Paul Simon: My Surprising Story About Him And Charles Hamm (+Bonus);+ NEW POSTSCRIPT!

See the new postscript at the bottom—very short and very funny!

(For Paying Subscribers, Charles Hamm’s critique of Simon’s Graceland project is below the postscript.)

The late Charles Hamm (1925-2011) was a pioneer in the serious study of American music, as well as popular music here and in South Africa. He was a principled, outspoken person, who famously wrote that Paul Simon, by defying the boycott of South Africa in order to record the album Graceland (released in 1986), was simply benefiting himself and a few other stars, not helping in any way to end apartheid. (This article is below for Paying Subscribers.)

Another indication of Charles’s uncompromising personality occurred at a national conference of the American Musicological Society in 1995. We both attended a lecture that appeared to be mostly an excuse to advertise the speaker’s new book, with no clear or valid point. At the end, I turned to Charles with a puzzled look on my face, trying to think of something diplomatic to say. Before I could open my mouth, he said “I hated that talk!” He was certainly straightforward!

It was my pleasure to interact with Charles on a number of occasions. Somewhere around 1990, he recruited me to write the jazz overview for what was planned to be a 12-volume encyclopedia. Under the leadership of the visionary musicologist Barry Brook, and with the support of UNESCO, the project was titled Music in the Life of Man, later changed to Music in Human Experience. (It was never completed, but the Garland Encyclopedia of World Music is a major alternative.) I remember that ethnomusicologist Stephen Blum and rock-pop musicologist John Covach were also involved, and possibly another person.

After a meeting in Manhattan, Charles proposed that we all spend two days together at Dartmouth College, where he was a long-time music professor, so as to have plenty of time to discuss the details. He arranged for travel, lodging, and meals. At that time, it was a bit of an ordeal to get to Dartmouth (maybe it still is?). One had to get to Boston, then fly into Manchester, New Hampshire on a 10-passenger plane. From there we flew on a 6-passenger plane to Lebanon,N.H., which was about 5 miles from the campus. Charles put us up around campus, and he had me stay in the spare bedroom of his own house. He introduced me to his wife of the time, a white woman from South Africa, and he proudly showed me an LP album by his son, the virtuoso bassist Stuart Hamm.

After a day of meetings, we all were treated to dinner at a local restaurant, a large place with several rooms. As we sat around our table and chatted, a waiter came over and said “I have a note for Mr. Hamm.” Charles read it, and he appeared to be very surprised. He asked the waiter, “Who gave this to you?” The waiter said it was a gentleman in another dining room, but he had left. I asked Charles if I could see it, and to the best of my memory, here’s what the handwritten note card said:

Dear Professor Hamm,

I am the brother of Paul Simon. I attended Dartmouth and I’d like to say that I am a great admirer of your writings on South African music. I hope to meet you sometime.

Yours Truly,

Hymie Simon

As you can imagine, this note was the topic of our conversation for much of the evening. We wondered if this could be true, or if it was from someone playing a prank, and so on. The next day, I began the chore of returning to Manhattan. I had to leave alone, before the others, because I had a gig that night. At that time I used to play alto sax in addition to my usual piano, and I had my saxophone with me, in a case that had been colorfully decorated and laminated by its previous owner. So, I took the 6-seat plane to Lebanon, N.H., then boarded the 10-seater to Boston. There were only about three other people on that one. I was seated up front on the right, and as I looked around, a few rows behind me, across the aisle on the left, was—I’m not kidding—Paul Simon!

My mind was racing: What was Simon doing there, of all places, if not returning from a visit to his brother Hymie?! I was somewhat shy, but I was desperately trying to think of a way to tell Paul the story and to ask if he had a brother named Hymie. But whenever I looked in his direction, he pointedly looked away, clearly to say “Don’t bother me.” (I’ve since read that he has a reputation of not being friendly.) Also, he had seen my sax case, and I thought that maybe he was afraid I would ask him about a gig.

Just then, the man seated behind me noticed my sax and “You’re a musician? I’m producing a big festival in New Haven.” He unfolded a glossy season calendar. As I recall there were all types of music included, and maybe other arts as well. (It was something like the New Haven Festival of Arts and Ideas, but that started in 1996.) After a bit, I said “Maybe Mr. Simon would be interested,” hoping that this would get him talking. The producer went over and introduced himself, and Paul did look it over for a few minutes. The man came back to his seat behind me and told me that Simon had said “Thank you—a lot of my friends are on that schedule.” Just then, the plane landed, and on exiting I only a few feet from Simon, but he ran ahead of me and I had no chance to say anything.

Naturally, I had to call Charles the next day to tell him that Paul Simon had been on my plane. “That’s unbelievable!,” he said. We talked about this for a few moments. Then I said, “You don’t suppose that story is true? I mean, was that note really from his brother Hymie?” Charles replied, “Oh, no, I already found out what that was all about. It was a prank note from my colleague Jon Appleton. Just a silly joke from Jon.”

What??!!

What are the chances that the day after someone makes up a story about Paul Simon, he shows up on a 10-person plane in Manchester, New Hampshire??!! To this day, I am amazed at that coincidence.

POSTSCRIPT: Paul Simon does have a brother, a guitarist named Ed Simon. After I posted this essay, saxophonist Richard Tabnik, who is a subscriber, sent me this true story that happened on New York’s Long Island:

In the early 70s, I saw a coffeehouse performance of Paul Simon’s younger brother, Eddie. At one point , someone in the audience yelled out: “We’d rather hear your brother!” Ed peered into the darkness and said these memorable words:
“Ah, there’s a schmuck in every crowd…”

All the best,
Lewis

P.S. Jon Appleton (1939-2022) was a pioneer of electronic music, or what was once called “electro-acoustic” music—and a very funny man.