Shanties as Oral History

When Every Thumb was a Marlinspike

The Longwinded Shantyman

Photo by Rande Gjerstad - The children still gather to listen

  My next-door-neighbor Earl is 98 years old. Earl tells a story of breaking his arm when he was a boy. He remembers that day vividly because the trip to the doctor was his very first ride in a car. Imagine that, Earl’s parents, just one generation back in time, had grown up without ever seeing cars. In that very recent past, most of the world could not afford a cart, much less a horse. It would be a banner day indeed to travel by coach. This situation must have impacted people’s world view tremendously. What truly mattered, the “scope” of our ancestor’s existence, was the distance that could be traveled in half a day, on foot - then you must turn around, if you were to safe at home by nightfall. That truth scaled the size of communities and shaped our collective mindset. A sad fact was that a good portion of the population was illiterate - what was beyond the horizon could not travel to you in the form of a book.

  In this world walked, (or rode) the travelers. Those men moving from inn to lodge, fort to garrison, carrying news, language and songs. What must have those rare bards been like to those with an experience spanning a mere 30 miles? The maps, stories, strange new words and songs they would bring would be as memorable as Earl’s first ride in that car. The traveler might have even seen a city, or a snow-topped mountain - things almost impossible to believe.

  Now, imagine a sailor coming into the village. He is not a traveler on horseback, bringing news from hundreds of leagues distant. No, this strange man is telling stories of the far side of the world. He speaks casually of people of different colors, of mountains that smoke, of salt water without end. At first you think him mad, but the elders of the village say others like him have come this way before, with similar stories, words and songs.

  And that is the crucial point: reinforcement. Everything out of his mouth is memorable and will be repeated, everywhere he goes. Your village may die out, victim of a killer plague - your whole world, its unique words, customs, and language, destroyed in a few months, but not the sailor’s. His world is everywhere. His words are sprinkled all around the globe, waiting for a parallel development to again push that term to the fore, reinforcing it yet again. Or perhaps with some expressions the continuity will never be lost and people will never stop using them, we will just forget their origins.

  I wonder if his songs will ever die? Will the tunes he ground out to pass the time while on watch stay with us over the centuries? Will there come a day when folks gather in a circle and remember the first world traveler, his words and his stories of far-away places? Maybe the leader of the circle will keep track of the time on an instrument named after those long lonely hours our first shantyman spent on deck, watching the sea and sky…

Who knows?

Mark Olson

A True(ish) Story - Harbo & Samuelsen

In Brooklyn, New York,
at the turn of the century,
Lived two young Norwegians
so brave and so bold,
Frank Samuelsen only halfway
through his twenties,
George Harbo had just become
thirty years old.

Now, Harbo had spent all his life on the water,
he shipped in square riggers while barely a lad.
His partner likewise was no stranger to workin',
No matter the task he gave all that he had.

Chorus
“We'll see you in France
or we'll see you in Heaven,”
cried Harbo and Samuelsen out on the bay.
Two hardy young oystermen after adventure,
no one believed they could row all the way.

Many men had attempted to cross the Atlantic,

in small wooden boats that were driven by sail.

Those that succeeded were welcomed as heros,

but many there were who did nothing but fail.

Then a rich publisher offered a challenge
that men in a vessel no matter the size
could not make the crossin' without steam or canvas,
and ten thousand dollars he named as the prize.

Now dredgin' up oysters by hand is no picnic,
and these two young fellas were tough as a whip.
Said Frank, “If we row only four miles an hour,
in fifty-four days we could finish the trip.”

Obtaining a sponsor
they started their training;
they ordered a dory made of cedar and oak.
Just eighteen feet long
with a draft of eight inches,
and Fox was the name of their cockleshell boat.

On the sixth day of June,
eighteen-ninety and six,
Messrs. Harbo and Samuelsen started to row.
They took food and water to last until August,
and the newspapers said
they were foolish to go.

From the slip in Manhattan
they rowed through the narrows,
and out for the gulf stream and onto the deep.
Each day they would row
eighteen hours together;

each night they took turns
gettin' three hours sleep.

Well, their stove wouldn't light
so they ate cold provisions.
Their arms and their hands
became swollen and cramped.
The odd passing vessel that took 'em on board,
was their only relief from the toil and the damp.
Then out on the Grand Banks
the weather attacked 'em;
the wind humped the water
into mountainous waves. They lashed down their oars;
they tied on their lifelines
and prayed they were not going
straight to their graves.

A monstrous wave hurdled out of the darkness,
rolling over the Fox and her terrified crew.
Their lifelines held fast
but they lost half their water,
and most of their food it was swept away, too.

They carefully rationed the little remainin',
prayin' for help as they rowed through the brine.
At last a tall ship appeared on the horizon

with the colors of Norway a floating behind.

Well, the Captain could not be convinced
they weren't crazy, but he gave them supplies
and they went on their way.
By the lines on the charts
they were half-way to Europe,
and now they must row sixty miles every day.

The weather held fair,

the two men kept pulling,
all during the days, far into each night.
Then early one morning before the sun rose,
far out on the horizon they spotted a light.

On August the first they made land at St. Mary's,
off the south coast of England
close by Bishop's Rock.
In amazement the townsfolk
gathered down by the water,
where Harbo and Samuelsen barely could walk.

Most men would have stopped then
to bask in the glory,
after having been sunbeaten,
capsized and starved.
But they were both back in their boat
the next morning,
and in less than a week they arrived at Le Havre.

So all of you listening
that yearn for adventure,
like Harbo and Samuelsen so long ago.
Like them be prepared for the task you'll be facin',
they were not only brave
but by God they could row!

© Jerry Bryant - post by Mark Olson

Bryant says of his ballad: "I had to write this song (1985) because it was astounding to me that these two men had accomplished such a feat over 100 years ago and NO ONE REMEMBERED. I am amazed at the perseverance, guts and stamina it took for them to cross the ocean in an 18 foot open boat, without the benefit of freeze-dried food, GPS navigation systems, radios, flashlights, nylon, aluminium, and everything else modern adventurers take for granted. My hope is that my song will allow an awareness of Harbo and Samuelsen's achievement to reach a wide audience, and will provide an inspiration for folks to keep trying no matter what obstacles confront them."

More about George Harbo and Frank Samuelson, the first men to row across the Atlantic Ocean in 1896 without sail or steam, and the book Daring the Sea based on the original logs.

Maritime History and the Oral Tradition of Song

July’s Sea Shanty Song Circle and Sing-Along was all I had hoped it would be - and about a lifetime too short. Our shared maritime tradition is so varied and rich that there are simply not enough hours in a day to convey the nuanced history that the age of sail expresses in its oral tradition of song. Still, we sure gave it a go. Everyone present on that glorious Thursday evening laid to and heaved mightily. It was a wonderful gathering and I trust we all left a bit hoarse, but also a little more knowledgeable about the traditional maritime experience. I enjoyed especially sharing the donated local historical artifacts. Singing a line from a song is one thing, but being able to hold in your hand an object directly relating to the subject propels us into a whole new realm of understanding.

I have gladly accepted Lee’s invitation to lead the circle again in December and ask you all to start thinking now about researching contextual tidbits of your favorite song(s). Think about how to distill the data into a few quick phrases to share with everyone (if you wish and the opportunity presents itself). Just as much as I enjoyed telling you a small part of what I know of sailing lore, I loved hearing what you all had to say (and sing!)

Let’s keep it going.

Fair Winds & Following Seas,
Mark Olson

You won't want to miss the July 5 Song Circle! Mark Olson shares why...

One and All,

A monumental moment in America's sailing history came and went with little fanfare, back in 1989. Washington State was turning 100 years old, and as we looked back at how far we had come, few noticed the many things we had lost along the way. That was the year Aberdeen launched a replica of the first vessel to carry the (then new) independent colonial flag to the west coast of what was to become the 48 contiguous United States of America. There were many problems with the replica, the most notable being (in my mind) the sad fact that during her maiden voyage the crew of the brig Lady Washington set none of her square sails, due to the simple fact that not one crew member knew how. Far across the Pacific, in the rapidly crumbling Soviet Union, their beautiful fleet of sail training tall ships had fallen into such disrepair that officers had to patrol the decks 24/7 while visiting foreign ports, in order to keep their frightened crews from jumping ship and defecting. Even as late as 1997, when the pride of the U.S. Navy, the frigate Constitution celebrated her 200th birthday, by setting sail for the first time in many decades, an embarrassed command staff had to outsource the task of training her crew to those outside the Navy, because it seemed that the greatest water-borne war machine on Earth had actually forgotten how to sail.

Fortunately our story did not end there. History had not yet truly died. It was merely slumbering in the memories, hearts, and imaginations of a scattered population. These people only needed a touchstone: the sight of sails rising up over a distant horizon - the smell of musty old pages that rustled as they were slowly leafed through - the sound of voices raised in the songs of old - to bring them together. Synergy, dreams, blood, and sweat, would do the rest. Each person held a piece of our shared past, and together they began to rebuild our history.

Yesterday is far from dead. Come take a first-hand look at a scattering of truly remarkable historical artifacts, supplied by local families, dating from the age of sail and steam. Add your strong voice and knowledge to our shanty circle and hear just how far we have come. Who knows? You might carry that missing piece, and bring us one step closer to reclaiming fully what was nearly lost.

We will see you Thursday, the 5th of July....

Mark Olson

Sing Shanties Song Circle Leader

NOTICE: Our July 5 Song Circle will not meet in the cafe as we have in the past. The new cafe, Velocity, is under new management; for the time being the cafe closes at 2:00 p.m. We will meet upstairs in the Maritime Meeting Room from 6:00 p.m. - 8:30 p.m., as usual. The space is really great, but beverages and food will not be available, so you may want to bring your own non-alcoholic beverage and a snack.

Directions as follows: The Maritime Meeting Room is on the 2nd floor of the Maritime Heritage Building (yellow building). If you go up the stairs between the red and yellow buildings and look right, there are a set of double doors that lead into the building; the library is to the right. Once inside go straight on about 20 feet and the Maritime Meeting Room is on the left with restrooms to the right across the foyer.

Join us July 5th to sing and celebrate our maritime heritage with shantyman Mark Olson!

Mark Olson gained his knowledge of maritime song and lore after he came aboard the Pacific Northwest’s fleet of tall ships “through the hawsehole”. Beginning as a deckhand and slowly rising through the ranks, Mark retired in 2005 as the Northwest Regional Port Captain and now remains in an advisory capacity to the Grays Harbor fleet. His greatest love while voyaging aboard the West Coast’s many sail training vessels was teaching both the craft and history of traditional sail. Mark’s diverse experience allowed him the pleasure of working alongside some of the world’s foremost shantymen and women.

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Keep on singin' shanties!

50 Folks came out to warm their vocals at our Junuary Song Circle

Though a rather cold and blustery night, what a great turn out and wonderful evening of singing shanties with Wayne Palsson leading our "Junuary" Song Circle! Among the 50 folks who attended our June gathering, a group from the Port Townsend Yacht Club joined us. We hope they will be regulars at our monthly gatherings!  

Jim Amis and Bob Evans of the Shifty Sailors are regulars at our monthly sing-alongs. Bob explains the phrase  "shin bone al" in the shanty Bully in the Alley.

Wayne Palsson led the Song Circle, encouraging folks to lead, request or pass to the next shanty enthusiast... until everyone had an opportunity to participate, including the gentle man with the banjo below who led us in song with a chorus about Harry Truman who lived and died on Mount St. Helens.

Ahoy, mateys - spread the word! Wayne Palsson leads our June 7th PT song circle.

Wayne Palsson has been singing chanteys and maritime songs up and down the West Coast for the past several years, focusing on songs with rich tones reflecting the fishing and maritime trades.  His own nautical experience on the high seas and local waters helps to anchor his interpretations of traditional chanteys and forebitters (leisure songs), new and local sea songs, and even a few overlooked classics by Gilbert and Sullivan. Wayne is the host of Northwest Seaport’s Chantey Sing, a monthly sing-a-long that continues a decades-old tradition of maritime music in Seattle and the Pacific Northwest (visit www.nwseaport.org).  Wayne has appeared in Northwest Folklife Festivals and Tacoma’s First Nights, participated in many of the chantey camps in the region, hosts the annual Chantey Sings at the Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival, and produces maritime concerts.