a freewheelin time by suze rotolo

link from expecting rain


[www.randomhouse.com]


Written by Suze Rotolo
Category: Biography & Autobiography - Composers & Musicians
Publisher: Broadway
Format: Hardcover, 384 pages
Pub Date: May 2008
Price: $22.95
ISBN: 978-0-7679-2687-4 (0-7679-2687-0)

Also available as an eBook.


ABOUT THIS BOOK

A Freewheelin’ Time is Suze Rotolo’s firsthand, eyewitness, participant-observer account of the immensely creative and fertile years of the 1960s, just before the circus was in full swing and Bob Dylan became the anointed ringmaster. It chronicles the back-story of Greenwich Village in the early days of the folk music explosion, when Dylan was honing his skills and she was in the ring with him.

A shy girl from Queens, Suze Rotolo was the daughter of Italian working-class Communists. Growing up at the start of the Cold War and during McCarthyism, she inevitably became an outsider in her neighborhood and at school. Her childhood was turbulent, but Suze found solace in poetry, art, and music. In Washington Square Park, in Greenwich Village, she encountered like-minded friends who were also politically active. Then one hot day in July 1961, Suze met Bob Dylan, a rising young musician, at a folk concert at Riverside Church. She was seventeen, he was twenty; they were young, curious, and inseparable. During the years they were together, Dylan was transformed from an obscure folk singer into an uneasy spokesperson for a generation.

Suze Rotolo’s story is rich in character and setting, filled with vivid memories of those tumultuous years of dramatic change and poignantly rising expectations when art, culture, and politics all seemed to be conspiring to bring our country a better, freer, richer, and more equitable life. She writes of her involvement with the civil rights movement and describes the sometimes frustrating experience of being a woman in a male-dominated culture, before women’s liberation changed the rules for the better. And she tells the wonderfully romantic story of her sweet but sometimes wrenching love affair and its eventual collapse under the pressures of growing fame.

A Freewheelin’ Time is a vibrant, moving memoir of a hopeful time and place and of a vital subculture at its most creative. It communicates the excitement of youth, the heartbreak of young love, and the struggles for a brighter future.


PRAISE

Advance Praise for A Freewheelin’ Time:

“Suze Rotolo and I must have crossed each others' paths countless times on those downtown New York streets during the post-Beat years when the area was a Mecca for the young and the quirky and the gifted. This was a magic era. Now the last of its funky monuments are being leveled by condo-ization, but its spirit persists strongly in Suze Rotolo. What a wonderful kid she must have been—brave, openhearted, keenly observant and preternaturally wise, able to rise to the challenge of loving a genius like Bob Dylan and knowing when to let go. I'm glad I finally got to meet her in these pages.”
—Joyce Johnson, author of Minor Characters

“Suze Rotolo digs hard and deep. Then she strolls, frets, and paints a gorgeous picture of a singular place and a time that was simpler but all tangled up. Best of all, she’s a natural writer who puts the beguiling voice, skeptical brow, shining eyes, and conductor’s hands I know right before you on the printed page. What’s her secret?” —Sean Wilentz


"A welcome, page-turning perspective conspicuously absent from the plethora of books on Dylan and the folk era of the 1960s: that of a woman witnessing it all from its cultural and political epicenter." —Todd Haynes, screenwriter and director of I’m Not There


“There have been a lot of books written about Greenwich Village in the sixties,and I've probably read all of them. What makes Suze's story so special is that she grew up in this neighborhood and she still lives here. She knows these crooked streets intimately, and they know her.” —Steve Earle


ABOUT THIS AUTHOR

Suze Rotolo (aka Susan) is an artist who lives in New York City with her family.

youtube full link for following video of bob singing tomorrow is a long time to a collage of photos of suze and bob




pics by don hunstein






Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/11/2008 06:15AM by jackobob.

Gorgeous youtube find, thanks Jack

After all those cover versions kicking about over the last couple of weeks, some well worth hearing as well I have to say, but I still think Bob has the edge on this song.

Thanks for the link

This beautiful, intelligent woman helped shaped the Bobby we know and love, but didn't want to be just "another string on his guitar." The press will pounce on the tacky personal stuff like the aborted child, but I expect this to be a very interesting book from a very interesting woman.

The book will be out very soon (if it isn't already), here's a really good article about it (imo):

[www.latimes.com]

Its been on order with Amazon for Months.I really want to read this.........I have always held a deep respect for Suze.........I met her once in ridiculous circumstances in Perugia.she is a wonderful person.

[quote GilpI have always held a deep respect for Suze.........I met her once in ridiculous circumstances in Perugia...[/quote]



go on.

I'll have to spend a bit of time on that Jacko.......my meeting Suze lasts about three minutes of a 2 Month Saga of Fear, Loathing and eventual 'don't give a fuckness' about life and its meaNINGS....TWAS A TRIP. i'LL POST IT, WHEN i CAN GET MY HEAD AROUND A CLOWN.

Thanks for the link, apr24, my appetite is even more whetted than before...

Way back,maybe 25 years,I was working in England,spent most of my working life in England and enjoyed 80% of it.but then again I drank in The Irish community and my neighbours on all sides were Muslim so it wasn't often I met an Englishman......and I might add.The Muslims I knew were GREAT.apart from the one who did try to behead me...another story for another day,........I had a lot of English Students.they were pretty fine too.
Anyways..in the Pub I used there was a HUGE Irishman called Murphy aka The Horse. He was truly huge. He would buy the biggest pristine white shirts imaginable and his wife Kaen would still have to put Panels in the back, otherwise at funereal masses,when the emotion got the better of him, he would breathe in deeply to sigh, and a button might take a priests eye out.
There were a few one eyed Priests where I lived.
Anyways,as happens in life, Karen took a fancy to me.......I did say this was many years ago when I had hair, teeth,slate grey eyes that didn't need magnifying,a pot belly you could put in a thimble and a confident air.
But alas, Karen was doomed..I was deeply involved with another mans wife....it was a shell marriage they had,so guilt was not a factor. So Karen and I never did get it on.despite her turning up at my door in the middle of the night naked under a fur coat..I,GALLANT, gave her a cup of Cocoa, smacked her bottom and put her in the spare room.
Summer came and as The Horse could not read nor write, but drove an immense Articulated Lorry and relied totally on Karen to go with him on long haul journeys and do the paperwork,he was facing starvation on many fronts. He didn't know that she was leaving him.she found another guy, Irish, called The Foal........and she refused to go with him on a long trip through France, Spain, back through France,Italy and back to the UK. She said she was 'ill'.
To cut a very long journey short......he asked me,remember we had long summer holidays' if I might care to go with him.given that my Mistress was in France camping with her family I jumped at it.
Off we went.and many a jolly time we had.. Spain was a trip in and a trip out.France was different.we had to unload and reload in different places. Let me caution ye all now......do NOT drink a bottle of Nuit St Georges that is over 20 yeaRS old.
The reason is very simple...........one night we had to pull up next to a never ending field of Vin de Grape........and we fell to sleep...I will say of The Horse that he never once took a drink whilst driving.but on our stop overs he would make Bachus look Babyish....and he would not resume driving till the last fume was expelled from his nostrils.
That early morning in Nuit St George stays with me.........I awoke, leapt, like a leapord from the Lorry and made my movements with a satisfactory grin, and using an old road map,cleaned my regions............with........yes.....regions......I believe Bulgaria became Vulgaria thaT beautious morning.
And then to my horror I came across the Horse,in the same field of Grapes......never ending it seemed to be, doing his dung,and the only difference between The Scot and The Oirish was? The Horse wiped his arse with a huge bunch of Grapes......AND left them hanging on the vine.........Lord have mercy.
We tooted on down through France and through Mont Blanc Tunnel....we were headed for a place called Fabriano....but we had a lot of time, so we stopped off in Rimini...this was the start of myself and The Horse grating.
I did point out that if we went to Florence then a whole different world awaited......but The Horse,rightfully, being The Horse, said.'fekk yer pikktewrs,its Tits on a beach for me'.
So we stayed in Rimini.a dreadful place, for a week, at least I did swim,one night, drunk as a skunk, in The Adriatic......I can't swim.
Eventually, and to my surprise, we headed down the coast to Ancona..what a dreadful drear place. I say to my surprise because The Horse had never been this way before and I was the Map Reader.
Finally I got us to Fabriano where, I am told, they make Washing Machines..........except the good workers of Fabriano were on strike./and I supported them fully and joined their Picket Line...............but,we were now out of money,and had no load to bring us home. And I was due back at work in three days...impossible.
We sat in a small bar and talked about the situation.it was NOT good. We had 200 miles of Deisel and enough money for a crate of Beer for me and an egg for The Horse....Oh I was so much younger then.
I speak minimal French and No Parliamo Italiante...but the rudiment of Latin via Church and School remain.
Taking virtually the last of our money I got the Italian version of UK Yellow Pages and,having worked out Camio et al I started Phoning...it seems there was a full and general Truckers strike in Italy.
I hate myself for this, but I finally got an office in Padova who would give us a Cash advance if we could get there in 24 Hours
Well that was a start. And I admit that I stole a full Carton of Dutch Beer from another Artic in the night.
I was the Map Reaser...and it was I who said 'A left.A LEFT,take a fekkin LEFT' and so we did...up and up and up a winding hill.....and it was strange, no vehicle came behind us nor towards us.....and so we drove in, all 35 Tons of us..into the City of Peace..Perugia...where...no vehicles are allowed,and that was evidenced by the fact that we had no where to go.
People flocked out,shrill and angry as Hens disturbed at their nestling.heads were shaked,volleys of curse words,all the more venemous for their incomprehensibillity,peaceful pious people risen to rage and ire at the big smoking Artic sitting, like a dumb beast in the square.
I calmed The Horse with soothing words.verily a Horse Whisper.........and got out of the cab and with haqnd signals, many pregos and 'fur fuck sakes please' I asked for ways out of Perugia.....eventually a man came up and in perfect 'English' he said that to go back down the Hill might be very dangerous.there was a small road down the other side.we MIGHT make that.......and then Suze Rotollo appeared..........I had no idea about her Perugia connection and to this day I don't know if she was still living there or just visiting...but she WAS that woman and flashed angry the minute she saw I knew who she was.but she was kind,she said we must get away quick because this was a NO NO in Perugia..and she gave us a great smile when we climed back in and started up...I leaned out oft he window and started to sing 'Tomorrow is a long time' and she said, so is yesterday, smiled, scowled and was gone.
We followed the mans path and came to a bridge.....it was touch and go if we could get under it...we did....and lost 6 feet of smoke stack.
We got our load and a HUGE amount of money for running Pirelli stuff,we had strange things with customs....I was a week late for work......I saw a guy die when he crashed his Petrol Tanker down a slope, I saw our trailer brakes on fire as we went down Mont Blanc,I threatened to take Customs and Excise to Court because they demanded we reversed into a bay, which was too small for our wagon...I won and we got home.....and I got a Bollokin and I still don't drink Nuit St Georges.............but I spoke to Suze Rotolla.and one day I would like to go back to Perugia.
P.S.
On the way down Mont Blanc The Horse, who had been phoning Karen constantyl.and getting no answer...I knew she had trotted off with The Foal..began to suspect me,so he started playing silly games.......swerving,very close to the edge..I am an exestentialist,so though I was angry,I wasn't 'feart'.....nor was he till the breaks went on fire.
It was a very hairy journey down the Blanc.and I was delighted when we cruised...no engine on...into a French Town called......Camion (?)
Suffice it to say we pulled up and The Horse told me we were in for a treat.money in pocket we entered a Cafe/Bar.
The woman who ran it,on her own I think, was definitely from a Dylan song...she was absolutely stunningly beautiful in a care worn, sweaty, greasy tired way.
We placedour orders and the Horse told me he had stopped here many times and he thought the woman fancied him,but with Karen around............anyway would I do the honours and introduce them and express his desire to see her on his next trip through.
Oh the meal was good and she WAS beautiful..........and after it was paid for I spoke to her.
The slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap she hit him was a wonderous schlaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap.
And so we drove on to Calais and The Boat.....it was only when we got back home and were seperated by 15 miles,did I tell him that I had to;ld her that hye had often stopped in this Village and wondered if there were some small Blonde Boys to hire.
Poor man..he came home to an empty house.....but, he met a lovely woman who explained to him.......if you have a Lorry, get someone else to drive it.get a Fax and (he got me to Pass his HGV for him.I owed hyim) and today he is rich and I am poor.but I met Suze and he had no idea.

brilliant.

loved the story.

Thank Ya Jackonbob,Apr24 and Budda.sure was a strange old time.

Quote:

ragged_clown
This beautiful, intelligent woman helped shaped the Bobby we know and love, but didn't want to be just "another string on his guitar." The press will pounce on the tacky personal stuff like the aborted child, but I expect this to be a very interesting book from a very interesting woman.

agreed.

suze is thoughtful, intelligent and insightful.
she directly inspired many of the best of bob's love songs and "protest" songs from his great early albums.

More importantly,under enormous pressures,she was and remains her own self.never bought into the star fekker bit...which is why I have such a high regard for her.

Hey Gilp.... when did Dean turn up in that story? Why not????
All it needed was a subterranean Dharma bum... or was that you? ;)

Quote:

alias
Hey Gilp.... when did Dean turn up in that story? Why not????
All it needed was a subterranean Dharma bum... or was that you? ;)

I knowq where yer comin from.I had a Desolation Horse on my hands.and then I nearly got decapitated.....mind you.The Horse was SO big people did, in their Irish accents, call him Big Sur.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”

Movin I was always movin and somewhere in Kentuckyt, weary and tired and hungry I looked inside a Cafe and I saw the miners,black and sweaty in the grime of their holy coal, and I looked in the window and saw the flash of their teeth,like Minstrels, as they ate.

“Offer them what they secretly want and they of course immediately become panic-stricken.”

I saw the best minds of my generation, destroyed by madness,starving, hysterical, naked......dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn, looking for an angry fix.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/09/2008 01:51AM by Gilp.

Dylan's mystery girl tells it like it was

Quote:

Sean Wilentz, a Princeton University professor and historian in residence at Dylan's official website.

I read that too.......strange.

I'll see your Howl and raise it (if you can ever imagine that there would be days like this)....



A Surprise for Little Bobby

It was little Bobby's birthmark today and he got a surprise. His very fist was lopped off, (The War) and he got a birthday hook!
All his life Bobby had wanted his very own hook; and now on his 39th birthday his pwayers had been answered. The only trouble was they had send him a left hook and ebry dobby knows that it was Bobby's right fist that was missing as it were.
What to do was not thee only problem: Anyway he jopped off his lest hand and it fitted like a glove. Maybe next year he will get a right hook, who knows?






Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/09/2008 12:12AM by alias.

wrong thread.

norwegian wood / 4th time around

Be a heavy drag for Bobbin Dobbin if he happened to be a muslim and won his appeal.

give this back to Suze

I'll keep it with mine.

[www.whosdatedwho.com]



Not aged very well, has she?

Yannose, hard as it is to resist.I'd rather be DATING Suze than Bob.

Not a flattering picture to be sure, but she's aged naturally.
Here's a better picture:
I'd be disappointed if she'd had cosmetic surgery and/or was sporting several layers of heavy makeup, etc.


PS - She looks like she's related to Todd Haynes!

I knew some boy would come up with the usual comment. This is why Suze doesn't give a fuck to see these so-called fans.

oh, and she has plenty of very fine company.

Quote:

Richard
I knew some boy would come up with the usual comment. This is why Suze doesn't give a fuck to see these so-called fans.

You are,of course, very close to Suze Richard?

an old familiar tune

Meaningless,I fear that does not even approach the question.but allows you to convey a coveted 'relationship'.....?

1 - there wasn't a criticism of what you wrote, rather the comment by alias. Which will now be construed as mere observation and not any sort of pre-pubescent misogynist put-down of an individual woman.

2 - that's an oddly formed "question". It appears to be a statement with a question mark following.

If the question is - are you "close" to Suze Rotolo? My answer is no.

Gimme a Hug Dickie.your a good fellow.