Have Moicy! Michael Hurley Has Set Off on that “Long Journey.”

With an old memory from Peter Stampfel

Michael Hurley was a true American folk singer of the first order. I think of him in the same rarefied atmosphere as Mississippi John Hurt, Roscoe Holcomb and John Prine… who was blessed with a career, while Michael barely eked out a living for most of his life, thanks to his “cult” following. Hurley was a musician who was gonna play his guitar and fiddle and write his beautifully quirky songs no matter what the world thought… whether on his own porch or down at neighborhood some dive bar for ten bucks (and most recently at the Big Ears Festival!)

Now part of why “success” never wanted anything to do with him probably had a lot to do with him not wanting anything to do with “success.” He was definitely not a career guy! Years ago, in the mid-80s I wrote and briefly co-edited the hallowed bible of folk song – Sing Out! magazine and was surprised to find the “folk world,” completely ignored Hurley, despite a series of great records that began with First Songs on Folkways Records in 1963.

So, after a few rounds of verbal wranglin’ and heavy shaming on my part, I got the green light to write a feature on Michael. After finally getting him on the phone, calling long distance cross-country – him in Oregon, me in NYC, to give him the good news, Hurley said, “Nah… No thanks! I’m gonna change my name to ‘Sagebrush Sam’ and head down to the river and see how the fish are bitin’.”

A few years later I was living in Milwaukee and hosting a Friday morning radio show on WMSE. I helped him set up a gig at a local bar called Brett’s, where my band The Atomic Croutons used to play. I said, “C’mon down to the station and play a few tunes and help promote the gig!” But he never showed… I guess the fish were bitin’ pretty good that day. Either that or he was sleeping off a night of drinking in his old Dodge van, breathing in that cool Lake Michigan air. We did a few more gigs together – loved by dozens in Appleton, Madison and Minneapolis, where it rained cats and dogs and only a handful of the hardcore showed up.

Despite sharing the stage and playing a few tunes together, I wouldn’t say we were exactly “chums.” Whether due to ample amounts of weed or wine or both, or perhaps his hermetic nature, I always found Hurley a bit distant. Maybe after sharing his singularly brilliant world of song, paintings and cartoons with the rest of us, he needed to keep something for himself.

At a time when folks are concerned about America’s fading “greatness,” believe me when I tell you the country was a lot better off before Mr. Hurley set off on his “Long Journey.”

Oh and here’s a little memory Hurley’s pal Peter Stamfel shared with me a few years ago: “I found the back to the country movement a little dumb,” Peter Stampfel, the Holy Modal Rounders’ high-octane fiddler and banjo picker confessed. “It started in 1963 or ’64 when (singer/songwriter) Michael Hurley moved to the woods in Bucks County (Pennsylvania) and built a teepee. After he did, somebody else built a teepee near him, and Hurley moved deeper into the woods. He was then followed by the same teepee builder, who in turn was fleeing a new batch of teepee builders, who soon were fleeing the next wave of teepsters. Each wave was a little bigger than the last, all chasing Hurley deeper and deeper into the woods.

I was puzzled by just what it was they were doing out there in the woods, day after day, besides fleeing each other. I would ask these folks when they showed up in the city, just what do you do there in the woods? Everyone I asked gave me the same reply; ‘We see deer.’ ‘What else?’ I would ask. ‘We see deer,’ they would clarify. This is the only explanation anyone ever gave me.”