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The Spinsters’ Ball – The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

“He beats me up, but I love him!”

– Jane Zantzinger

We’ve already written about bob Dylan’s amazing song The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll in the context of the recent death of her killer, racist scumbag William Zantzinger.

Hattie Carroll, a 51 year old black waitress and mother of eleven, was killed on February 9, 1963, at a white tie Ball at the Emerson Hotel in Baltimore, Maryland.

Here’s a fascinating early account of the incident from Time Magazine just 13 days later.

Reading the article, it’s strange to see what surreal and fucked up lives these landed racist gentry used to lead! Guess some still do to a lesser extent today.

Also, using modern standards, it’s strange to see the more overt and open racism then at play, reflected in Time’s many usages of the word Negro here!

The Spinsters’ Ball

Friday, Feb. 22, 1963

Holly trees arch gracefully over the neat white fences that line the dirt road leading to the brick mansion at West Hatton, the 630-acre Zantzinger farm-estate in southern Maryland. The mansion’s colonnaded porch faces the somnolent Wicomico River, which flows past a placid pond and a white summerhouse. Also on the estate is an austere farmhouse from which William Devereux Zantzinger, 24, runs one of the most prosperous tobacco operations in Charles County.

The setting befits William Zantzinger’s status as a rural aristocrat. His father, a former member of the Maryland house of delegates and the state planning commission, still lives in the mansion, where he and his wife entertain in convivial country style. William and his attractive wife, Jane, 24, organized the Wicomico Hunt Club, love to halloo after hounds across their fields. William is unlike many a gentleman farmer. His farming success is due not to the efficiency of hired supervisors, but to the long hours of gritty, grubby work he himself does afield. But by last week it was apparent that he can play even harder than he plows.

Whacks, But No Tips. The Zantzingers set out for a gay social evening of dancing at Baltimore’s annual Spinsters’ Ball, a white-tie affair in which passed-over postdebutantes in their late 20s take another try at meeting the right sort of men. With another couple, the Zantzingers stopped off for preball dinner at downtown Baltimore’s Eager House.

As witnesses tell it, Zantzinger downed two fast drinks at the bar, then whacked the restaurant’s hostess and its elderly sommelier with a wooden carnival cane that he had picked up somewhere. Coaxed into checking the cane, he lunged at the wine steward’s cordial tray, then his neck chain, caught a sharp elbow in the stomach in return. Zantzinger had two double bourbons with his steak; Jane Zantzinger, four double Cutty Sarks with her prime ribs. When the head barman refused to serve more, Jane hopped to another table, sipped from the glasses of its surprised occupants. Zantzinger left no tip for the waitress.

At the ball in the Emerson Hotel, the pace picked up. Zantzinger stung a Negro bellhop’s rear with his cane. After a few bourbons and ginger at the open bar, he asked a Negro waitress, Mrs. Ethel Hill, 30, something about a firemen’s fund. She said she did not know what he meant. “Don’t say no to me, you nigger, say no, sir,” said Zantzinger. He flailed her with the cane. She fled to the kitchen.

Too Slow. Minutes later, Zantzinger strode to the bar for another drink. Mrs. Hattie Carroll, 51, a Negro barmaid, did not move fast enough for him. “What’s the matter with you, you black son of a bitch, serving my drinks so slow?” he railed. He beat her with his cane. She collapsed and an ambulance was called.

Through it all, the orchestra of Howard Lanin* played on, many of the spinsters missing the commotion—even when Zantzinger turned on his 125-lb. wife, who fell to the floor. More blows flew as two men struggled to calm Zantzinger. A physician felt Mrs. Zantzinger’s pulse, decided she would be all right.

“I Love Him.” Two policemen arrived to lead Zantzinger away. Jane Zantzinger. much revived, cried: “He beats me up, but I love him!” She jumped down five stairs, knocking both her husband and Patrolman Warren Tood to the floor. Both of the Zantzingers were taken to jail, later released on bail.

The whole wild night could have wound up as just another bender, something with which the Zantzingers might later wow their guests (“What a night!”) after riding to hounds. Even the disorderly-conduct and assault charges lodged against Mrs. Zantzinger would only add zest to the tale. But one thing changed all of that. Mrs. Carroll, a mother of eleven and president of a Negro social club, died eight hours after the caning. A medical examiner found that the cause of her death was a brain hemorrhage. The charge against Zantzinger: homicide.

*Brother of Lester Lanin. whose orchestra sometimes entertains at the White House.

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January 23, 2009 Posted by | Mason Jennings, Music_Folk, William Zantzinger, _BOB DYLAN, _MUSIC, _PHOTOGRAPHY, _POETRY, _VIDEO | Leave a comment

TTRH3.12 Bob Dylan TTRH Season 3 Ep 12 ‘Nothing’


Bob Dylan’s Theme Time Radio Hour

Season 3

Episode 12

Nothing

Original Airdate January 14, 2009

(Streaming Country Pie Vers.)

Mp3 @ 256 kbps/ 136 MB/ RS + ES

Absolute Sound Recorder > Sound Forge 6.0 > FLAC Frontend


Theme Time Radio Hour, your home for Zero Dreams, Blank Themes and Null
Schemes

“Nothing can come of nothing: speak again.”

King Lear (I, i, 92)


– William Shakespeare



“Life is a tale told by an idiot — full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

– William Shakespeare

“Nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.”

– Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)





I couldn’t be more excited because today I’m going to talk about nothing.



As most of you know, I’ve studied nothing my entire life and I like to think I’m a bit of an expert.



There you go. you’ve got Freudian Therapy, Jungian Therapy, Reichian Therapy. And now “Them-Timian Therapy”. You know which one my money is on.


Hey mama, when you leave
Don’t leave a thing behind
I don’t want nothin’
I can’t use nothin’

Take care into the hall
And if you see my friends
Tell them I’m fine
Not using nothin’

Almost burned out my eyes
Threw my ears down to the floor
I didn’t see nothin’
I didn’t hear nothin’

I stood there like a block of stone
Knowin’ all I had to know
And nothin’ more
Man, that’s nothin’

As brothers our troubles are
Locked in each others arms
And you better pray
They never find you

Your back ain’t strong enough
For burdens doublefold
They’d crush you down
Down into nothin’

Being born is going blind
And buying down a thousand times
To echoes strung
On pure temptation

Sorrow and solitude
These are the precious things
And the only words
That are worth rememberin’


– Townes Van Zandt



Dr Dre was a member of NWA – not to be confused with the NRA, or the WBA.



That sounded like Me playing harmonica !!!




…. a dog commonly known as Snoop.



If you are going to say nothing, you ought to keep it sweet


I got plenty of nothing
And nothing’s plenty for me
I got no car – got no mule
I got no misery

Folks with plenty of plenty
They’ve got a lock on the door
Afraid somebody’s gonna rob ’em
While there out (a) making more – what for

I got no lock on the door – that’s no way to be
They can steal the rug from the
floor – that’s OK with me
‘Cause the things that I prize
– like the stars in the skies
– are all free

I got plenty of nothing
And nothing’s plenty for me
I got my gal – got my song
(I) Got heaven the whole day long

Heyward/Gershwin/Gershwin


We’ve learned nothing and we’ve accomplished nothing. And I certainly hope you enjoyed it.




No love, no nothin’
Until my baby comes home.
No fun with no one,
As long as baby must roam.

I promised him I’d wait for him
Till even Hades froze.
I’m lonesome, heaven knows,
But what I said still goes.

No love, no nothin’
And that’s a promise I’ll keep.
No sir, no nothin’
I’m getting plenty of sleep.

My heart’s on strike,
And tho’ its like
An empty honeycomb,
No love, no sir, no nothin’
Till my baby comes home.




Well Bill, say you do get divorced, you can start writing Country Songs …..



I call it the Theme Time Radio Hour silent treatment ….

Dylan’s magnificent and seminal Theme Time Radio Hour series continues into Season 3 with this great show on the theme of Nothing!

A theme based on the combined IQ of GW Bush, Paris Hilton and Sarah Palin? Kinda …. but not really!

Surprisingly, for such a nothing theme, there’s some amazing music and the show is especially entertaining!

We note that in the great intro is the line “a wealthy man terrorises a waitress“! Could this be a reference to the scumbag William Zantzinger of “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” infamy (who we wrote about yesterday) who kicked the bucket a week or so back?! Gotta be!

As usual, lots of great info and facts, corny jokes and witticisms.

Some great marriage advice too! A new breakthrough treatment called “Them-Timian Therapy”! I’ll remember those nuggets next time my marriage is on the rocks. Probably in a day or two!

A few guests, including some bimbo rabbiting on about tanning!

Loads more amazing music too with some stone-cold classics. Most of the Rat Pack are here today too – well the best two, Sammy and Frank anyway!

And one of our all time favourite songs, the majestic, harrowing and sublime Townes Van Zandt classic “Nothing” which Elvis Costello speaks very nicely about in the intro!

Of course also there are a few more obscure tracks such as the great Nothing by The Fugs and the magnificent It’s Nothing To Me by Harry Johnson, who we’d never heard of before.

We also loved the track Nothing But The Wheel – a new one to us – by Peter Wolf with some backing singer called Mick Jagger!

Is that really Dr. Dre and Snoop? Yap, some Nuttin’ But A “G” Thang! Yap!!! And did Bob really say “shizzle my nizzle“?

All in all, a truly wonderful show!! One of the best of Season 3, no doubt!

Next week’s show should really be something though!

Yap, the next theme is Something!



We’ll be back again next week and with any luck, we’ll talk about something.

Tracklisting

Intro
Nuttin’ But A “G” Thang – Dr. Dre Featuring Snoop Dogg (background)
Nothing – The Fugs
Don’t Say Nothin’ (Bad About My Baby) – The Cookies
There Is Nothin’ Like A Dame – Sammy Davis Jr.
Sweet Nothin’s – Brenda Lee (Little Miss Dynamite)
I Got Plenty O’ Nuttin’ – Frank Sinatra (Mr. Frank)
It’s Nothing To Me – Harry Johnson
Nothing But The Wheel – Peter Wolf (w/ Mick Jagger)
No Love, No Nothin’ – Marlene Dietrich
Nothing Takes The Place Of You – Toussaint McCall
I Ain’t Got Nothing But The Blues – Mose Allison
That Ain’t Nothin’ But Right – Mac Curtis
You Ain’t Nothin’ But Fine – Rockin’ Sidney
Nothing – Townes Van Zandt
Outro

Next Week Something

Here she be Dylanite dogs !


The full show on one mp3;

http://www.sendspace.com/file/n6gvfd

Various individual show components recorded as individual mp3s;

http://rapidshare.com/files/183353800/3 … 1-2009.zip



Big thanks to blindwilly / charlespoet!




January 16, 2009 Posted by | Tom Waits, Townes Van Zandt, TTRH Season 3, William Zantzinger, _ART, _BOB DYLAN, _Bob Dylan's Theme Time Radio Hour, _MUSIC, _POETRY | Leave a comment

The racist Marylander made famous in Bob Dylan’s "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll" passed away last week.

The racist Marylander made famous in Bob Dylan’s “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” passed away last week.

by Michael Yockel

www.splicetoday.com

A bit more than week ago, William Zantzinger—”Billy” to friends and family—died of complications related to coronary disease, age 69, in Southern Maryland, where he lived his entire life. Very likely, the name elicits only a head-scratching question mark to anyone less than 50 years old or unfamiliar with Bob Dylan’s prodigious song catalogue. Arguably, Zantzinger—over the years a tobacco farmer, real estate owner, nightclub manager, auctioneer/appraiser, and antiques shop operator—comes across as the single most despicable real-life figure depicted in a Dylan composition.

Dylan’s “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll,” a simply strummed acoustic guitar and wheezy harmonica number typical of his early troubadour style that appears on the 1964 album The Times They Are A-Changin’, chronicles the true story of how Carroll, a 51-year-old black waitress/barmaid and mother of 11, and the white Zantzinger, 24 at the time, tragically intersected at the quaintly named Spinsters Ball, a charity event at downtown Baltimore’s long-defunct Emerson Hotel in February 1963. Tellingly, Dylan does not explicitly mention Carroll and Zantzinger’s races.

In a who/what/where/how opening ripped straight from the first sentence of a newspaper story, Dylan begins, “William Zantzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll/With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger/At a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’.” (Dylan spelled it “Zanzinger.”)

“The story, I took out of a newspaper,” a 22-year-old Dylan explained to host Steve Allen on the latter’s TV show in February 1964, before delivering a solemn rendition of “Lonesome Death” in front of a hushed studio audience. “I changed the reporter’s view—I used it … for something that I wanted to say.”

He used it all right. Dylan etches a social caste system, wherein privileged (“Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres/With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him/And high office relations in the politics of Maryland”) and bellicose (“And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling”) lord of the manor Zantzinger assaults Carroll (“A maid of the kitchen … who carried the dishes and took out the garbage”), resulting in her death (“Killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane/That sailed through the air and came down through the room/Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle/And she never done nothing to William Zantzinger”), and then cynically eviscerates a criminal justice system that convicts Zantzinger only of manslaughter, handing him a meager six-month sentence (“In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel/To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level/And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded/And that even the nobles get properly handled”).

True, sort of, although Dylan treats the facts of the case somewhat cavalierly. Five years ago, I spent weeks poring over newspaper and courtroom accounts of the Zantzinger/Carroll case for a story published in Baltimore magazine. By the time Zantzinger, his wife, and another couple stumbled into the Spinsters Ball, they had been on a daylong drinking bender, with Billy knocking back bourbon after bourbon. A bulky six-foot-one, 220-pounder dressed in top hat, white tie, and tails, Zantzinger immediately proceeded to hector hotel employees, swatting a 19-year-old bellhop with a five-eighths-inch thick carnival cane. At 1:15 a.m., a blotto Billy demanded a drink from Carroll; when she failed to respond to his satisfaction, he called her “a fat bitch” and “a nigger,” then struck her across the shoulder with his cane. Minutes later, she crumpled, fell unconscious, and died eight hours later of a cerebral hemorrhage. An equal-opportunity abuser, Zantzinger carried on, whacking a 30-year-old waitress several times at 1:30 a.m., which engendered a minor scuffle, with the cops finally hauling away Billy and his wife.

Charged with murder, Zantzinger ultimately was convicted that summer of manslaughter by a three-judge panel, who determined that Carroll’s pre-existing high blood pressure and enlarged heart made her especially vulnerable to Zantzinger’s verbal and physical assault. He did six months and paid a $625 fine, seeping back into the Southern Maryland fabric a bete noir for life, thanks to Dylan, whom he never forgave, venomously and famously telling author Howard Sounes in 2001, “He’s a no-account son of a bitch. He’s just like a scum bag of the earth … I should have sued him and put him in jail.”

Zantzinger knew about the Big House. In 1991, he pleaded guilty to 50 misdemeanor counts of “unfair and deceptive trade practices” when he continued to collect rents—even raising them!—on a handful of wooden shanties without indoor plumbing five years after the local county government took possession of the properties in lieu of unpaid property taxes. Sentenced to 18 months in prison, Zantzinger also paid a $50,000 fine—a weird irony when measured against his 1963 conviction.

Dylan still occasionally performs “Lonesome Death” in concert, its visceral power and impact undiminished, while a legion of critics has parsed the song’s lyrics and offered up mini-manifestos on its place in the Dylan canon. Irwin Silber claims it “had a significant impact on American consciousness and style,” while Paul Nelson, less enthralled, notes, “That the song itself is a masterpiece of drama and wordplay does not excuse Dylan’s distortions.”

For his part, Dylan, characteristically laconic, told Steve Allen on that 1964 TV show, “I used a true story, that’s all. I could have used a made-up story.”

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January 15, 2009 Posted by | William Zantzinger, _ARTICLE, _BOB DYLAN | Leave a comment

The Lonesome Death of William Zantzinger

And she never done nothing to William Zantzinger

-Bob Dylan


“(
Dylan)‘s a no-account son of a bitch, he’s just like a scum of a scum bag of the earth, I should have sued him and put him in jail.”

-William Zantzinger
from Howard Sounes”Down the Highway, the Life of Bob Dylan”


In the momentous week when, in a few days, Barack Obama will make magnificent history and be inaugurated as the first black President of the United States, it’s shocking to consider that only a few decades back – within Obama’s lifetime! – an ingrained racist and wealthy estate owner from a renowned landlord family, William Zantzinger could casually kill a black waitress he’d just met- the hard working mother of ten children – just a stone’s throw away from New York and Washington DC, in Baltimore and receive essentially no punishment!

With assistance from the racist status quo, racist authorities, racist systems and ‘good ole boys’ networks, the charge was knocked down by the Courts from Murder to Manslaughter.

Worse, Zantzinger served only 6 months for this most heinous evil crime – the same term as he might have served had he committed a negligible crime such as letting some speeding tickets go unpaid!

Furthermore, the Courts allowed Zantzinger to serve his time in a local cell where there would be no black co-habitees intent on payback and making his time rather unpleasant!

There’s even more! Yes, the racist Courts even allowed deferral of the start of his jail sentence to give Zantzinger time to harvest his tobacco crop!

This craziness is sickeningly incomprehensible!

The message sent out by the authorities was that, since Hattie Carroll was poor, and more importantly, black, her life was worthless. The taking away of that life was therefore nothing important and merited no proper sanction.

The abhorrent crime took place on February 9, 1963, at a white tie Ball at the Emerson Hotel in Baltimore, Maryland when one William Zantzinger casually – for no reason at all – killed a totally innocent black woman, Ms Hattie Carroll with two blows to the head from a cane. And thereby suddenly left 11 children without a mother.

Earlier that evening, Zantzinger had also casually assaulted another black waitress with his cane at the same event!

Zantzinger and his first wife Jane were attending the charity ball in Baltimore. Zantzinger was drunk when he arrived, decked out in top hat, white tie and tails, and grew even drunker as the evening wore on. After collapsing on top of his wife during a dance, he went to the bar demanding yet another drink. When it failed to materialise at once, he swore at the barmaid. “I’m hurrying as fast as I can,” press accounts quoted Carroll as replying – to which Zantzinger declared, “I don’t have to take that kind of shit off a nigger,” and hit her with a cane he was carrying.

The vile name of William Zantzinger and his vile crime were forever made infamous by Bob Dylan in his magnificent “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll“. This song was recorded a few months after the murder, on 23 October 1963, and released on Dylan’s 1964 album The Times They Are A-Changin’.

This event has come into the public domain again in the past week with the death of the murdering scumbag Zantzinger who kicked the bucket last week aged 69, having lived a full 46 years longer than he would have, had he slain a white person in 1963. Years during which this abhorrent cretin continued to commit a litany of crimes and abuse.

His further crimes included federal tax delinquencies and landlord related crimes pursuant to “properties” rented to poor black people – properties described by the Maryland Real Estate Commission as “ramshackle, primitive structures reminiscent of slave quarters.”

Zantzinger had for years been exploiting poor black people as a landlord and charging exorbitant rent to live in shacks which were in violation of county habitability codes and lacking water and sewer connections. He, at one stage, was even charging rent on certain shacks he no longer owned.

Ironically for the various illegal rent crimes, Zantzinger in 1991 was fined $50,000 and sentenced to a 19 months in prison – over 3 times the sentence he received for murder!

Unlike the judge in the Hattie Carroll case, the judge in 1991 refused his request to delay the start of his sentence to get his affairs in order. However, some of his prison sentence was served in a work release program.

The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” is a momentous work, in more ways than one, and ranks amongst Dylan’s finest.

In this song, Dylan firmly upholds one of the main pillars of the folk music tradition from it’s Irish / Scots homeland where for hundreds of years, going back to the Gaelic tradition, folk music was used as a tool to document historic events – especially atrocities and other significant crimes – and to inform as many people as possible about the facts of an event, thereby keeping the event alive in the public consciousness.

Aside from the magnificence of the song itself in terms of structure, lyrics and melody, the most notable Dylan achievement was the fact that he was able to properly damn the appalling Zantzinger and his appalling crime to the annals of infamy and to spread knowledge of the specific atrocity – and by extension the abhorrent racist structures which enabled the crime and later allowed it go unpunished – not only far and wide at that time, but also across many generations of music fans down the decades.

A truly remarkable and commendable achievement, probably unique in modern music.

Were it not for Dylan, the sick story of Zantzinger would have been lost to the annals of history and oblivion soon after he served his sentence.

The proper blackening of Zantzinger’s name achieved via “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” was in many ways greater punishment than the Courts gave him!

Aside from that phenomenal achievement, the song itself is a magnificent work – beautifully structured, with simple yet poetic lyrics which wonderful express rightful indignation while managing to avoid bombast.

There are a few factual changes though; Zantzinger’s name is rendered as “Zanzinger”, probably to avoid a libel charge – while Dylan says Hattie had 10 children, not the true number of 11 – as eleven, it was said, did not fit the meter!

Starting with stark powerful and factual line “William Zantzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll” the song continues by simply setting out the shocking factual details of this shocking crime. It also contrasts the social status and wealth of Hattie against that of Zantzinger and his ilk as well as subtly describing the clear racial divide and protocols which lay between them.

We particularly like the line “Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane” which, aside from factually describing what happened, can of course also can be read as an allusion to the first ever murderer, as set out in the Bible!

“The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” is a sublime timeless work which will still haunt Zantzinger as he wallows in Hell!

A few good links on the Hattie and Zantzinger story, here;

Zantzinger (left)

Dylan continues to perform “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” to this day. His live-audience renditions of it appear on the albums Live 1975 (2002) and Live 1964 (2004).

Below is;

  • a video of a fine Dylan TV performance of this great song from 1964
  • the original LP version
  • another Dylan live version from a London show in 1965
  • a nice, suitably understated cover version by Mason Jennings from last year’s I’m Not There OST.


Note: Audio files available for a limited time only. Not in breach of copyright as in accompaniment to a legitimate review of the song.


The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll

With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger

At a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’.

And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him

As they rode him in custody down to the station

And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.

But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain’t the time for your tears.

William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years

Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres

With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him

And high office relations in the politics of Maryland,

Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders

And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,

In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.

But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain’t the time for your tears.

Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen.

She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children

Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage

And never sat once at the head of the table

And didn’t even talk to the people at the table

Who just cleaned up all the food from the table

And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,

Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane

That sailed through the air and came down through the room,

Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.

And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger.

But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Take the rag away from your face.

Now ain’t the time for your tears.

In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel

To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level

And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded

And that even the nobles get properly handled

Once that the cops have chased after and caught ’em

And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,

Stared at the person who killed for no reason

Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’.

And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,

And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,

William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.

Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,

Bury the rag deep in your face

For now’s the time for your tears.

Bob Dylan – The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
Steve Allen TV show
1964

Bob Dylan – The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

Original version

Bob Dylan – The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

Live – 5/10/65, London

hattie_london_65.mp3

Mason Jennings – The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

I’m Not There OST

NOTE:

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January 15, 2009 Posted by | Mason Jennings, Music_Folk, William Zantzinger, _BOB DYLAN, _MUSIC, _PHOTOGRAPHY, _POETRY, _VIDEO | 1 Comment