He talked more than he sang, often playing a single verse before stopping. “Y’know…” he’d say, reminded by his own lyrics, and then regale listeners with another tale of Steinbeck-ian Americana. I sat just a few feet away, grateful for the shade and breeze afforded by the un-walled tent, distant thunderheads mounting over the high-plains sunset. It was August 2004 in Greeley, Colo., and the late, great Woody Guthrie was captivating the audience that evening.
Read more at 5280.com