TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/110689/p76

Text File | 1992-09-23 | 5.8 KB | 117 lines

                                                                                ENVIRONMENT, Page 76

Troubadours for Mother Nature


A minstrel duo brings fun -- and fire -- to the ecology movement

By Charles P. Alexander


    As the performers take the stage, the audience crackles
with excitement. Before long, the fans are clapping their hands,
singing along and shouting for their favorite songs. One of
those old '60s rock groups now on tour? Not quite. The crowd is
old enough to be Stones fans, but these tunes are not about
getting satisfaction or spending the night together. Instead the
two guitarists are singing of spotted owls and acid rain.

    The scene is the Sierra Club International Assembly in Ann
Arbor, Mich., and the players are Bill Oliver and Glen Waldeck,
the poets of preservation and the unofficial troubadours of the
U.S. environment movement. All across the country, at
conferences and campfires and on campuses, the two minstrels
denounce development and pollution and plead for the rescue of
endangered animals. Their music never hits the Top 40, but many
a member of the Sierra Club or the National Audubon Society can
hum their tunes and recite their lyrics by heart. To thousands
of nature lovers, Oliver and Waldeck are to environmentalism
what Bob Dylan and Joan Baez were to the antiwar movement in the
'60s.

    Of course, singing about ecology is chic these days.
Superstars from Sting to Madonna have joined the crusade to save
the rain forests. But these big names are Johnny-come-latelies.
Following the tradition of conservation-minded singers like
Woody Guthrie, Oliver, 41, and Waldeck, 32, have been spreading
their message on the concert trail for more than a decade -- all
through the Reagan years, when environmentalism was on the
defensive and Interior Secretary James Watt seemed to be trying
to stamp out the movement single-handed.

    Oliver and Waldeck win over listeners because they are
entertainers first and crusaders second. Dressed in T-shirts
and sneakers, they mix humor with their anger, and fun with
their activism. In one number, Waldeck strolls around the stage
under an umbrella. The lyric: "I walk the shores of Lake
Champlain/ in the placid acid rain." In another tune, Waldeck
dreams of being reincarnated as a "big, wrecking ball" so he can
"crack down on condos." But fast-food executives would not find
the show especially funny. "Lay down your Whopper and your
fries," one song goes. "Save a rain forest, baby, before the
rain forest dies." That lyric is a pointed reference to the fact
that tropical rain forests are turned into pasture so that beef
cattle can be raised for export to the U.S. and that felled
trees become paper for hamburger wrappers.

    The audience generally gets into the act. Are there any
other performers who stir a crowd to let out coyote yelps? And
when Waldeck climbs up on a chair and incites Sierra Clubbers
to join the "Woodpecker Rebellion," they seem ready to lie down
in front of bulldozers.

    Sting may be a dedicated environmentalist, but has he ever
toured Alaska? Oliver and Waldeck have. Last year they, along
with fellow performer-activists Dana Lyons and Mavis Muller,
traveled through the 49th state in a Volkswagen van on their
Keep It Wild Tour, giving concerts from Anchorage and Fairbanks
to such wilderness outposts as Talkeetna and Girdwood.
Preaching preservation in a state where many settlers came only
to plunder the resources, they found themselves singing about
the evils of mining and trapping to audiences that included
miners and trappers. That made for some uncomfortable moments.
One night a big, burly Alaskan came up after the show and said,
"There's plenty of wilderness here. It's endless. Go home. You
don't know what you're talking about."

    Oliver and Waldeck have been in tune with nature for as
long as they can remember. Ironically, Oliver, who grew up in
Houston, is the son of a Westinghouse executive who sold nuclear
reactors to utilities. Oliver always respected his father but
early on was determined to follow a different career path. By
the fourth grade he wanted to be a forest ranger and was
learning to play the guitar. "I couldn't tell whether I wanted
to be Smokey the Bear or Chuck Berry," says Oliver, "and
eventually I found I could do both."

    Waldeck was raised in Philadelphia in a family that liked
to have music playing. Nicknamed "Tinker," he started with the
drums ("I was pounding out rhythms before I could sit up") and
learned guitar at 14. His father was a handyman and, in
Waldeck's view, a true environmentalist. A handyman is the
ultimate recycler, he says, who knows how to fix things rather
than throw them away.

    When Oliver and Waldeck are not on the road together, they
split up. Oliver now lives in Austin, and Waldeck's home is
still Philadelphia, where he moonlights with a local folk-rock
rhythm-and-blues band called the Roosters. Oliver spends many
nights playing with Austin's Otter Space Band and many days
presenting environment programs in Texas secondary and
elementary schools. "We want to pass on our ideas to
youngsters," he says. He also composes public-service jingles
for cities and towns. One water-conservation message was titled
"Please Don't Leave the Water Running When You Wash the Dog."

    Oliver and Waldeck are serious about what they do, but they
do not take themselves too seriously. In fact, they sing an
impish spoof of nature lovers to the melody of Under the
Boardwalk. The chorus:

    Out on the bird walk     At the crack of dawn,     Out on
the bird walk,     Everybody yawn.

But they are proud that their music is more than just
entertainment. Muses Oliver: "I want to look back on my career
and be able to say that I spoke my mind and had a good time
doing it."