes they'd
come home with hundreds of dollars, get all their instruments out of pawn
and get the kids new shoes, other times not. Since they didn't have a car,
they would usually invite some of the lucky patrons to give them a ride home
when the bar closed, and then sit up the rest of the night talking and
playing music. Those are some wonderful memories. I'll always be sorry
I lost touch with him; he was one of a kind. --Jain Elliot photo courtesy of Jain Elliot |
Hi Eric, |
I first met Tom Hobson in 1987, in Atlanta. We worked together as riggers
& decorators for most of the Atlanta-area conventions & trade shows,
usually at the Georgia World Congress Center on International blvd.Tom was
a pleasure to work with, because not only was he always energetic - but
nothing seemed to ever dampen his spirit. Warm & resilient are the words
that come to mind as i recall his nature. He was also extremely
knowledgeable about almost anything. I was only 18 at the time & he was
around 50 , so it is safe to say that i always looked up to Tom.
I was a deadhead & LSD enthusuast, and Tom was always blowing my mind with
memories of his SF days & his acquaintances with musicians. He told me
about Jorma & the album they made called Quah, and spoke much of his
friendship with Jorma & also that of Phil Lesh.
I lived on the edge of Little Five Points & Inman Park, and Tom lived just
west of me in Cabbage Town. We would often take the Marta train home
together, since we got off at the same stop.
One evening Tom was playing at Little Five Points Pub... it was a
Wednesday night, which was always acoustic & always free. Back then,
Indigo Girls, Caroline Aiken, Kristen Hall, Wendy Bucklew & Michelle
Malone would often share the billing. This had to be around late 1988 .Tom
was a pleasure to watch & listen to... and I was always reminded of Pete
Seeger when i would listen to Tom play. Unfortunately, this turned out to
be the last night i ever got to hear Tom play. I left Atlanta in the
spring of 1989 & continued to chase after Grateful Dead on a more
full-time basis.
Tom was a great person, and had alot to share. I loved listening to him
talk while we worked... just relating stories & anecdotes. Looking back,
my only regret is that I didn't spend more time with him, and that i never
accepted his offer of guitar lessons ( i still dont know how to play ).
I returned to Atlanta for the Grateful Dead's run at The Omni in March of
1992. On the day of the 1st show, i ran into an old co-worker who worked
with Tom & i & he told me that Tom had died of an anuerysm. It was a truly
sad moment, and for just a minute or so, i felt an incredible sense of
loss. Not as much on a personal level, but that the human race had just
lost a wonderful being.
On the last night of the Dead's run at the Omni that year, I remember
Garcia closing with a Broke-down Palace that was particularly beautiful. I
recall thinking of Tom during that & letting go of some tears as I
respectfully bid him farewell during that poignant performance.
Tom and I were married in the sixties, we had two
sons Terry and Greg who are now in their forties. It was a wild time lots of
talented people around. We met in Santa Rosa and shortly moved to San
Francisco and lived at 2111 Pine St.with a crowd of other artists and
musicians. We eventually divorced and married other people but we always
stayed in touch and were fond of each other. He died much too soon, but he
never really looked after himself, a problem with geniuses. and he was a
genius. I know he is enjoying this website. Thanks Eric for making it
possible. Mickie
Pancoast |
Dear Eric,
I would like to add my thoughts and photos about my cousin, Tom, actually, I called him Tommy. He and I grew up together. His father put Tom and his brother, Bob, into St. Vincent's School for Boys in San Rafael when Bob was in first grade and Tom in third grade. My mother was Tom's father's sister and my parents would take the boys during all the school holidays until they left that school in the 8th grade. Tom went to live with his dad and Bob chose to come live with us during their high school years. For years, I wondered what happened to Tom so I'm very happy to read about him from his friends. I have attached some photos to my text. Thank you for this memorial on Tom. Tom was my cousin, although he and his brother, Bob, were more like brothers to me. They both spent their summer vacations and holidays from school with my parents. We lived in the country and I had no one to play with except my dog and horse, so I was always excited when they came to stay for the summer or Christmas time. Even as a child, Tom was unusual, and of course being different, his brother and I used to tease him a lot. Tom devoured books and I mean that literally, you could always tell if Tom had read a book as while he read he would tear off a corner of the page he was reading and chew on it. I still have several of those dog-eared books that he read. He also loved music, had a beautiful voice and sang in the choir at their school and when he was older he bought records to listen to over and over, his favorite at the time being Johnny Ray. My last contact with Tom was about 1964 when he, his wife and two young boys came to my sisters in San Lorenzo for Thanksgiving, they were living on Bush Street in San Francisco at the time. I have spent the last 30 years trying to locate him, I even called a person in San Francisco named Hobson hoping it was his family, the guy must have thought I was crazy. I really appreciate Tom's friends for giving me a peek into his adult life and it is nice to know he was so loved. Hello, I too am a cousin of Tom's, His father was my uncle and I used to baby-sit the boys when they were little tikes. They were such cute boys and I always felt sad that their life growing up was so hard for them. Tom was always a bookworm and I am so happy to know that he found happiness in his life through his music. I last saw Tom and his wife and two children at my house in San Lorenzo where they came for Thanksgiving dinner. The children had never been in a car before and they were a bit frightened of the ride across the bridge. All of us in the family have wondered what happened to him and thought about him a lot. We are nowhappy to know of his life and how much he contributed to the world of music. Allene Gordon Saunders |
Dear Tom.... This is more or less a letter of apology to you, and our friends Eric and Matt...I've been trying to write it ever since I first saw this wonderful site....Matt asked me to contribute a few words about you early on.....and I think that was the problem...I knew so little about you....I knew you always came to hear Thumbs play...we knew that you'd had a big record when you lived in San Francisco, but we hadn't ever heard it...didn't know the genre...didn't know you played guitar...I knew you were always interesting to talk to, but didn't have a clue how interesting you were....you and I were once visiting about good writers....we agreed on almost everyone from Johnny Mercer to Mickey Newberry, Chris Kristopherson...Roger Miller came up, and I thought boy, I know a great writer that Tom won't know about..I'd only known one other person in this country (Gene Lees) that knew about him, so I mentioned Jake Thackery, an English writer and singer....well Tom, you said, "oh yeah...I've got a couple of his albums"....I ended up borrowing one and never got it back to you....I'm sorry about that...I still have it.... As I said before, Thumbs had no idea you played....he would have enjoyed playing with you so much...all those songs you knew...all those chords you played..he always had so much trouble finding players who knew many of the songs or could have played them...you did... but it wasn't until after Thumbs died that I heard you play...it was some kind of festival in Little Five Points...Kathy needed a ride and I wandered over to that cafe that sat across the street from The Point and there you were...I don't remember if you even had other players....I was just in shock, almost pain...you were just incredible..all those nice great big round chords .. I was so sad that Thumbs never got to hear you...I still am.... After Thumbs died, I just kind of 'didn't get around much anymore' so we didn't see each other often....but I did see you once on the Martin, came up and sat beside you...I said I still had Jakes album and you said, "don't worry about, we have lots of time".....but we didn't.....I thought you looked even thinner than usual, and not well...I asked you about it and you said you were just getting off a 24 hour gig, and you were just tired..and then your stop came up and we said good bye.... it was a last good bye ....About two weeks later I got the sad news you were gone... I'm sad to this day...sad we never knew you better, sad you were so modest and humble that we saw you in the audience instead of on the stage...sad I still have your album...well, just sad I didn't get to tell you all these in person.....but maybe, if things are as they are sposed' to be, you and Thumbs and a bunch of other good players are gigging where there is space and time and beauty, and nobody telling you to 'turn it down'.. That is about it.....everybody here misses you in more ways than you know..... Love Virginia Carllile |
Wow, where do you begin when
remembering Tom Hobson? From the beginning, I guess. I came to meet Tom
after seeing a flyer posted in Little Five Points, Atlanta. It was for music
lessons by Tom Hobson, San Francisco performing and recording artist.
Teaching guitar, banjo, mandolin, and autoharp. That sounded interesting to
me so I called the number and soon went to his place in Cabbage Town over on
the other side of the tracks. A skinny man with thick glasses, a ponytail to
his waist and worn clothes came to the door and said "come on in man."
Saying you can't read a book by its cover, would be a big understatement in
Tom's case. It soon became apparent that this rather tattered looking man
was very well read, articulate, uniquely interesting and had a lot to say! I started taking lessons from him and he taught me plenty. I only wish my level of musical understanding was higher at the time so I could have grasped more of what he was teaching. He knew more about chords than anyone I'd met at that time and would give all kinds of variations and ways to get from one place to another. Every lesson was also a music history lesson as he told where songs came from, how different styles developed and sometimes maybe even who was messin' with Big Johns woman in 1928 when he wrote a particular song! I also came to realize I was getting a lesson in life as well. Tom was pretty new in town and didn't know a lot of people yet. My first wife made a sudden departure about that time and we started hanging out a lot playing music and drinking beer at my apartment. The more I got to know him the more I realized what an amazing person he was. He read three or four books, at least, every week and could carry on a conversation about anything. He would read anything but had a certain affection for science and science fiction. But the main thing was that this man of little means was so full of life and lived it often with the enthusiasm of a little kid getting his first bike. He was gentle in nature and to me seemed to be really tuned in. He appreciated life in all forms. He would literally not hurt a fly. He would use the capture and release method just putting it outdoors where it belonged! Now this is not to say that he didn't have very strong opinions. It was a losing battle having a debate with Tom. The damn thing was that even if you were sure you were right, he'd spew out so many other "facts" that you couldn't counter or disprove, that he was left with the last word. I learned just to nod lots of times. The poor souls that were serious about resolving these kinds of discussions with Tom are still shaking their heads. Anyway, being at this point a single man I put most of my free time into writing and playing music and began to meet a lot of musicians. It was a very eclectic group with everybody from folkies as long time Woody Guthrie pal Ernie, to Dead Heads, to rockers, jazzers etc. I started making the rounds with Tom as did his friend Peter a violinist/fiddler who knew Tom from Cabbage Town. Everybody took to Tom and Tom hardly met anyone he didn't like. So it was like that. Many jam sessions covering the spectrum. All the good musicians appreciated Tom. He was a great fingerpicker (note: even though Tom would sometimes go for weeks and weeks without playing guitar his finger nails were ALWAYS precisely long and shaped on his right hand, ready to fire) and when he sang the old songs you really felt like you had passed through a time machine. He didn't just imitate, he was the real deal. Although I couldn't absorb everything I would have like to from Tom's playing, I would like to think that I picked up on his energy and feeling. When you sing, sing! Play with feeling and syncopation. Make the song come to life. Do the songs YOU like. Although Tom came up slam in the middle of the San Fran scene in the '60s, he didn't talk too much about it and certainly didn't name drop. He mentioned he gave Janis Joplin lessons and told her to forget guitar and just sing. He talked about the Airplane some as he really liked and respected Jorma. He talked more about his band Ragged But Right and Eric than the celebrities, but he was right there and if you cared to you could dig stories from him about those times. There are only a few people you meet in life that are truly originals and Tom was one. My life was made richer by knowing him. So simple yet so complex. I saw Tom as a pearl. The pain of his early life started the pearl growing as happens when an oyster has an irritating grain of sand it covers. He was able to direct all this energy in a positive way pouring it into reading and music. The world would a much better place if more people could deal with situations in this way. Like I said there were lessons about life to be learned from him as well. On a closing note I also mentioned that Tom really seemed to be tuned into life. Shortly after I met Tom in the spring of '86, he told me quite frankly and confidently, that he had five years left on this earth. He died in the summer of '91. Although I often tried to peel my way down through Tom's personality, I think there are things about Tom we'll never really understand. Here's to ya Buddy and who knows, maybe we'll see you again! Matt Miller |
New! Video of Tom Hobson performing at the "Freight Room" in Decatur, GA July 24th, 1991 just two months before he passed away. This video is courtesy of Charles Little. I have encoded the encore of the night, two songs; "China Doll" & "Poor White Trash." Lee Spivey-Electric Guitar, Peter Loussier-fiddle, Thomas Minton- bass, Charles Little-banjo
here for broadband Windows Media
If you need either of
these players;
Charles Little for a copy of the
I met Tom around 1990. I used to go
hang out with Peter Loussier who was a fiddle player. One day I was at
Pete's, and there was Tom. At first glance, you could tell he had stories
to tell, thin as a rail, but with a wide-eyed grin that held a snicker of
mischief, and a wealth of knowledge. Tom pulled out this old beat up
guitar, and when he started playing, I was locked in on his guitar
playing. The first thing I noticed were the weird timings, the unusual
chords, finger-picking that was kinda like Merle Travis, and rhythm where
he'd kinda vamp the changes. There was blues, fast bluegrass, folk, jazz,
big band tunes, swing tunes, Western swing tunes, Hawaiin tunes, and some
of the coolest originals that he had written, tunes that are totally
unique. It would blow my mind that he could go from the Carter family, to
Duke Ellington, to Bill Monroe, to Johnny Mercer, to Mississippi John
Hurt, and virtually tranport you back to another time. Every song Tom
chose was like listening to an encyclopedia of musical variety, you
certainly couldn't pigeon-hole him, and he was definitely not just your
average quirky roots performer. I've listened to a wide variety of
different musicians, vocalists, and songwriters, and most would be amazed
at the breadth of Tom's talent, and his voice. When he sang "Blue
Prelude", it was as if Tom was living the tune, and I think he did.
Tom shared a little bit with me
about how tough it was growing up in orphanages, but he was not one to
complain, Tom definitely had that making the best of a bad situation
attitude, and I think the music was a great escape for him because he
could breath life into the blues, he could laugh his way through "I
Wonder Where My Little Hula Girl Has Gone", he could pull out some old
hit, you hadn't heard in years, like "Tumblin' Tumbleweeds", or "Choo Choo
Cha Boogie", or "China Doll", and then he could wow you with one of his
originals. I've always had a penchant for songwriters who explored the
trials, and emotions of living, people like Tom Rush, Gordon Lightfoot,
Steve Earle, John Prine, Steven Brines, Gram Parsons, Hoagy Carmichal, Jim
Croce, etc. Tom wrote the greatest tunes, tunes that had a way of digging
deep into your soul, emotions that went places that many can't express.
Tom also had an awesome sense of humor, and could write the catchiest,
funny tunes, like "Grandma's gone down yonder, Jesus never saved her soul,
she never prayed to God, or heard the holy rollers roll, when she heard
the preacher come striding up the trail, she'd pull out some tar and
feathers, and have Grandpa split a rail". Some of the other lines that
come to mind are fragments from tunes I remember, lines like,
"While sweeping out my attic I found a few old letters there", "I lingered
too long til I fell over you, like a sad old country song that lingers to
the end", "Let me cry, let me sigh when I'm blue, let me go on from this
lonesome town", to an original, which was his favorite, "Pleasure
Garden", where the line reads, "can't one apple be for me" I think Tom
felt disheartened about the music business and that's the biggest loss,
that Tom's gone, and he never got his due or the recognition while he was
Tom was such a unique talent, that
only in passing am I becoming truly aware of how influential he was to so
many others. Tom never talked to me about teaching Janis Joplin guitar,
or meeting Hendrix, or probably untold other experiences he had out in
San Francisco. Tom was just that way, a very humble guy, who liked to
laugh a lot, and philosophize. Col. Bruce Hampton told me they had talked
a lot about the good old days, and I'm sure they swapped some tales. The
only person Tom talked freely about was Jorma, and thanks to that
fortuitous meeting, we have the treasures of Tom's cuts on "Quah". Tom
knew so damn much about everything, that he was always fascinating, and
it's true you were never going to win an argument with him.
I think the greatest experience in
knowing Tom was Tom the person, the one who would tell me about his
life. He never took care of himself, was way too thin, smoked too much,
and sometimes I'd have to make him go with me to eat, just to see him have
a good meal. It was my pleasure, because it was those times that I really
got to feel close to him. In order to make a living, Tom worked building
sets, and stages for the many conventions that rolled into Atlanta, it was
subsistence living, and I know he yearned to have made it with his music.
His passing was rough on me, I tried
to break into his house the day he went into a coma, then later got a call
notifying me that he'd been rushed to he hospital. I went down to South
Fulton hospital to see him when I found out. I gave the nurse all the
info. that I could, and I was told he had a massive lung infection,
and suffered a brain aneurysm. He stayed in a coma for a couple of weeks,
then the strangest thing happened. I hadn't been by the hospital in about
a week, and I had just finished doing a weekly bluegrass radio show, here
in Atlanta, where I spun a bunch of Tom's tunes, and talked about him a
bit. As I was driving home, he was on my mind heavy, and I went to the
hospital on my way home. I talked to the nurse who said she had just
checked his vital signs, and while he was still in a coma, he was stable,
and I could go in. When I went in the room, there was Tom with a
respirator hooked up, and a growth of beard. There was some burnt incense
on the counter, and some dried flowers, from someone who had come by to
see him. I sat on the bed, and proceeded to tell him everything I could
think of that made me like him so much. It was freeing for me, to tell
him how I felt as he lay there. As I made my peace, I went over looking
out of the window, and after a few minutes I heard the respirator stop,
and noticed he wasn't breathing. I ran to get the nurse, and she told me
he had just passed. I was dumbfounded, but so glad that I was there. I
can't help thinking that Tom just needed someone who cared at that moment
so he could go on, and somehow in the mystery of the universe, I picked up
on the vibes. I'll never forget Tom, my best musical memories go back to
the time we spent playing together, and I still have some recordings. My
hat is off to Eric for putting this page together, and I'm looking forward
to learning more about his life as it unfolds.
I first met Tom in the fall of 1955, when he was a senior at Santa Rosa (CA)
High School and I was there for part of my sophomore year, getting braces on
my teeth. My father worked for an oil company in the Middle East, so I was
normally in school there. Tom went by the name "Kit" then, and wore a long
black overcoat. I remember him telling me that he liked history and
English, and wanted to study journalism. He made excellent grades in the
subjects he liked, but he neglected to attend the math and science classes
that he didn't like. In the fall of 1958, I returned to Santa Rosa to attend college, and Tom was part of a group of competitive roller skaters. I recall that in the fall of 1959, he kind of gave up skating and got interested in learning the guitar and becoming what at that time was a "Beatnik." I had a pair of silver earrings that had crusader crosses, or Jerusalem crosses, on them. He liked them and asked me if I could get him a cross like that, so I gave him the cross from one of my earrings. Also in the fall of 1958, I met Tom's brother, Bob, and I guess I should say the rest is history. We married in 1960 and have been married 43 years.... 2 children, 6 grandchildren and a great-grandson. Carla Barber Hobson |
The first thing I'd like to say
is that the last time my brother, Tom, and I saw each other was in late 1961
or very early 1962. I was 21 years old and married to my wife Carla, and Tom
was 23 and married to Glenice (Mickie) Carter. We both lived in Santa Rosa,
CA at that time, but early in 1962 my wife and I and our toddler daughter
moved to Mississippi, and Tom and Mickey moved to San Francisco. Tom and I were both born in the Oakland, CA, area, Tom in Sept. of 1938 and myself in July of 1940. While we were still small our parents moved to Santa Rosa, CA, and not long after were divorced. Apparently neither of our parents were prepared to handle children, so we became wards of the State of California and went through a series of foster homes (at least 6-8 of them I think) never staying in one home very long. Sometimes we were in the same home together, and sometimes not. Eventually we were placed in St. Vincent's Home for Boys in San Rafael, CA, where we remained until Tom finished the 10th grade (which was as far as the school went) and I completed the 8th grade. At that time Tom went to Santa Rosa, CA to live in an apartment with our Dad and to finish high school, and I went to St. Helena, CA to live with my Aunt and Uncle and cousin Kay on their ranch. My Aunt Eleanor Gordon was our father's sister. Up to this point in time, Tom and I only saw each other sporadically, like during vacations or holidays when Tom and my Dad would come to the ranch. Even at St. Vincent's being 2 years apart in age meant separate dormitories, separate classes and separate play areas. In fact while we were in St. Vincent's we probably saw each more often at my Aunt and Uncle's when they would pick us up for vacations than we did at school. When I finished high school, I moved to Santa Rosa to attend junior college, and for a short 3 months Tom, our Dad and myself rented a house together (like a real family)! It was during that time period that I really got to know my brother again, and to get some sense of the person he was becoming. He read voraciously, and had begun to spend a great deal of time at the local bodega (coffee house and tavern) in Santa Rosa, where he could discuss what he'd been reading with others and to listen to some music. Three months after we had rented the house, our father committed suicide. Tom and I never entered the house again. He went to stay with some friends of his, and I with some friends of mine. I saw him only occasionally after that, just enough to know he had started playing guitar and that it had become a focus for him. This all leads back to my first paragraph. We did not have each others addresses in Mississippi and San Francisco, and then both of us moved several times and getting in touch with each other became a hopeless situation. The first inkling I received regarding a way I might find Tom only came along about 5 months ago. A cousin of ours mentioned that she had spotted the name Tom Hobson on a website document regarding Fur Peace Ranch. A look at the website linked a connection with Jorma Kaukonen, and talked about the re-release the following day of a CD titled "Quah". My wife and I ran out and bought the first copy we found, and sure enough it not only included some biography about Tom, but pictures that confirmed it was indeed my brother. We were able to contact Jorma by e-mail, and he replied immediately to let us know that Tom had passed away in Atlanta in 1991. This was enough to allow us to contact Atlanta Vital Records Service and acquire a copy of the death certificate, finding that Tom had died of a brain aneurysm. The first 22 years of Tom's life is all I have ever been able to talk about, but thanks to you, Eric, and your website I'm now learning about the last 33 years of his life. I now have the Quah CD recorded in 1974, the Ragged But Right CD we got from you recorded in 1979, and the Sad, Sad Daddy CD recorded by Matt Miller in 1989 including several songs written by Tom. So now I know what he sounded like while performing his trade, but without your letters, I would not what kind of person he had become. Several people have mentioned how much they appreciated Tom's talent, but all have talked about how much more they appreciated him as a friend. He may not have been "commercial" with what he chose to play, but he was certainly "rich" by all the standards that count -- friends that care. Thanks to you, Eric, we are now in touch with Tom's son Terry, and hope to find his son Greg soon. Bob Hobson |
Philippe Bouasse a.k.a Philippe Boncoeur firstname.lastname@example.com |
This is all Jorma's fault ! I was not
meant at all to meet Tom... until I met him. And I feel blessed about it. Back in '79, I was a young, 18 years old travellin' frenchman, willing to see the world. Frisco was just a stop on my journey around the world. At the time I left France, Hot Tuna's first record was quite popular, thanks to french guitar picker Marcel Dadi whose "Méthode à Dadi" of tablatures featured the classic "Hesitation Blues". My guitar buddies at school were into fingerpicking and I loved it, although I was not practicing anything. Then came Jorma. As I hit Frisco, he was appearing on a solo gig at the Old Waldorf. I went to hear him play... and was totally mesmerized. Period. The day after, that was it: I was going to settle in the city, get me a guitar and someone to teach me acoustic blues. I found this ad in the SF Chronicle¹s that said: "Let your fingers do the pickin", call Tom... with a phone number. Total random ! Called the guy, took the bus down Mission Street, arrived at Tom's place. Did not know anything about Tom Hobson nor the San Francisco scene... Very nice man opened the door, introduced me to his wife Barbara, took me to his room with millions of records and books...
"I want to play acoustic blues," I told
him, "in the vein of Jorma Kaukonen, if you see what I mean." "Jorma?" Tom
replied. "Funny, I did talk to him on the phone a few days ago!" Then Tom
starts to show me some great acoustic stuff on his old Gibson C&W. First
piece we started to study was Mississipi John Hurt's Spike Driver Blues.
Great stuff and me practicing non-stop now. |
Lind-Hanson |
What a treat to run across this website for
Tom Hobson! To see his impish, lackadaisical face staring out of my
computer screen brought on a flood of memories from over 35 years ago. I
met Tom in San Francisco back in 1968 or 69. A mutual friend introduced
us, and I signed-up to take some guitar lessons from him. At the time, he
was living in a flat over a shop on or near Castro Street before it became
the gay center of San Francisco, and I was living just over the hill in
Noe Valley. Tom was sharing quarters with a girl named Carrie and her two
kids and a cat. Back then I was hanging out (or hanging on) with some of
the bluegrass musicians that were 'happening' in the city then, and deeply
involved with a Gurdjieff School that met nights and weekends in the
Haight and Sonoma County. Tom found 'pure' bluegrass too limiting, and
thought the Gurdjieff work was a bunch of bullshit. So we had a lot of
discussion about that. Actually, we had a lot of discussions about many
things, for to know Tom Hobson was to discuss, debate, harangue, and argue
about virtually everything. Tom was a walking font of information - most
of it useful, but much of it obscure, eclectic, and revolutionary. He had
an amazing talent to play music, but to me his mind was even more
amazing. The guitar lessons quickly grew into long head sessions. I was
(and am) a lousy guitar player but a passable country singer, so Tom and
Carrie and I worked up some country songs and a couple of Tom's originals,
and started going around to clubs and playing for free - usually when the
house band took a break. Carrie and I were bad, and Tom was ambiguously
Everyone in 'the scene' in SF seemed to know
Tom, and he not only knew them but he knew their musical credentials and
their musical history. He always talked fondly of his friendship with
Jorma Kaukonen which, as I recall, went back many years. He told me his
story of life in an orphanage, and always seemed to regard the experience
as bittersweet.
Tom had absolutely NO money at that time.
And, it was evident even back then that he was not very healthy - too
skinny, bad diet, bad eyes, bad teeth, and very limited strength. But he
was either blissfully unaware of that, or consciously indifferent to it.
He always seemed optimistic and contented, and was always looking ahead.
And his mind was always active. I believe that Tom's mind was his biggest
liability as a musician. He could never just do a song 'straight'. His
mind was constantly working out new fingerings or chord progressions on
the fly, and he would often stop mid-song and say something like: "Well,
lets see....Um, you could play it this way, or maybe this way, or perhaps
this way....." He couldn't stop inventing music long enough to just
play it -- because just playing it was kind of mechanical. Tom's
wonderfully active mind made him the typical absent-minded genius, and one
story I remember seems to typify this: Late one rainy SF night, a fire
broke out in another flat in Tom and Carrie's building. Tom and Carrie
jumped out of bed and began scurrying around the flat gathing up all
of Tom's broken-down worn-out instruments, the tab sheets to his songs,
etc. They dashed out into the street, standing there in the fog and mist
in their pajamas, arms full of instruments waiting for the fire deparment.
All of a sudden, Carrie said "My God, we forgot to get the kids out of
there!" Fortunately, the fire was never a threat to Tom's flat.
Tom introduced me to Ouija boards (which he
was very fond of) and to Romalar - his favorite poor man's high.
I remember several nights of walking into walls, and Romalar was
never my favorite. Tom's flat, like nearly every flat in SF, had lots of
cockroaches. I can remember times coming back to his flat late at night,
and when he turned on the lights the cockroaches scurrying across
the linoleum sounded like a whole castanet orchestra. Tom's
environmentally elegant solution was to get a pet gecko that lived on the
ceiling by day and roamed the flat eating cockroaches at night while Tom
slept. His house was full of musical instruments/devices - guitars,
mandolins, fiddles, banjos, mouthharps, autoharps, jewsharps, spoons -
nearly all in some state of disrepair. He could make music on all of
them, though the guitar and the autoharp seemed to be his favorites.
We drifted apart after 6 or 7 months, but I
have always regarded him as one of the most wonderfully eclectic people
that I met during those years when SF was the eclectic center of the
universe. His talents were prodigous, his friendliness and hospitality
were amazing, and I shall always remember him as a friend I was destined
to meet at that stage in my life. Thanks Tom.
Peter Remmen
Dale Miller 1971 |
I moved to San Francisco in
1971, determined to make it as a guitar player. I had pretty good technique
on the instrument and had great success in the hair growing department but I
needed to work on stuff like getting loose, being cool and living in the
moment. My family background was pretty far from that. Within a couple of months I snagged a gig as a guitar teacher at Acoustic Music on Haight St. (a store that eventually evolved into today's Haight-Ashbury Music) and began to meet some local guitarists. Tom Hobson was one of the first. We never became best friends but we'd enjoy jamming in the store or shooting the breeze. He was a true Beatnik and hanging with him and other similar sorts helped me realize that guitar playing is only partially about technique, that making music is it's own reward and that enjoying life as it plays out is more important than focusing on careerism. Of course I wasn't able to get it all together but I'm still working on it. Dale Miller |
Hobson, Tom's mother, ceased contact with her mother's family in the 1940's because of a disagreement over her raising both Tom and his brother Bob. Soon after they were left in a state home run by the Catholic church. Our grandmother was asked to adopt both boys and, being financially unable to, was told by the home that they would be adopted out and we were to have no further contact with them. Years later our family found out that this was untrue and the boys had bounced between the home and their father's family. Finding out about Tom's talent only happened posthumously. Everyone in our family regrets the lost years that could have been, the events we didn't share, and the friendships that could have bloomed. Thanks to friends of Tom's like Eric Van der Wyk, Matt Miller and Jorma Kaukonen we are able to enjoy Tom's music and tales of his quirky nature. Thank you! Yours, Maggie (Tom's long lost cousin) firstname.lastname@example.com Tommy was just a few months old in
this picture so it would have been early spring 1939.
The picture starts on the left with my mom, Dorothy, Tom's great-grandpa Fouts
(at back), Tom's great-grandma Fouts (front/center), Tom's grandma Myrtle
Hansen (back), and Tommy in the arms of his mother Myrtle Hobson. From the pictures it appears that Tom looked a lot like his mom. |
B & W Photos by Trish Newton Manuscript of
"Barrier" |
Hello Eric - |
Tom Hobson and Friends"
http://www.davearcher.com/fox.html |
In 1961 I was walking
down upper Grant Avenue, the heart of bohemia and the Beat scene, my eyes
darting about for a "real" Beatnik or two who might actually speak with
me, and especially, might give me a job. I didn't know what a "real" Beat
was supposed to look like, except for having a beard and wearing black,
the women too I supposed. And yes, I know, Beats giving anyone a job, when
they didn't have jobs themselves, pretty funny ... still, that's what I
was doing as a recent arrival there from San Luis Obispo, California, 250
miles below The City, at 20, (I'm 62 now) desperate for money, yet a
somewhat timid painter (unless drinking, then watch out, I'd not only sing
a mean version of, "Raglan Road," I jump your bones until you either
punched, kissed, or gave me money to go away).
Anyway, I saw this guy who looked "bohemian" to me sweeping out the door of a coffeehouse called: "The Fox & The Hound," and asked if he had work for me. I have never forgotten the moment, because it was surprising, after being turned down in other places. Lee Fraley looked me up and down and said, "do you sweep?," and handed me his broom. And I was "hired" for 2 bucks a night like everybody else, plus a gigantic (over a pound) hamburger on half a loaf of sourdough French bread from the Italian bakery a few doors up the street. MAN, that was good bread, warm from the oven. Tom Hobson was also just getting started there, although he had a guitar and was one half of the entertainment, on many nights Lee and Tom were the only folk singers there.
Soon, word got out among
folk singers as far away as New York and New Orleans, that this little
dinky place in Beat San Francisco's North Beach let you sing and pass the
hat. By then I was cooking the burgers, and playing the all round sideshow
roustabout, doorman, nut, dancing with the customers, etc. I was wild back
then. Lee gave us two dollars for beer and cigarettes when we first came
in for the evening. In 1961 Pall Malls were 25 cents a pack, beers a
quarter each too. A pack of smokes and 7 beers would get anyone singing.
Hoyt Axton showed up one night, for his first public performance.
Something amazing was going on. Then Janis Joplin, completely unknown as
yet, and a list of future NAME artists that never ceases to amaze me when
I think back on it. Pete Stemphel, Steven Stills, David Crosby, and on and
on. Tom was always there doing sets. I still have one of his old set cards
he used to tape to his guitar somewhere, and when I find it again, I
promise to scan it, and send it in for this document, because it is so
interesting to see what songs the man was actually performing in those
days. He was ahead of the times really, performing all the songs that Joan
Baez would do later, before she did.
Tom and I hit it off from the first night. Here was a man like me, finally. Perhaps the first one I'd ever met in life who had TRUE passion for ideas, and especially uncovering odd bits and pieces of useful lore, long buried in the past, and then breathing life into it again. I love that! That was my thing too. Tom talked about every topic with avid interest. He was a great listener too, and had a sense of humor that was so quirky it was hard to breakthrough to it at times, but once I did, (which I tried to do all the time), and struck the man funny, he would simply laugh like an animal until he couldn't breathe, and I loved doing that to him. I suppose I enjoyed "getting" him (as much as he loved being "gotten") because Tom Hobson had such a keen interest in books, various authors, philosophy, and especially the obscure, that he could come off as a bit "know it all" at times. I remember Tom "lighting up" like a bulb when friends walked up, and soon he would be sharing his latest arcane nuggets from literature, and especially, delta blues, Reverend Gary Davis, and old English ballads. Tom's finger picking always made me think of a wonderful old music box that you find in the attic, or basement, and open the lid, and don't want to close it.
We kept in touch through
the 80's when I finally lost track of my friend, busy as I was, moving my
work into galleries by then, and lost in the American Scream. One thing
that always impressed me about Tom, was that he was a man forced to live
in poor health all his life, (the hand he was dealt at birth seemed cruel
to me at least) yet my friend never let it stop him like it would have
many others. His keen interest in discovering lost GEMS of music seemed to
act as a permanent psychic IV for him. When Tom made a new discovery, (a
song, poem, artist, etc.) he could get as excited as a boy in love, and I
believe that saved him. I am certain now, looking back, that exuberance
and curiosity gave Tom such pleasure, the "other" couldn't drag him down
until it finally did, and it had to work like hell to do that. I will
never forget his indomitable spirit, and how he kept going, decade after
decade, in spite of all. Thank you Tom Hobson, for teaching me some of the
courage I would need in overcoming my own physical problems later in life.
Tom was a keeper. A fine soul. I will always miss him. Tom knew me by both
of my names, my given name: David Nelson, and my painter name: Dave
Archer. You can find more about the time and place we met, at my website:
in my "Writings" documents, under "Janis Joplin" and "The Fox And The
Hound And The Coffee And Confusion".
Dave Archer |
Not long after I first met Tom Hobson, he began the recording sessions, with long-time friend, Jorma Kaukonen, that ultimately produced the album, "Quah". These took place at Wally Heider Studio, another door in San Francisco's Tenderloin district. In the Tenderloin, many doors took you to sleazy strip clubs, massage parlors and grim, grimy bars - but this one took you to a million dollar recording studio, where many of the great albums of the late Sixties and Seventies were recorded. He brought along a following - raggedy counter-culture urchins, musicians, friends and admirers from the local clubs where he performed, (including myself, and Barbara Rotch, whom he had also just met). We sat and goggled in this Olympian environment as the likes of Papa John Creach, Grace Slick and Jack Casady, (in addition to Kaukonen) wandered through. Tom later would tell the story where he watch Casady (who produced the album) closely for long periods of time until asked just what the hell he was doing... "Watching you produce", he replied. I found a corner where I could watch and sketch; this is pretty much how I spent the time I was there - making drawings of the performers, of the crew, of the miscellaneous folks who drifted through, and also sketches from my imagination; 'sports' and fantasies that birthed themselves in response to the goings-on around me. I recalled this experience when, several years later, and just before the recording of his second album, "Any Place I Hang My Hat is Home", Tom and I wandered the Dark Side of Bernal Heights in the City, looking for photo ops which I could use as the basis for the cover illustration. These were hard times for the both of us, and we worried every day about keeping a roof over our heads. On impulse, and specifically to comment on his current dire situation, Tom perched on a discarded toilet, smiling broadly amongst a pile of discarded furniture and other junk - the image certainly worked with the title song, I thought - I took the picture, but made a mental note not to include the toilet in any final art. The pile of cast off objects, however, reminded me of the vast collection of prized possessions that we dragged around with us - In Tom's case it was musical instruments, old victrolas, vast quantities of books and comic books; 33, 45 and 78 rpm record albums (the number of musicians and groups Tom introduced me to are innumerable); reference books, encyclopedias and unabridged dictionaries, not to mention well chosen and comfortable old furniture, including the four poster bed he had slept in for years. This is what I drew for the cover art, piled on the corner where we took the original photo, adding Tom as a Raggedy-Andy type of doll, picking a guitar. I also added many of the above objects, and more - items that reminded me of Tom, and do so to this day, but I also included what I hoped would be something of an incantation against the current crises and all hard times to come - the image of money falling from the heavens. The Victrola is there because I recall Tom demonstrating how to use the baffles and drawers and doors on his "high-end" player to contour and control and improve the sound - kind of like a mixer created by the original cabinet maker - and in his hands the result sounded infinitely better than the usual scratchy old 78. The Go board is there because Tom taught me how to play Go, a game which has fascinated me to this day, even profoundly influencing my view of politics. But the earthglobe, Atlas, Dictionary and piles of reference book are there because of Tom's love of learning and knowing - not just in finding things out or getting answers, but of constantly seeking knowing, as an end in itself. This is an ailment I caught from him, and which I will thank him for all my days. - Steve Campbell All drawings in this section are by Steve Campbell. To view larger versions of these images, please click here. Click here for his Flickr feed |
I met Tom in 1973 when I was 22 years old
playing with 19 year old Peter Case (who like me continued to make music his
whole life) on the streets of San Francisco down by Fisherman's Wharf and in
North Beach. I don't remember all the details now but he was around at
times, and I heard this hilarious talking blues called ATD BLUES - I think
it meant Aid to the Totally Disabled. I loved it and asked him if I could
write down the lyrics and play it myself. He said sure, so he patiently went
through it with me, and I wrote it down, and for some reason kept it all
these years. It surfaced in a move recently and I wondered if Tom ever did
other stuff, so I did a search on his name and came up with your site. Peter
and I used to talk to and listen to Mike Wilhelm too. He was our blues and
fingerpicking hero.... We used to catch him at the Coffee Gallery in North
Beach. So it was nice to see all these different associations that Tom had.
I didn't really know Tom, but his guitar skills were far and above stuff
what we were capable of at the time. I never realized what a chance I had to
learn country blues then if I had only known! But at the time I was
struggling to make money for food and living in crash pads and free places
so life wasn't very easy. Here is the song. Tom did it in a kind of talking
blues mode. all the best from Sweden Bert Deivert http://www.deivert.com/blues A.T.D. BLUES - Tom Hobson (talking blues style) transcribed by Bert
Deivert in San Francisco down at the Cannery in 1973. |
Do you have something to
the webmaster.
Tom Hobson's long out of print solo
album now on CD!
Tom Hobson and Ragged but Right
Tom's Newest CD "Sad Sad Daddy"
' Called Hobson ' Webmaster is pleased to be associated with the remembering Tom
Hobson site.
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subset: commoncrawl


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BACKGROUND: On September 11, 2017, the latest hearing in the trial against the Cumhuriyet daily newspaper was held in a courthouse in Silivri, just outside Istanbul. A total of 19 Cumhuriyet employees, including some of Turkey's most prominent journalists, are accused of simultaneously assisting -- and in some cases also being members of – the leftist and pro-Kurdish Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK), the leftist Revolutionary People's Liberation Party/Front (DHKP/C) and the Gülen Movement, which the Turkish government claims masterminded the failed coup attempt of July 2016. Under Turkish law, all three are classed as armed terrorist organizations.
Since the case was launched in October 2016, all but six of the accused have been released pending the completion of the trial. On September 11, the presiding judges rejected an application by defense lawyers for the release of those who remain behind bars. No convincing justification was provided, either for their continued detention or for why they have been singled out from the other accused. However, it is probably not a coincidence that, in previous hearings, the six were amongst the most outspoken in describing the charges against them as being orchestrated by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan in an attempt to stifle one of the few daily newspapers which is still prepared to criticize him.
Not only have the prosecutors failed to provide any evidence that the defendants supported or were involved in terrorism but the allegations appear irrational. In terms of their ideologies and ultimate aims, the PKK and the DHKP-C are diametrically opposed to the Gülen Movement. It is difficult to envisage how anyone could simultaneously support all three.
Disturbingly, in preparing the indictment in the Cumhuriyet case, the prosecutors appear to have felt little need to make the charges even appear convincing. For example, the investigative journalist Ahmet Şık is accused of trying to assist the Gülen Movement to realize its goals. However, before the movement's alliance with the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) collapsed into a power struggle in late 2013, Gülenists in the judiciary prosecuted and imprisoned Şık for publishing details of how they were manipulating judicial processes for their own ends.
The ostensible grounds for which Şık was imprisoned then were as irrational as they are now. Gülenist prosecutors charged Şık, who is a committed leftist and a fierce critic of right-wing Turkish nationalists, with being a member of an alleged Turkish ultranationalist gang called Ergenekon, which they claimed was behind virtually every act of political violence in recent Turkish history and was ultimately controlled by the United States. (See april 4, 2011 Turkey Analyst) In a country constantly seeking solace in conspiracy theories, the claim gained considerable traction. But the absurdity of the specific charges against Şık also served a more sinister purpose. By demonstrating that anyone could be imprisoned on any pretence, without regard to logic or due process, the prosecutors were able to broaden the intimidatory impact of the Ergenekon investigation. Rather than merely punishing those they imagined to be guilty, it enabled them to terrorize those they knew to be innocent.
Long before the failed coup attempt of July 2016, the Gülen Movement had already become the AKP's own Ergenekon. Not only was the movement blamed for virtually every setback and challenge faced by the government – including, bizarrely, cooperating with the PKK – but it, too, was alleged to be ultimately controlled by the United States. Since July 2016, the regime has broadened its anti-Gülen campaign to target anyone regarded as being associated with the movement, irrespective of whether or not there is any evidence that they committed or were aware of any criminal acts. The only exception has been inside the AKP, many of whose members were arguably considerably more complicit in the crimes committed by elements within the Gülen Movement than the majority of Gülen's rank and file sympathizers.
Although the Cumhuriyet case has attracted the most international attention, it is not the only absurdity. Amongst the tens of thousands who have been arrested and/or stripped of their livelihoods on allegations of membership of the Gülen Movement are many – such as secularists, atheists and members of Turkey's heterodox Alevi community – whose sympathies and worldviews could not be more different. As with the Ergenekon investigation, the absurdity of some of the allegations has served as an amplifier, terrorizing the innocent to the point where no one who criticizes or questions the government can feel safe.
IMPLICATIONS: There has also been a contrast between the regime's insistence on the Gülen Movement's power and pervasiveness and the selectivity of its willingness to conduct thorough investigations of the criminal acts allegedly carried out by some of its members. Sound often seems to take priority over substance, and self-aggrandizing myth over reality.
This even extends to last year's failed coup. The government has refused to allow a comprehensive investigation of the events of July 15-16, 2016. There has yet to be even an acknowledgment of the conscripts and cadets who were tricked into participating in what they believed was an exercise – and were then lynched by Erdogan supporters. The government impeded the work of a parliamentary committee of inquiry, including refusing to allow it to talk to Chief of Staff General Hulusi Akar and intelligence chief Hakan Fidan -- presumably to prevent them from having to answer questions about their curious behavior in the immediate run-up to the putsch.
The official denials that any of those detained have been tortured or physically abused have been contradicted by a mass of evidence that is so extensive as to suggest that, rather than being the actions of a few rogue individuals, such practices have become widespread and centrally approved. This is not only problematic in itself but raises doubts about the reliability of any alleged confessions of wrongdoing – and is also a gift to anyone wishing to retract what had been a genuine confession.
Since the trials of the some of the alleged participants in the putsch began in the early summer of 2017, the emphasis has been on spectacle rather than justice, emotion rather than rational analysis. Suspects are paraded – and excoriated in the pro-government media – as if their guilt has already been determined. Hearings are frequently interrupted by impassioned outbursts by government lawyers and the bereaved relatives of the civilians who Erdogan called onto the streets to confront the putschists. Not everything in the trials is absurd. Some of the evidence presented by the prosecution – such as CCTV footage – suggests that some of the defendants are being disingenuous in denying that they actually participated in the coup. But little attempt is being made to filter out the facts from a mass of supposition, distortion and untruth.
Perhaps more insidious than the frenzy with which the pro-government media have covered the trials have been the silences. There are many anomalies in what is known about the events of July 15-16, 2016 – such as the participation of both suspected Gülenists and known opponents of the movement and why, even in a closed WhatsApp group, the putschists used Kemalist terminology to describe themselves. But there are also many missing pieces. Some may eventually turn out to be Gülen ones. But they are still missing – and no one appears to be looking for them.
One of the most curious features of the coup attempt was its incompleteness. The purported coup plan that was fabricated by elements in the Gülen Movement for the Balyoz (or "Sledgehammer") case – which resulted in the imprisonment of hundreds of serving and retired military personnel – was flawed, but it was detailed and included provisions for what would supposedly happen if the putsch was successful. Neither of these apply to the real attempted putsch of July 2016. It is difficult to believe that the Gülen Movement would spend considerably more time and effort on an imaginary coup plot that one that they were planning to implement – which suggests that, if they were responsible, their plan has yet to be discovered.
Indeed, the specific actions taken by the putschists appear to have been more about visibility and public impact than seizing control of the apparatus of state. The limited forces that participated in the coup were certainly sufficient to cause considerable material damage and kill even more than the 250 civilians who died. But they were never going to be enough to seize power, much less to hold it.
It was common knowledge for months before the coup attempt that lists of suspected Gülenists in the military were being compiled in preparation for their expulsion. Yet, even if Gülenists had panicked and planned and implemented the putsch at very short notice with what they knew were very limited forces, this would not explain the specific events that occurred on July 15-16, 2016. If anything, it would make them even more curious.
If the attempted putsch was to have succeeded, the known events of July 15-16, 2016 can only have been a part of a much larger plan, most of which still remains unknown. The only plausible alternatives appear to be that the putschists were acting completely irrationally or that they had been given the erroneous impression that they were only part of a much larger plot. When so much still remains unclear, what is most troubling is not the lack of answers. It is the absence of questions.
CONCLUSIONS: The silences are not confined to allegations about the Gülen Movement. In fact, they are probably at their most pernicious in the regime's control over news from the predominantly Kurdish southeast, where they are exacerbating a widespread sense (including amongst Kurds who are opposed to the PKK) that the rest of the country is indifferent to their sufferings – and further fuelling a growing conviction that the future of the region lies in some form of detachment from Ankara.
Nor is the regime's increasing disregard even for the appearance of the rule of law only affecting its critics and opponents. It is probably having a more dangerous impact on Erdogan's hard-line supporters. Embittered by class hatred against the more Western-looking segments of society, and empowered by what they regard as their role in thwarting the July 2016 coup, many already appear to believe that they are engaged in a form of civil war against the perceived traitors in their midst – and have not just a right but an obligation to take matters into their own hands.
Gareth H. Jenkins is a Nonresident Senior Fellow with the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute & Silk Road Studies Program Joint Center, affiliated with the American Foreign Policy Council and the Institute for Security and Development Policy.


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as possible, including those of lower quality – unfortunately there are some like this,
as we arrived at the cemetery in the evening twilight.
Right after entering the gate, we encounter the oldest tombs of the cemetery. According to the testimonies of their inscriptions they are not much younger than the Jewish community of Lesko itself whose origins reach back to the beginning of the 16th century. The oldest tomb I could decipher was dated of 1599.
These early tombstones lack any imagery, but the calligraphy of the inscriptions is exceptionally beautiful. Although the community of Lesko was founded by Sephardic Jews, the impact of the Ashkenazi cultural environment may have been quite strong, as these stones – in contrast to the traditionally laying Sephardic tombstones – are standing erect, and most of them display an Ashkenazi calligraphy of a classical beauty. The inscriptions are rather laconic: the name of the deceased and the date of the death are framed only by the traditional formulas "Here is hidden" and "May his/her soul be bound up into the bundle of life".
Beginning with the end of the 17th century, the decoration of the stones gets richer. There appear the first symbols indicating the descent and conditions of the deceased. The tombs of the Kohanim – the descendants of high priest Aaron – are marked by two hands lifted to priestly blessing.
In the times of the Temple of Jerusalem, the helpers of the high priests belonged to the tribe of Levi. Similarly to the Kohanim, they also keep in evidence their descent. Their tombs are decorated with the pitcher with which they had washed the hands of the high priest in the Sanctuary.
This tomb of a Levite from a good family has the inscription "Estimated man from the Horowitz family". Above the pitcher on the top of the stone there is a three-letters Hebrew word pronounced as "Segal". This is the widespread abbreviation of the title of the Levites: "Segan leviyyah" whose interpretation is debated. Literally it means "the Levitical deputy", but it is better translated as "the prince of the Levites" or "the assistant of the high priest". It is first used in a written document for the indication of the Levites in 1070. Later it became a frequent family name for Levites; the renowned painter Mark Chagall also bears a version of this name in a French transcription.
An interesting couple is the Levite's pitcher and the resting deer on the following tombstone. The deer may refer to the Hebrew name – Tzvi, Naftali – or family name – Hirsch – of the deceased.
The tombs of housewives are often decorated with five-branched candlesticks referring to the festive candle-lighting and to the piety of the deceased woman. In the cemetery of Lesko this symbol is found in a fantastic diversity: there are candlesticks with three, five and seven branches in a variety of styles from a flamboyant Baroque to a Classic sobriety.
In the 18th and 19th century the art of tombstones lived a great revival. This period saw the establishment of an Eastern European school of tombstone carving which assimilated the motifs of high Baroque art into a "folk Baroque", a widespread popular art. This virtually unprecedented flaring of folk art was most certainly connected with the incursion of Hassidism which propagated the beauty and love of life, and rediscovered the relationship between man and nature. This unexpected outburst of joy of life is reflected in the new Jewish folk art of the 18th century which penetrated dance, music, illustrations and pottery as well as the work of tombstone carvers. The stones of this period display a never seen proliferation of pictorial symbols and decorations. Often it is impossible to determine whether a certain element of the rich decoration – an animal as an eagle, deer, lion or dove, or a crown, a bookcase, a fruit or a flower – is a symbol or just an ornament. It is perhaps more correct to speak about an imagery or a pictorial language which recalled a series of associations in the pious Jews well-versed in the Bible and the Talmud. To mention just an example, several Jewish tombstones display a cluster of grapes. According to the great professor of Jewish folklore, Rabbi Sándor Scheiber this symbolizes the family: "Your wife is like a fertile grapevine" (Ps 128:3), while in other places it is the symbol of Israel: "You have torn out a grapevine from Egypt" (Ps 80:9). Which one is the right meaning? What did the one-time master want to convey with this symbol? A large number of interpretations is possible, and this makes the message of the stones attractive and beautiful.
Let us highlight some recurrent tombstone motifs together with their Biblical and Talmudic sources. We often see a crown on the top of the stone. This refers to a verse of the Talmudic tractate Pirkei Avot: "There are three crowns: the crown of the Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of kingship, but the crown of a good name surpasses them all." (Avot 4:17)
To some of the Lesko crowns the carver also added an inscription indicating which of the four types it is: usually the crown of good name, but the tombs of the Kohanim naturally display the crown of priesthood.
On some tombstones we do not find any explanation, but the image makes the interpretation unambiguous. On this stone which most probably stands above the grave of an outstanding Talmudic scholar, the crown above the bookcase can only symbolize "the crown of the Torah":
The eagle, the deer and the lion can also refer to a verse of Pirkei Avot: "Be strong as the panther, light as the eagle, fast as the deer and courageous as the lion, so you could do the will of your heavenly Father." (Avot 5:23). In Lesko the deer may also refer to the frequent family name "Hirsch".
The eagle can be a symbol of maternal caress as well: "Like an eagle that stirs up its nest, that hovers over its young, it spread its wings and caught them, it carried them on its pinions" (Deut 32:11). It can also symbolize the caress of God: "Your youth will be renewed like that of the eagle" (Ps 103:5).
The lion is a very frequent motif with a very wide symbolic sphere. It is the coat-of-arms animal of the tribe of Judah and of the house of David, and thus also a general Jewish symbol. According to Professor Tamás Raj, the crown held by two lions – a frequent motif in Lesko as well – represents the protection of the Torah. Furthermore, it can also refer to the Hebrew or Yiddish name – Judah, Aryeh, Leeb, Löw – of the deceased.
On some more recent tombs we see peculiar lions whose almost human face is close to blasphemy:
I have discovered with surprise that some close relatives of these "antropomorphic" lions live several hundred kilometers away from here, in the likewise splendid Hassidic cemetery of the Romanian Gura Humorului where similar human-faced lions smile on us from several gravestones:
and master Rav Yehuel Mikhal, son of the Kohen Rav Yisrael. Deceased on the 22nd
day of Adar Rishon of 5668 (1908). May his soul be bound in the bundle of life"
– From the album of Lajos Erdélyi: Az élők háza (The house of the living)
On some stones the lion and the deer lay together:
It is interesting to see that this imagery still flourished in the first half of the 20th century. Several stones that I would have dated to the 18th century on the basis of their motifs, were carved as late as the 1920s.
The new, rich imagery brought with itself a change of the style of the inscriptions as well. The former laconic texts were succeeded by rhymed elegies of several verses which praise the merits of the deceased in a classical Biblical style.
The community of Lesko was swept away by the Holocaust without a trace. It is no wonder that most tombs have no visitors today. The most important exceptions are the tombs of two rabbis in the middle of the cemetery. The most important one is that of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Rubin. His son, the Hassidic rabbi Naftali Tzvi Horowitz was the founder of the dynasty of Ropschitz, and as many as five other descendants of him became founders of Hassidic dynasties. The visitors coming from all the world thus revere in Rabbi Menachem Mendel the forefather of not less than six Hassidic dynasties. They light candles on his tomb, and as a sign of their visit, they place pebbles and kvittels, notes with requests on the gravestone.
The other, somewhat more modest tomb marks the place of rest of the Rabbi of Lesko Avraham Chayim, son of Naftali Tzvi and grandson of Menachem Mendel. About him we know just as little as about his grandfather. On the internet only a few pages in Yiddish and Hebrew mention his name in connection with his kinship. Nevertheless, the pious pilgrims do not forget about him, and we also find several candles, pebbles and kvittels indicating their visits. The last verse of his tomb is: "And He loves Israel". If we add the numeric values of these letters, we receive the date of his death: 5591 which corresponds to the civil year of 1831.
The tradition of kvittel writing has an interesting development in Lesko. Most notes, which also include the list of the persons making the requests and their family members, were written by hand by the pilgrims.
However, not even an ancient tradition like this is left untouched by modern technology: we also find some computer-printed lists of requests.
The most far-out kvittel, however, was seen on this tomb:
The name of the person making the request can be read above the bar code of the baggage tag. Did the pious pilgrim pray here for the recovery of his luggage lost at the airport? Or by way of this state-of-art technology his request is simply displayed on the screen by scanning the bar code in the Heavenly Hall? Will the progress of technology lead to the establishment of a digital kvittel-sending service in Lesko, similar to the ones existing at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, at the tomb of Rachel in Bethlehem or that of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov in the Ukraine? Hopefully not.


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Voices from Leimert Park: a poetry anthology
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An anthology like this has been a long time coming. For the last fifteen years, every place we come together, whether it was The World Stage, or someone's party, a birthday gathering, a child's naming ceremony, a funeral or a home-going, whether it was a cement corner or Fifth Street Dicks (Richard Fulton's place) backed up by a jazz band, we have always brought words. …We all knew [this anthology] needed to happen, but we were busy living and loving, making babies and building careers. And, of course, we were writing. Yet, we knew a renaissance was happening in Los Angeles, akin to the Harlem Renaissance. But we were caught up in it, shaking, grinding our pencils down, downing endless cups of coffee at a table outside Fifth Street, trying to find the words to say it precisely the way our heart was beating the sounds out.
mikael ahadou
riua akinshegun
kim benjamin
jennifer bowen
shonda buchanan
paul calderon
wanda coleman
kamau daÃood
michael datcher
jawanza dumisani
ruth forman
goldie the poet
peter j. harris
levan hawkins
yuri hinson
jamal holmes
wendy james/tcheconsase
jason luckett
josslyn luckett
k. curtis lyle
a.c. lyons sr.
ymasumac maraÑÓn
keith antar mason
jose mendivil
sequoia olivia mercier
rhonda lynn mitchell
merilene m. murphy
art nixon
v. kali nurigan
e. j. priestley
jerry quickley
ariel robello
s. pearl sharp
renee simms
romus simpson
raaki solomon
jervey tervalon
lynne thompson
imani tolliver
a.k. toney
debra a. varnado
pam ward
conney d. williams
angelo williams
jaha zainabu
- Chris Abani, author of The Virgin of Flames and GraceLand.
Shonda Buchanan is an award-winning author, professor, former magazine editor, and an Education Specialist for the U.S. Department of State.
Former Interim Chair and Assistant Professor in the Department of English and Foreign Languages at HAmpton University, Shonda Buchanan is the Fall 2017 Writer-in-Residence at William & Mary College.
She has taught poetry, fiction, narrative nonfiction, composition, magazine writing and edited, and research for the last 15 years. An award-winning poet and fiction author, her expertise includes Contemporary America, African American, and American Indian Literature, Comparative Literature, as well as Women's Literature and canonical texts.
Shonda is an Eloise Klein-Healy Scholarship recipient a Sundance Institute fellow, Jentel Residency fellow, and a PEN Center Emerging Voices fellow. She has received a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, the California Community Foundation, and the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities.
As a culture and literary arts ambassador and lecturer, Shonda has conducted workshops and presentations for the U.S. Government Accountability Organizaiton, the U.S. Embassay Kuala Lumpur, the Athens Institute for Education and Research in Athens, Greece, the Association of Writers & Writing Programs, the Hampton Roads Writers Conference, the Poetry Society of Virginia and many others.
Literary Editor of Harriet Tubman Press, Shonda edits books by and about African American people, culture, and heritage. Shonda has lectured, participated on panels, and has taught workshops at numerous colleges and universities; and has presented at U.S. public libraries, organizaitons, bookstores, high schools, middle schools, and conferences.
Holding a B.A. and M.A. in English from Loyola Marymount University and an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Antioch University, Shonda's first collection of poetry, Who's Afraid of Black Indians?, explores the complexities of bi-raciality and the intersection between Blacks and Native Americans.
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10:15 am
Feels like it should be later than now. I asked Molly what INRI means. She said Iron Nails Ran In. And IHS means I Have sinned: or no: I Have Suffered. Wouldn't mind suffering a little more. I'll command Martha to meet me at St James. Run into whom? Exactly. Hear the mass. Christ or Pilate? Christ, but don't keep us all night over it. I'll say do not deny me. Bring a veil and a black bag. Want a little wine? Prepare for confession. Everybody wants to. Come on, tell me a little then I will tell you all. And now some penance. Punish me please. Lovely shame. Hello! Fly open. This whole time?


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accordion format, Ada Lovelace, Analytical Engine, British, Charles Babbage, computer, computer programmer, Difference Engine, grommett, handwritten, inkjet, Jacquard looms, Kelly Whitman, Lord Byron, mathematics, punch cards, The Enchantress of Numbers, this is my body press, typewritten
"The valleys filled with silicon and I was forced to learn a new language. Now I speak in bits and bytes. Strings of zeros and ones. I navigate a new topography." –Kelly Wellman
"Imagination…is that which penetrates into the unseen worlds around us, the worlds of Science. It is that which feels & discovers what is, the real which we see not, which exists not for our senses." — Ada Lovelace in a letter to Charles Babbage
Ada's Echo
Kelly Wellman
California: this is my body press, 2001
Countess Ada Lovelace (1815–1852), a British mathematician and musician, was the first computer programmer. In 1833, Lovelace, daughter of Lord Byron (who abandoned her as a child), befriended Charles Babbage (1791–1871), the designer of the Difference Engine, considered by many to be the first computer. Babbage died before completing the machine. The Difference Engine was designed to run on punch cards like those used at the time to run Jacquard looms.
Lovelace helped Babbage refine and direct his ideas, editing, footnoting and often correcting his work. Her writings are considered among the earliest texts on modern computer programming. Lovelace and Babbage carried on a lifelong correspondence. Babbage called her "The Enchantress of Numbers." Lovelace's friend, Florence Nightingale, explained her prowess in mathematics as "vitality of the brain."
Pages are inkjet printed and composed of layered sheets. Translucent paper forms the top and main text page through which the secondary text and shadowy images are seen. By layering the pages, progress is depicted as a process of accrual, in which many hands and voices contribute over time.
The modified accordion binding was produced by weaving pages together through grommetted corners (at both the head and foot) with plastic paper strips. Pages are punched with different configurations of holes to recall punch cards. Plasticized paper over board covers are also punched.
Handwritten text excerpted from Ada Lovelace's letters to Charles Babbage. Typewritten text by Kelly Whitman. Issued in handmade box. Rare Books copy is no. 7 in an open edition, signed by the author.


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