Since learning about Phillips more than a decade ago, I've seen him perform live twice, have studied his recordings, have educated myself on the rich history of folk songs and workers' rights.
His son Brendan lives in Olympia, Wash., and has started a band called Fast Rattler to update and perform songs from his father's songbook, Starlight on the Rails. I wrote a feature on them for a local magazine last fall and, as part of the research for that article, had the pleasure of speaking with Utah for about 45 minutes over the phone.
His voice was scratchy, his energy low. Not so much the lively jokester of a man I recall seeing onstage with such a profound mastery of humor and purpose. Still, he posessed a spirit so unquenchable, his stories were so enthralling, I nearly forgot several times that I was supposed to be conducting an interview.
Utah Phillips introduced me, and I daresay plenty of others, to the songs of the working class. It is through his songs and stories that I learned about the fearless labor agitators and the lives of folks like Joe Hill and Mary Harris "Mother" Jones. It was his work that first inspired my ears to prick up about the history of labor unions and the century-long plight of the working class.
Utah Phillips was a folksinger in the truest sense of the word: he sought out songs and stories that were made before he was born. He strove to prolong the tradition of oral history—the one not taught to us in our school books. Our history, the people's history, rather than that of the well-established ruling class. The history of the folk.
He was an historian and a humanist, tirelessly so, who believed in the collective power of community, of organization (one of our country's most powerful natural resources).
Utah Phillips talked about folk music as being a long river, and all the songs and stories of our ancestors float down the river to us. We can wade in the river, we can take something out of the river and use it as we need it. Then, when we're done, we return it to the river so that someone else can use it. Now that the man is gone, his songs and stories remain in the river, affecting us all.
Phillips passed away on May 23, 2008, from the complications of heart disease. He is survived by his wife, his sons Duncan and Brendan, and his daughter Morrigan. He was buried in Nevada City, Calif., on June 1, 2008.
