The Dylan Effect

The Dylan Effect

BY WENDY SCHUMAN

The young Dylan is the subject of a new movie. But the older Dylan, now a grandfather, remains a mystery we’re still unraveling.

“Come gather ‘round people wherever you roam

And admit that the waters around you have grown

And accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone

If your time to you is worth saving

Then you’d better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone

For the times they are a-changin’.”

If a song can ever be said to change lives, this might be the one. From the opening chords of Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’” in 1963, there was a tectonic shift in music and public consciousness. It became an anthem of freedom for millions of post-war Baby Boomers and war babies like Dylan himself. It demanded that the old world – parents, politicians, critics – pay attention. The youth wave was coming into power both in numbers and attitudes. It warned that if you can’t help, get out of the way.

The recent biopic “A Complete Unknown” recounts Dylan’s earliest years as an aspiring folksinger in New York City’s Greenwich Village. It has brought the incredibly prolific singer-songwriter, now 83, back into the spotlight, introducing him to young people with little knowledge of his music or influence.

To my generation, Dylan was a magnetic force. He burst onto the folk music scene at just the right time with his one-of-a-kind voice and razor-sharp poetic lyrics. Nobody had heard anyone like him before.

“I had a feeling of destiny,” he wrote, “and I was riding the changes.”

The poet-songwriter who would spur this revolution was a slender, intense 19-year-old from Hibbing, Minnesota, who had come to New York City in 1961 to become a folksinger.

A Small-Town Childhood

Bob Dylan was born Robert Allen Zimmerman on May 24 in 1941 in Duluth, Minnesota. When the boy was six, his father developed polio and returned to Hibbing where Dylan’s mother was raised. His parents, Abe and Beatty, were the children of Jewish immigrants in a small town in the frigid Upper Midwest. There were so few Jews in town that they had to import a rabbi to conduct Robert’s bar mitzvah. His father and uncles ran a furniture and appliance store.

Bobby, as he was known, was deeply into rock ‘n roll. But he also absorbed all the music he heard on his parents’ radio—Hank Williams, Johnny Ray, Grand Ole Opry, big band, gospel, show tunes, pop music, and, of course, folk music. He was a musical sponge, alert to every genre.

He formed several bands in high school, and in his 1959 school yearbook, he listed as his ambition “To follow Little Richard.”

In the summer he went to the Herzl Camp, a Zionist camp in Webster, Wisconsin, where he picked up guitar, piano, and harmonica. The novelist Sally Koslow, who is originally from nearby Fargo, North Dakota, went to Herzl Camp a decade later. She told me, “We sang Hebrew songs from morning ‘til night so perhaps they were an influence. We sang some of his songs, like ‘Blowin’ in the Wind,’ and the camp director would announce, ‘This was written by a former Herzl camper.”

His difficult relationship with his dad led him to seek other role models. In his memoir Chronicles, Volume One, he wrote of his father, “The cultural and generational differences had been insurmountable.”

The Wisdom of Dylan’s Grandmother

In a home where father and son were at odds, Dylan had an advocate in his maternal grandmother with whom he was very close. Florence Stone was an immigrant from Lithuania who lived with Dylan’s family in Hibbing. She gave him emotional support and words of wisdom at key moments in his childhood.

In his memoir, Dylan recalls: “She was filled with nobility and goodness, told me once that happiness isn’t on the road to anything. That happiness is the road.” When he was a teen, he called her “his one and only confidante.” “She’d say stuff like, ‘There are some people you’ll never be able to win over. Just let it go—let it wear itself out.’”

In college, Bobby Zimmerman had renamed himself Bob Dylan after the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (he originally considered using Robert Allyn, a variation on his birth name, but Dylan sounded better).

After a year at the University of Minnesota, Bobby’s parents said he could take some time off to give New York City a try. If it didn’t work out, then back to school. Clearly it worked out.

The Greenwich Village Years

Dylan made his way to Greenwich Village, the folk music hub of the world. He was determined to meet his hero Woody Guthrie, whose songs and autobiography, “Bound for Glory,” were a major influence. Woody, who was seriously ill from Huntington’s Disease, a genetic illness, was confined to a mental hospital in New Jersey. Dylan visited and sang Woody’s own songs to the dying man. The first folk song Dylan ever wrote was “A Song to Woody.”

Dylan, who had no income, was couch-surfing in the apartments of Village intellectuals and performers like Dave Van Ronk, and going to all the music venues—Gerde’s Folk City, Café Wha?, Café Bizarre, the Gaslight, and others. He would make the rounds, get some gigs, and pass the hat.

While staying at other people’s houses, he raided their libraries. As he wrote in his memoir, “I began cramming my brain with all kinds of deep poems. It seemed like I’d been pulling an empty wagon for a long time, and now I was beginning to fill it up.”

He wasn’t a songwriter yet. He sang the traditional ballads that others had sung before him but in a completely different voice and delivery that were uniquely his.

Pete Seeger took notice. Joan Baez took notice. Both these folk-music icons pushed Dylan’s career forward—Pete introducing him at the Newport Folk Festival and Baez inviting him onstage with him at her sold-out concerts. A young strawberry-blonde girl who was not a musician also took notice. She liked his harmonica playing. Artist and activist Suze Rotolo, the girl photographed with him on the album cover of “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan” more than 60 years ago, lived with him on West 4^th Street for four years. Their relationship inspired some of Dylan’s loveliest and most heartbreaking songs—“Boots of Spanish Leather” and “Don’t Think Twice.” Close friends of mine, who knew Suze, said she broke up with him because she didn’t want to be drowned in the tide of his celebrity. Suze was renamed Sylvie Russo in the recent film.

Opening the Floodgates

In 1962, the outpouring of original songs began. And when the Muse struck Dylan, she unleashed a deluge. “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “The Hour When the Ship Comes In,” “Positively 4^th Street,” “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” “Like a Rolling Stone,” “A Hard Rain,” and of course, “The Times They Are a-Changin’,” among many others.

Dylan has written more than 600 songs, released at least 40 albums. He is a torrent of creativity. He wrote in hotel rooms, he wrote in coffee houses, he stayed up late at night for fear of missing out on a song that might be coming through. He was like a scribe under orders.

Dylan himself said recently, “Creativity is a mysterious thing. It visits who it wants to visit, when it wants to, and I think that and that alone gets to the heart of the matter.” Arlo Guthrie once quipped, “Songs are like fish. You’ve got to have your line in the water. Just don’t live downstream from Bob Dylan.” (bold outtake)

In its list of the 100 Greatest Songwriters of All Time, Rolling Stone listed Dylan as Number One. (McCartney and Lennon were numbers two and three respectively.)

“Dylan has written more than 600 songs and released at least 40 albums. He is a torrent of creativity.”

His rebelliousness has only increased our fascination with him. As American Songwriter put it, “Whether it be scoring a reluctant grimace in the ‘We Are The World’ recording or going electric at the Newport Folk Festival—he has always walked to the beat of his own drum.” In 1963, he walked off the Ed Sullivan Show when he wasn’t allowed to sing his political satire, “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues.”

Dylan adamantly rejected the designation “voice of his generation.” He has rejected the category “folk rock,” or any other label associated with him.

Astonishingly, he even refused to go to Stockholm to accept his Nobel Prize in Literature in 2016. (He finally accepted it at a ceremony in 2017 during a concert stopover—but still…) He changes musical styles at will. Dylan is continually reinventing himself and showing different facets of his artistry. Accept him, don’t accept him. He is who he is.

Here is a portion of his heartfelt acceptance:

“I’m sorry I can’t be with you in person, but please know that I am most definitely with you in spirit and honored to be receiving such a prestigious prize. Being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature is something I never could have imagined or seen coming. From an early age, I’ve been familiar with and reading and absorbing the works of those who were deemed worthy of such a distinction: Kipling, Shaw, Thomas Mann, Pearl Buck, Albert Camus, Hemingway. These giants of literature whose works are taught in the schoolroom, housed in libraries around the world and spoken of in reverent tones have always made a deep impression. That I now join the names on such a list is truly beyond words.”

Patti Smith performed in Stockholm on behalf of Dylan

The Accident That Changed His Life

Martin Scorsese’s documentary “No Direction Home” shows the climactic European tour in 1965, which left Dylan exhausted and depressed. The nightly booing from the audience when he played his electric repertoire—he intentionally upped the sound level in retaliation—was clearly demoralizing. “I wanna go home,” he told his manager. Not long after, in 1966, he experienced a serious motorcycle accident and stopped touring for 8 years. The home was in Woodstock, NY, and later East Hampton and Malibu, where Dylan tried to hide from the world with his family.

After his romantic relationships with Suze Rotolo and Joan Baez, Dylan married his first wife, Sara Lownds, an actress and model, in 1965. He adopted Maria, Sara’s daughter from her previous marriage. The couple went on to have four children in four years, between 1966 and 1969—Jesse, Anna, Sam, and Jakob.

Dylan wrote in his memoir, “Having children changed my life and segregated me from just about everybody and everything that was going on. Outside of family, nothing held any real interest for me…My family was my light, and I would protect that light at all cost.”

He was an involved father. He writes about caring for his kids, playing with them, and playing music with them. “If they got into the pots and pans, we pulled all the pots and pans out on the floor.” He wrote the song “Forever Young” in 1973 while thinking about one of his sons. Many have said it’s like an Old Testament blessing for children.

“Marriage was a failure. The husband and wife were a failure, but the father and mother weren’t a failure.”

However, Dylan and his wife separated in 1974, and Sara filed for divorce in 1977. It was an acrimonious split, with fights over custody and money. Their breakup was reflected in the album “Blood on the Tracks.”

But in an interview a year after his divorce, Dylan said, “Marriage was a failure. The husband and wife were a failure, but the father and mother weren’t a failure.”

Dylan, as a Dad

His kids have praised his role as a father. Jakob, his youngest child with Sara, said that despite his parents’ divorce, they did their best to be good parents. “My ethics are high,” he said, “because my parents did a great job.”

He told the New York Times, “[Dad] never missed a single Little League game I had. He’s collected every home run ball I ever hit. And he’s still affectionate to me.”

Jakob’s older brother, Jesse, told the London Times, “My dad’s great. He’s a totally kind, wonderful man. He’s been nothing but supportive of me and my brothers and sisters.”

Dylan is in Jerusalem for the Bar Mitzvah of their son Jesse.

When Jesse turned 13, his Bar Mitzvah was held at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, and his father was there to support him, wearing Orthodox Tefillin. (After a brief period as a born-again Christian, Dylan returned to his Jewish roots in the 1980s.)

Dylan’s second marriage was to his backup singer, Carolyn Dennis, mother of his youngest child, Desiree Dennis-Dylan. The couple married in 1986 and divorced in 1992. Their relationship was a secret until a biographer exposed it in 2001. Carolyn wrote in a statement, “Bob and I made a choice to keep our marriage a private matter for a simple reason—to give our daughter a normal childhood. Bob has been a wonderful, active father to Desiree.”

The Lives of Dylan’s Kids and Grandkids

At 83, Dylan, like his fans, is older and mellower. He openly embraces the label of devoted father and grandfather. He’s the father of six children and the grandfather of 11.

Several of his children (most are in their 50s and 60s) are involved in music and the arts. Two have chosen to live very private lives.

Maria Dylan Himmelman, born in 1961 and adopted by Dylan, is a published poet, married to musician Peter Himmelman, a singer, songwriter, and composer. A very private person, she never comments on her family. She and her husband have four children.

Jesse Dylan, his first son with Sara, born in 1965, is a successful film director who has made music videos, commercials, theatrical releases, and at least one documentary. Jesse and his wife, actress Suan Traylor, have two children.

Bob and Sara’s daughter, Anna Dylan, born in 1967, has chosen to lead a private life out of the public eye.

Sam Dylan, born in 1968, is a photographer. He and his wife Stacy have two sons, the younger of whom suffers from severe Crohn’s Disease. Stacy started a foundation, Connecting to Cure Crohn’s and Colitis, and Jakob Dylan has played at fundraisers.

Jakob Dylan, his youngest son, was born in 1969. He is a highly regarded musician who followed in his father’s footsteps as a singer, guitarist, and songwriter. His band, The Wallflowers, garnered two Grammys. Jakob and his wife Paige have four sons.

Desiree “Desi” Dylan-Dennis, born in 1986, is an actress. On Dylan’s 80^th birthday, she posted on Instagram: “He’s my favorite writer, my favorite person to make laugh, one of the most brilliant yet most humble men I’ve ever known, and this world is quite lucky to have him.”

With this role model, Dylan was likely to be a supportive and caring grandparent.

‘World’s Greatest Grandpa’

In Chronicles, Dylan mentions that the New Orleans singer Sunpie gave him a “World’s Greatest Grandpa” sticker. Dylan comments, “This would come in handy in a few years when I would need at least about a dozen of them.”

How do his 11 grandchildren relate to their grandfather’s fame? They seem to think he knows everybody—even singers who preceded him by a generation! He recounts, “One of my granddaughters, some years back, who was about eight at the time, asked me if I’d ever met the Andrews Sisters and if I’d ever heard the song ‘Rum and Coca Cola.’ When I said I’d never met them, she wanted to know why. I said because I just didn’t, they weren’t here. She asked, ‘Where did they go? I didn’t know what to say, so I said Cincinnati. She asked me if I would take her there to meet them.” Another granddaughter asked him if he wrote the song “Oh, Susanna.” “She knows it and can sing it. She probably heard it on Spotify.”

One of Bob Dylan’s grandchildren, Pablo Dylan

Two of Dylan’s older grandchildren are already in the public eye. Levi Dylan, one of Jakob’s sons, born in 1994, is a model, an occasional musician, and an aspiring actor. He has walked the runway for Dolce & Gabanna and appeared in GQ Italia and Wonderland. Another grandson Pablo, Jesse’s son born in 1996, is also a singer. He had a brief rap career starting at age 15 before shifting to folk music in 2021.

One thing is for sure—Dylan’s descendants will be well provided for. In 2020, he sold his entire songwriting catalog–more than 600 songs over 60 years—to Universal Music Publishing Group for an amount estimated to be more than $300 million. For a guy who signed his first recording contract for a $100 advance, it’s a fairytale ending.

At 83, He’s Still Touring

Except for several years between 1966 and 1974, Dylan has toured almost continuously for more than 50 years. Writers have dubbed it “The Neverending Tour.” Most famously, he returned to touring with the Rolling Thunder Revue (1975-76)—Joan Baez, Roger McGuinn, Joni Mitchell, Ronee Blakely, and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott joined up at different times, all wearing weird clown makeup. The Traveling Wilburys, a supergroup formed by George Harrison with Dylan, Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, and Tom Petty, toured from 1988-1991. Sadly, Orbison passed away that first year.

At age 83, when most people have long retired, Dylan is still pushing ahead. He started the Rough and Rowdy Ways Worldwide tour in March 2022 to promote his most recent album. This year, he joins Willie Nelson and Billy Strings as part of the Outlaws Music Festival. It takes place from March through September. The Official Bob Dylan Site

Still Enigmatic After All These Years

With all that’s been written about him and by him, Dylan remains elusive. He refuses to be pigeonholed. He won’t allow others to define him. No less than five documentaries and fictionalized films have been made about his life and musical influence. The latest one, “A Complete Unknown,” has stirred enormous interest in his remarkable life. Endless books and articles and his memoir have combed through every detail. Some Dylanologists specialize in all things Dylan—and teach college courses about him. Yet he remains inscrutable, an enigma, a poet who speaks in swirling symbols. As he puts it in “Mr. Tambourine Man,” he creates his parade, and we can choose to follow.

Best Dylan Songs for Grandkids

These tunes—some touching, some playful—will have you singing together.

Forever Young
Tambourine Man
Blowin’ in the Wind
Shelter from the Storm
The Mighty Quinn
Man Gave Names to All the Animals
You Ain’t Going Nowhere
Girl from the North Country
Make You Feel My Love

Tangled Up in Dylan

Baby Boomers recall the songs and memories that impacted their lives.

Wendy Schuman: ‘Prophetic of a better world’

Seeing the film “A Complete Unknown” knocked me flat. Memories came flooding in. As a New Yorker, I was instantly transported to my teenage years. Greenwich Village in the 1960s, the narrow dark street piled with dirty slush, the neon lights of the folk clubs. I was only 14 when Dylan came to town in the winter of 1961. I lived uptown, less than a mile from the Village, and a few years later, I went to the clubs with my date, a guy who played bluegrass banjo and was obsessed with Pete Seeger.

I grew my hair long like Joan Baez (except I had to iron and straighten mine). I wore black turtlenecks and learned to play a few chords on an acoustic guitar that my parents bought at a pawn shop. Hey, A, D, Bm, C, and G got you through a lot of songs!

The Dylan songs I learned were from covers by Peter, Paul & Mary. Their close harmonies were pleasing and attuned to my soprano voice. “When the Ship Comes In” was my favorite, prophetic of better world. Later on, when I heard Dylan’s versions, his defiant, angry tone came as a shock. It was years before I appreciated the raw emotion.

Fifteen years ago, I finally heard Dylan perform in person at a local baseball stadium. The audience expected to hear at least some of the songs of our youth, but he played versions that were unrecognizable. It was Dylan being true to himself.

Nancy Toes: ‘He understands a certain kind of pain’

In 1973, I was in college. I was a bigger fan of Dylan than the Beatles. I really like the lyrics of his songs, the poetry of his music. “Shelter from the Storm”–that’s what I feel his music is about. He has an understanding of a certain kind of pain, he connects you to that. You’re heard. Someone else is experiencing that. His music is shelter from feeling alone. That song might be about the divorce from his wife. His wife did all that, took care of his needs, and he took it for granted. And then he leaves. She was providing that shelter—but he realizes it too late.

“Blowin’ in the Wind” was tied into my upbringing as a Catholic. A strong appeal with the anti-Vietnam war. Young men coming out of helicopters on stretchers, in caskets—his song was like WHY? He tapped into exactly how you felt. There is no answer. He’s giving an answer but he’s ambiguous. All good artists have ambiguity. I like that in any writing. What appeals to me is not being didactic. You’ll find the meaning yourself. I believe him when he says he doesn’t know how he writes it. He captured that adolescent angst. You cannot make sense of this world.

Gina Griffith: ‘My mom was a bit of a peacenik’

I am partial to “Blowin’ in the Wind” because it brings back memories of attending Catholic Mass with my mom and sister when I was around 12 (folk masses at Newman Community at Montclair State!). My mom was a bit of a peacenik. And I love “A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall” because I had a crush on a boy who sang the song relentlessly in the Summer of ‘72 when I was 15. Sigh.

Gary Kesner: ‘His mid-‘60s songs were the most impactful’

Instinctively, I would say, “Like a Rolling Stone.” It is infectious. But it is really hard to pick a favorite—how can you say which is better, “All Along the Watchtower,” “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “I Shall Be Released,” etc. I think his mid-‘60s songs were the most impactful. Those songs were reinterpreted by many different artists, yet all sounded special.

Peter Meyer: “A chance meeting in the Hibbing library”

1965: Destiny, many letters seeking summer employment, and my Ford Falcon took me to Hibbing, Minnesota, after my junior year at Cornell to work for Bechtel Corporation. Hibbing, the center of the rugged Mesabi Iron Range, not far from Minnesota’s wilderness area, was the location of the Hull Rust-Mahoning Mine, the world’s largest iron ore mine. It was also where Robert Zimmerman, aka Bob Dylan, grew up.

After a day of work, I went to the Hibbing Public Library to read the New York Times to catch up on the world beyond Hibbing, and maybe meet some women my age. Well, I did meet a person of interest. No targets in sight, I grabbed the stick with the most recent Sunday Times on it. As I read my way through the various sections, I sensed an older gentleman reading over my shoulder. He told me he was looking for a review of his son’s recent concert. I was curious and continued the conversation.

It turned out to be the one at Forest Hills Stadium, packed with 15,000 people, where Dylan was booed by an angry audience for going electric. Times reviewer Robert Shelton had written, “Facing a rude and immature audience, Bob Dylan gave a program Saturday night at the Forest Hills Music Festival in Queens in which he was a model of patient composure.” I don’t know what Mr. Zimmerman thought, but maybe being a merchant selling appliances, he must have been proud of his boy for selling out the Stadium, doing what he thought was right, and maybe for keeping his cool.

Charles Salzberg: ‘My best friend and I walked out’

Two memories. The first was my freshman year at Syracuse. I’d just turned 17, and the first concert I attended was Dylan’s CORE concert–he appeared alone (I still have the program), and I remember him singing “Who Killed Davey Moore.” A week or two later, JFK was assassinated. Two years later, in 1965, a big folk fan, I attended his concert at Forest Hills Stadium with my best friend. The first half was fine, but when he came out after the break, he arrived with a “band” (it was later to be called The Band–Al Kooper was one of the musicians, but the others included, I believe, Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson. When he started playing electric, there were boos, and my friend Elliot and I walked out. Within a year, of course, I was back as a big fan. And then, some 50 years later, he appeared again at Forest Hills Stadium. I bought tickets, returning to the scene of the crime, and from way, way back, I stood up and apologized (not that he could hear me, of course).

Francesca Elms: ‘I wore a black armband and a scowl’

My favorites— “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” “A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall,” and “The Times, They are a-Changin’.” I believe they all came out during my adolescence and the Vietnam War protests. I wore a black armband and a scowl around the halls of Wellesley Senior High School, where our protesting selves were in the minority.

Keith Hagel: ‘The Dylan no-show concert’

Do you know about the Dylan no-show concert at Tufts on March 7, 1964? 3,000 people jammed into the ancient Cousens Gymnasium. Little to no explanation of what was or wasn’t going on. Finally called off probably around 9:30-10 p.m. We did eventually get a refund. Today might have been a riot. I never had any interest in going to another Dylan concert.

**Carl Bisgaier: ‘Only a Pawn shocked me’**

The lyrics to “Only a Pawn in Their Game” shocked me when I first heard them. I was only 20 and had a hard time comprehending how Evers’ murderer could be given a free pass as just the manipulated instrumentality of unseen political and oligarchical forces who really were pulling the trigger. It was over 20 years later that Paul Simon would reference “a loose affiliation of millionaires and billionaires”; the unelected government that essentially called the shots, so to speak.

During the ‘60s and early ‘70s, I actively participated in the antiwar and Civil Rights movements. I became increasingly disaffected by the currency and focus on the police and soldiers as the “bad guys.” I didn’t see our police as “pigs” or our soldiers as murderers. They didn’t seem all that different from me. By 1972, after sitting out the election, refusing to vote for Humphrey, and seeing Nixon elected and then the horrible aftermath, I had the shocking realization that I was, as we all were, just pawns in their game as well—being totally distracted from engaging the real forces behind the evils we thought we were fighting. It wasn’t the police or the soldiers or even the politicians. It was the one percenters who basically ruled and with whom we were not engaging at all.

Richard Hillman: ‘Moved by his poetry/music’

Moved by all his ‘60s and ‘70s poetry/music. Especially “Blowin’ in the Wind’ and “Like a Rolling Stone.”

John Azlant: ‘Better than Elvis’

“Can’t Help Falling in Love.” An Elvis song, not one that Dylan wrote. But he did cover it. I like his raw version versus Elvis’s smooth.

Barry Glickman: ‘Listen to the lyrics’

“Positively 4th Street” and “Tangled Up in Blue” are two tracks that make me turn up the volume and listen to the lyrics. Songs like this cause one to ask if he’s a poet who writes and plays music or a musician who writes poems.

Ginny Stahlman Crooks: ‘I taught it to my class’

“Blowin’ in the Wind” had so much meaning to me. When I was a kid, one of my older sisters had the Peter, Paul, and Mary version, and I learned it by heart without even trying. My 7th grade teacher asked if anyone knew this song, and was the only one, so I taught it to my class. I didn’t even know at the time that Dylan had written it!