Hear My Sad Story: The True Tales That Inspired “Stagolee,” “John Henry,” and Other Traditional American Folk Songs by Richard Polenberg

Abstract

Reviewed by: Hear My Sad Story: The True Tales That Inspired “Stagolee,” “John Henry,” and Other Traditional American Folk Songs by Richard Polenberg Scott Huffard Hear My Sad Story: The True Tales That Inspired “Stagolee,” “John Henry,” and Other Traditional American Folk Songs. By Richard Polenberg. (Ithaca, N.Y., and London: Cornell University Press, 2015. Pp. x, 293. $26.00, ISBN 978-1-5017-0002-6.) In the epilogue of this survey of the true stories behind many of America’s most beloved songs, Richard Polenberg argues that “the history of American folk music is the history of the American people,” and the whirlwind tour that precedes this statement certainly proves his point (p. 262). Over the course of this book, Polenberg connects the historical record—or “true tales”—to twenty-seven different well-known songs in the American folk canon. Polenberg organizes the book by categorizing the songs into sections focusing on St. Louis (the home of Stagolee and W. C. Handy), murder ballads like the story of Tom Dooley, railroad matters, labor struggles, and martyrs like Joe Hill. Each song gets a write-up that sets the scene, provides detail on the story that inspired it, and names a few of the song’s more relevant recordings. Where appropriate, Polenberg inserts lyrics into his narrative as a way to directly link history with legend. Polenberg is a historian, not a musicologist or folklorist, and he brings the strengths of his profession to bear on this task, especially when it comes to providing the context behind each song. The murder of Delia Green (“Delia’s Gone”) makes more sense when considering the descending curtain of Jim Crow in turn-of-the-twentieth-century Savannah, just as grim Interstate Commerce Commission labor statistics help one comprehend the many songs touching on the horror of railroad and mine work. Polenberg’s research typically moves well beyond the existing secondary-source literature on these songs. For example, a look at census records gives new insight into the true identity of Alabama train robber Railroad Bill. Many of these stories reached their end in a courtroom, either due to the crime itself or to the legal wrangling over the resulting song. Polenberg skillfully mines these records. And when encountering more disputed terrain, he notes the existence of debate, as in the case of John Henry, who has been claimed by West Virginia, Alabama, and even Jamaica. The John Henry dispute speaks to one minor shortcoming of the work. For a book that claims to provide answers, it raises a great deal of new questions. If the stories behind these songs reveal American history, the ever-changing meanings these legends held for Americans are just as intriguing. How did West Virginia come to claim Omie Wise, who clearly was killed in Randolph County, North Carolina? How did former Confederate raiders Cole Younger and Jesse James become redeemed as anticapitalist Robin Hood figures? This is far from a serious critique of the work; these are the kind of questions sure to spur more interrogation. In sum, the book is valuable as an [End Page 195] encyclopedia of sorts—as a way to look up a specific song—or in its totality as a unique and admittedly grim window into American history. But one final question—in this age of easily shared streaming music, why is there not a recommended online playlist linked to the book? Scott Huffard Lees-McRae College Copyright © 2017 The Southern Historical Association