Notes from the Gramophone

A moment of silence to remember Mary Travers, the golden haired soprano voice of Peter, Paul & Mary, who died last week at age 72.

Folks were remembering their favorite PP&M songs, and we were out someplace and people were singing “Puff the Magic Dragon,” recalling it from their childhoods. I loved PP&M but my recollection of “Puff” was not so happy. All I could think of were the lyrics:

“A dragon lives forever but not so little boys….” and then “One gray night it happened/Jackie Paper came no more/And Puff that mighty dragon/He ceased his fearless roar….” And then, didn’t Puff sadly slip into his grave? his cave? or was it the sea? (I should really look this up)

My point is, major bummer. Puff’s best friend abondons him. Puff doesn’t know if Jackie Paper died or moved or just decided to give him the cold shoulder. I’ve been there. Have you ever had someone disappear on you? It’s not fun. I guess I have issues with abandonment.

So Puff is lonely, and loses his self-esteem: “he ceased his fearless roar.” He loses his voice, his optimism, his chi. Thanks a lot Jackie Paper. Some friggin’ friend. You couldn’t have written a note? A “Dear Puff” letter?

The PP&M song I much prefer is “Leavin’ On A Jet Plane.” (1969? 1970?) I can still see the 45 — it had a green label, maybe Warner Brothers. My sister bought it for me. It’s a lovely little story, melody and arrangement. (John Denver wrote the song, by the way.) What I didn’t realize, because I was so young, was that the song resonated powerfully with guys going to Vietnam and their loved ones. “I’m leavin’ on a jet plane/don’t know when I’ll be back again/Oh babe, I hate to go.” (You might have sung “don’t know IF I’ll be back again.”)

Now that’s a thought that could bring real tears.

Farewell to Mary Travers, who I had the privilege to interview years ago. She had pretty much retired from touring, but enjoyed walking to the local pub in her country village and singing there. She said there was something very European about it: walking to sing among friends, and then walking home again. She was gracious and warm, I recall.