The Blind Boys of Alabama
Smile for a Saturday
The music of the season is in the air.
It’s impossible to separate Christmas from the many songs that help give the holiday its soul. They have the power to transport us through time, bringing forth memories of days and people long gone. In their melodies and well-known words, we find paths of connection - with our traditions, our loved ones, and our broader communities.
When I think of Christmas and music, so many thoughts spring forth in my mind. I think of my parents and my children when they were younger. But I also think of more recent years. And I can almost taste a fresh batch of Christmas cookies coming out of the oven.
Christmas is a time for reflection and thanks. We can recognize our blessings as well as our struggle, reveling in the power of the human spirit to persevere. All of these emotions has me thinking back this year to remarkable group of men I first met nearly two decades ago.
They were known as the Blind Boys of Alabama, and we did a profile of them for 60 Minutes II back in 2002. Two of the men we met, Clarence Fountain and George Scott, have since passed away. So too has the lead producer of the piece, a good friend and colleague of mine for many years, Michael Rosenbaum. But even now, I can’t help but smile when I think about those times.
My co-writer here on Steady, Elliot Kirschner, who was also a producer on the original piece, found a copy of a Christmas update we did from 2002. So please indulge us if this Smile for a Saturday is a bit self-referential (you’ll even hear this old reporter attempt to sing) . Nevertheless, we hope you enjoy it.
I want to thank all the of you who are enjoying and sharing this story about the Blind Boys of Alabama, and also our Steady newsletter more generally. This story has a very special place in my heart as well. First and foremost because I loved meeting these remarkable musicians. But this was also the first piece I ever worked on with Dan. I was a young reporter and very nervous, but I knew everything would be fine when we shared a Diet Dr. Pepper (and storied of how LBJ had Dr. Pepper shipped to the White House) as we sat in the back of a commuter jet from New York down to Birmingham. Thanks again for being part of this community. It means a lot.
I had the privilege of seeing the Blind Boys at an outdoor jazz festival in Sandpoint, Idaho years ago. They were the “warm up” for some famous performer whose name I don’t recall. In those days north Idaho was almost totally white. As they announced the Blind Boys, the audience seemed bored and restless, waiting for the main event. I heard some people sitting behind me complaining and saying they would leave and come back later after these (“old N-word) guys are done. Other people were agreeing. Then the blind musicians came out on the stage. After their first song, it was dead quiet. Then the cheers broke out for what seemed like hours. As they continued to sing, people left their seats and danced on the grass. Others cheered so loudly it was hard to hear the music. I saw people shedding tears. Personally, as they played on, I felt the spirit of black gospel music for the first time. It felt like my heart was swelling and ready to explode. I could not stay sitting. That night I felt and KNOW the spirit of God was in that group. Those cynical people behind me were dancing and crying too. After their performance, a lot of people, including my group, left before the main event. We walked by the lake in the moonlight and looked in silence at the stars. I will never forget that night and the way gospel music sung by those men changed the hearts and minds of so many people. Thanks Dan, for reminding us of the blessing of the Blind Boys.