An Ode to Merle

The death of Merle Haggard brought back memories of an article about the country legend published some years ago in the New Yorker. The article was typical New Yorker style, an exhaustive piece with the history of his career interspersed with anecdotes, interviews, and analysis. The latter however, as one might expect had a rather snide tone. After all, to the staff of the New Yorker, the epitome of conventional liberalism, just about everything Merle seemed to stand for was anathema to them. At a time when they or their older colleagues were protesting the Vietnam War and developing alternative life styles, Merle was singing 'Okie from Muskogee,” the defiant but cheerful refutation of the hippies and war protesters and those who 'make a party out of lovin.” He followed that by the even more defiant” The Fighting Side of Me,” which disparaged the Vietnam War protesters who were 'harping on the wars we fight.” When they were 'running down my country man” they were 'walking on the fighting side of me.” The song encompassed the suggestion 'if you don't love it, leave it,” warning that the protesters might be better off to leave the country.

So Merle seemingly stood for just about everything that the liberal media either disliked or looked down on. To the media his fans were both red-necked and blue collar. Yet Merle's ballads touched people in ways that could transcend social and educational barriers. Yes, many were of the traditional genre of drinking and prisons and mama, maybe good to hear in a tavern, but easily forgotten. But who can't emphasize with the laid off factory worker in the sad but lovely ballad 'If we make it through December?”, or the wish that one's parents could have had life easier and more prosperous in the mournful 'Hungry Eyes?” Who can't wax nostalgic about his description of a trip back to see an aging widower father ('The roots of my raising run deep”), remembering the Christian mother who could still ' ... take off her apron and do the Charleston ...” and describing his father, 'a quiet man ... who could borrow money at the bank simply on his word.”

Merle's hard scrabble background enabled him to understand ordinary people, their strengths and weaknesses, the trials and tribulations they face daily, and the joys they got from living. He sang his songs with astonishing subtleties of feeling. That voice could alternately tease you with a humorous tone, almost caress you with the silkiness of his baritone voice, or sadden you when he sang pathos. Not a perfect man but darn near perfect in his genre. He will be missed.

' Gary L. Maydew, of Ames, is a retired Iowa State University accounting professor. Comments: glmaydew@hotmail.com