Wahzinak's First Letter/ Killer Wants to Go to College

In prison, Salvador receives a letter from someone named Wahzinak, about whom I can find nothing specific (the letter says she lives "in the desert," but that could be metaphoric as well as geographic). She says she has "read [Salvador's] prison writings"-- Sal had become literate in prison and received his high-school equivalency, as well as being born-again.

Evidently, Wahzniak is also a person "of color," as she puts it, and she feels empathy for Salvador, saying that such folk "must keep fighting." Lastly, she hopes that "one day, I'll ease your hurt."

A fellow, nameless inmate now fills us in on some of the details of Salvador's progress in prison with the song "Killer Wants to Go to College" (Track 9 on Songs From the Capeman). He tells us that Salvador wants to attend college in "New Paltz," where one of the branches of the State University of New York is located. (He did, in fact, attend, double-majoring in sociology and philosophy.)

The inmate also says that in order to do so, of course, he has to be paroled. And this, he was, after his death sentence was commuted to life imprisonment by then-NY Governor Nelson Rockefeller in 1962 (the murders themselves were in 1959). But it was a later governor, Hugh Carey, who, in 1977, made Salvador eligible for release; Salvador attended college by day and returned to prison at night. 

The inmate continues that Sal wants "to go on TV." I am not sure this happened, although he was interviewed  at the time of his arrest. This time, the inmate says, the intent would be to promote his "book," evidently his memoir. He did write a book titled The Political Identity of Salvador Agron: Travel Log of Thirty-Four Years, which corroborates he was that age at this point and that he had therefore been in jail some 20 years by then.

"Make my life into a movie," the inmate imagines Sal saying. And yes, the idea of a TV movie was floated;  Salvador arranged for any money he would make to go to the victims' families. (I am not sure that the movie was ever made. In any case, today, there are laws prohibiting convicts from benefiting from their crimes.)

All of this attention has flustered the warden as well. He now chimes in, "This boy used to be on Death Row!" Indeed, when Sal was sentenced, he was only 16 and set the record for the youngest person ever to be sentenced to death in the U.S. No doubt, this was part of the argument for leniency. As was mentioned in "Jesus Es Mi Senor," everyone from then-First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt to the father of one of the victims had urged leniency before the original sentencing.

The warden worries that Salvador's "violence [will] return." He recalls that, during that earlier interview, Sal told the reporter, "I don't care if I burn; my mother can watch." (Why "burn"? The method of execution was to be the electric chair). 

We can understand one murderer dismissing, jealously, the amazing success of someone like Salvador. But one would hope that a prison warden would be proud that his "correctional facility" actually corrected someone! Perhaps he is of a different mindset, feeling that it is his job to keep the dangerous people caged. It's fine if they want to occupy their endless time with sports or reading or what-have-you, but to actually mature, see the error of their ways, and become "corrected"? 

Maybe... but then to achieve celebrity status?! Just because one is not being punished anymore does not imply that one's should be rewarded! Still, Salvador was a remarkable case-- to go from troubled, illiterate killer to well-adjusted philosophy student is quite an achievement.

"Salvador" might finally be living up to his own name.

Note to Readers: 

I struggled with the idea of actually researching Agron's case. I did not want such information to color or affect my discussion of the songs in the musical. However, this song alluded to a number of facts about Agron and I simply needed to know what they were, as seen above.

Some other information I discovered that was not revealed in the songs thus far:

1) Before his crime, young Sal got along so poorly with his preacher stepfather, he returned to Puerto Rico to live with his father. While he was there, his father's new wife committed suicide, and Sal was the one who found the body. He began acting out, and so was put in a vocational school. Eventually, his father sent him back to New York.

2) There, Sal joined a gang before the Vampires. But it was with the Vampires that he committed his murders. It was a sad case of mistaken identity; he believed his victims were the members of a rival gang they had arranged a "rumble" with.

3) Aside from his life story, Agron also wrote poems in jail, some of which were published by New York newspapers. 

Next Song: Virgil

Ten Years

Another relatively obscure song, unless you watch daytime television. In that case, you may recall Oprah Winfrey's talk show opening with this song a while back, written as it was in honor of the show's 10th anniversary.

The song begins in the second person, but with the same image that began "Call me Al": "You are moving on a crowded street." The next line recalls one from "What a Wonderful World," which spoke of how "The colors of the rainbow.../ are also on the faces of the people going by." Simon summarizes this as "Through various shades of people."

Despite the crowds and the sweltering temperatures, you are preoccupied with other matters; there is a "A story in your eye." What can you do about this?

Talking about it (on TV, maybe?) might help: "Well, speak until your mind is at ease."

"Ten years come and gone so fast/ I might as well have been dreaming," Anyone who has been married, or in a job, or having raised a child for that long can attest to this... as can other songs ("Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler on the Roof comes to mind.)

But the time has not always been pleasant: "Sunny days have burned a path/ Across another season." The image of the sun "burning" seems more in place with the early S&G cover "The Sun in Burning" than Simon's solo song "Was a Sunny Day," with its imagery of happy people and "birdies" twittering.

The line "A fortune rises to the sky" seems somewhat cruel, as if Oprah had become a billionaire just for the heck of it. I'm not saying she didn't, just that if you are writing a song in someone's honor you could phrase that observation more politely... or just ignore it. Then again, it may not be piles of money, but the other sense of "fortune": luck.

The next verse is more grim. There is a "an empty road," and "a shady river," images that could be either positive or negative..."When the sky turns dark as stone/ And the trees begin to shiver." 

But, luckily, "The grace of God is nigh... And that flash has never been forgotten." God's grace, rather than being, well, graceful, is seen as a "flash," as of lightning. Even if it is not harsh, it is certainly fleeting.

This surprisingly cynical song then grows more serious, and asks a question that is central to much of Winfrey's work: "How do the powerless survive?" Yes, she occasionally interviewed a celebrity, or gave away high-end gifts. But much of her show was concerned with asking guests how they had survived seemingly impossible situations.

He answers his own question: "A familiar light/ burning in the distance/ The love that never dies." While this love is eternal, it is not seen as divine; that sort of love was dismissed as a "flash" in the pan-- enduring in memory alone. This other, human "light," like is seen as "burning" like the sun-- it is "distant" yet constant, and therefore more reliable, in terms of helping "powerless" people themselves survive their ordeals.

The song is full of the imagery of heat and light. The heat in the first verse is oppressive, so much so that the "shade" in the second verse seems a welcome respite. Throughout, we have the imagery of the Sun "burning a path"-- we get the image of a ray of fire actually "blazing" a trail with its heat. Then the same word, "burning," is used to indicate the love that never dies, which inspires similar indomitablity in those who see its flame.

This is a bit... off. I see Dr. Phil as the one who seeks to cure by the cauterizing fire of intense honesty, while his mentor, Oprah, sought to heal by light, not heat. Perhaps our focus, in the phrase "A familiar light/ burning," we should be on the word "light," not "burning"... and maybe the word should have been "glowing" this time?

Then again, Simon could be making a point. Sure, we see Oprah's smile beaming from our TVs. But let's not forget, even if it is "distant," the fiery passion of her drive. Yes, to amass wealth, but also to simply help people. She could have stayed at the Jerry Springer level of talk-show discourse. She chose not to, and forced the industry to change to her vision.

Personally, I am not a huge Oprah fan, but we should give her her due. On the balance, her show did much more good than harm. If nothing else, she got people to read again with that book club of hers.

One last note-- Simon often goes for the perfect rhyme, and here there is abundant slant rhyme: fast/path, road/stone, life/light, season/dreaming/forgotten, ease/sky/nigh/survive/dies. It could be that this was a rush job, or that rhyme was less important this time, given the variety of topics Oprah covered over a decade. 

Next song: Rockabilly Music 

Richard Cory

Already, Simon has updated the words of Jesus, in "Blessed." Now he turns for source material to the poem "Richard Corey" (the original spells the name "-ey," Simon's version does not). The poem is four verses by E.A. Robinson (readily available online; just search the poem's name with any search engine) about a wealthy man who inexplicably commits suicide.

One may compare Simon's updated version to the original line-by-line at one's leisure. In fact, this might be a useful exercise for a poetry class. The instructor may then ask the students to update the original poem again for the new millennium, or to choose another classic poem to update.

Here, we will focus on the overall characters in the poems rather than the structure of the poems.

The major difference between Richard Corey and Richard Cory is in their demeanor. Mr. Corey is "a gentleman... "[who] was always human when he talked"... "and admirably schooled in every grace." The poem does not say he shared his wealth charitably, however.

His literary descendant, Mr. Cory, does give to "charity" along with having "the common touch" --but he also is a playboy who attends opulent galas, bribes politicians, is rumored to host debauched "parties," and is hounded by paparazzi.

Regardless, there is little difference between the reaction of the speaker in one version and the other. In Robinson's: "We went without the meat and cursed the bread... wish[ed] that we were in his place." And in Simon's: "I curse my poverty/ And I wish that I could be/ Richard Cory."

But, as the Beatles cautioned, "Money can't buy... love." For all of Mr. Corey/Cory's seemingly enviable lifestyle, he was depressed, and his life felt empty. In short, this life was substantial, but not substantive. Even giving to charity, the usual remedy suggested for the ennui of the idle rich, did not seem to give Mr. Cory a sense of fulfillment; both the poem and the song end with the same words, that Richard "put a bullet through his head."

Today, we might recognize the plight of these wealthy men as depression, or some other legitimate, non-discriminating mental illness, and suggest therapy and/or medication. But they are only fictional figments, meant to educate the reader that money cannot purchase happiness.

How many celebrities of all walks-- entertainment, politics, business-- have achieved the pinnacles of fame and finance they so earnestly sought, only to realize the barrenness of the landscape once they reached these peaks? Inevitably, they seem try to fill this emptiness with physical possessions and pleasures. And we all know the stories of these celebrities' subsequent declines, descents, even deaths.

And yet, we would each wear the T-shirt that says: "Ironically, I'm one of the people who could have handled winning the lottery." If it were me, the claim always is, I would not fall prey to those lurid temptations! I would pay my debts and support my family and community, but otherwise not change my lifestyle very much. I would certainly be happy enough not to feel like killing myself!

Simon's speaker agrees. His reaction to Mr. Cory's suicide is "wonder," but not examination. In fact, he immediately reasserts that he wishes that he could "be Richard Cory."

Simon frequently visits the subject of the individual on the margins, forgotten by society. But until now, this subject has been abject-- poor, homeless, abandoned. "Richard Cory" is Simon's recognition that the desperation of alienation can affect those at the top of society's ladder as well as those who have had the ill luck of walking underneath it.

In an interview, Simon tells the story of he and Garfunkel sitting and listening to the radio one evening. They are in a car parked on the street between their two childhood homes. The song "Sound of Silence" finishes coming through the speakers, and the d.j. comments that this is now the #1 song in America. Art turns to Paul and says, "I bet those guys are having the time of their life right now."

Simon has taken his own advice. He has never rested on his laurels. He has continued to challenge himself musically and artistically, attempting film and stage productions. And he has worked against oppression, started the Children's Health Fund, and been part of innumerable fundraisers over the years for dozens of worthwhile causes. While some of Simon's actions have been provocative and controversial, they have never been scandalous. For his work, he has been universally acclaimed and honored.

Richard Cory wishes he could be Paul Simon.

IMPACT:
The song was covered by Paul McCartney's post-Beatles band, Wings, on their live "Wings Over America" album. It was also covered by Van Morrison's early band, Them.

Next Song: A Most Peculiar Man