TIME: Almanac 1990/1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso/time/110689/p76

Text File | 1990-09-22 | 6KB | 109 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."