Harry Chapin: When In Doubt, Do Something

I was a young boy when I first heard Harry Chapin playing on the radio. Taxi, Cats in the Cradle, WOLD…all big hits on AM and the newer FM band.

I remember sitting on my bedroom floor in Story City, Iowa recording WOLD off the radio onto the RCA cassette recorder my parents had given me for Christmas when I was 10 years old.

There was something about his voice. His songs were stories, real stories. Sad stories.

At 17 I started working at the Ames Tribune as a photographer and occasional writer. I shot football games, basketball games, softball and baseball games. I shot photos of random people doing random things like shoveling snow or making homemade dolls and making stories out of them.

And I started getting press passes to go shoot concerts. I shot photos of Bruce Springsteen, The Beach Boys, Alice Cooper, Dan Fogelberg, Billy Squire, Crosby, Stills & Nash. I felt like a rock star getting access to these concerts, standing next to the stage shooting photos.

In August of 1981, Harry Chapin was scheduled to perform in Ames, Iowa. I applied for and was granted a press pass immediately. In the beginning of July, I asked the editor, Jim Potter if I could try to interview Harry Chapin when he was in town.

“I don’t know,” Jim said. “Call his manager and ask.”

“Me?” I asked. “You want me to call Harry Chapin’s manager?”

“If you want to interview him, you’re going to need to set it up with his manager.”

Jim helped me find the phone number for the manager. It was a New York phone number. I’m not even sure if I had made a phone call outside of the state of Iowa before!

I went to a desk and I called the number. I was nervous. 

“Hello?” A man’s voice answered.

“Hi. I’m Ron Chelsvig with the Ames Tribune. I’m calling to request an interview with Harry Chapin.”

There was a long pause.

“Harry doesn’t do interviews with the press.” His voice sounded gruff and annoyed.

“Oh.” I replied sheepishly. “I was hoping I could meet him.”

Another long pause.

“Who is this?” The manager asked, still sounding annoyed.

“I’m Ron Chelsvig.”

“And what paper do you work for?” He asked.

“The Ames Tribune.” I answered.

Another long pause.

“How old are you?” He asked. His voice was no longer annoyed but more inquisitive.

I cleared my throat, wanting to sound more mature.

“I’m 18.”

Another long pause.

“Look kid, we’ll give you a press pass. You can go to the show and take pictures. We’ll get you a t-shirt of something, okay?”

I was heartbroken but said, “Thank you. That would be great.”

With that he said goodbye and hung up. 

I told the editor what had happened. He saw that I was really disappointed.

“Well, you gave it a shot,” Jim said.

I went back to the desk, sulking and feeling sorry for myself. My heart was still pounding from talking to Harry Chapin’s manager though. That was pretty cool.

Ten minutes later, I hear the editor yell my name. “Ron, someone from New York City is on the phone and wants to talk to you. Pick up line #2.”

I sprang up and looked at the flashing light on line #2.  I picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Ron Chelsvig.

“Hi, Ron. Yeah, you just called to do an interview with Harry Chapin?” His manager asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day. I had you on speaker phone and Harry was in the office and overheard our conversation. He really does not like doing interviews with the press, but he told me to ‘Call the kid back and tell him I’ll take him out of a steak dinner before the show. He can take as many pictures as he wants and ask me any questions he wants. And I’ll get him that t-shirt..’ ”

I was stunned. I might have even teared up a little.

“Really!?” I asked. “That would be great! I can’t believe it!” I said.

The manager took my information and said he would send me whatever credentials I would need including where and when I would have dinner with Harry.

I thanked him again. Maybe a few times. He no longer sounded gruff or annoyed. He sounded happy. 

I hung up the phone and ran to the editor’s office. He was already smiling. I told him not only will I get to interview Harry Chapin, he’s going to take me out for a steak dinner before the concert!

I told everyone I knew that I was going to meet Harry Chapin and Harry was going to buy me dinner. I probably told random strangers. I was so excited.

It was July in Iowa and that meant one of two things. Kids my age made money “walking beans” or “detasseling corn.”

For clarification: “Walking beans” is a procedure of walking through soybean fields and pulling out every last weed. “Detasseling corn” is a procedure where one pulls out the tassel on the tops of each corn stalk for four rows and then leaving the tassels intact for two rows.

Doing either is hard work and long days, but the money was really good for a kid.

My sister and I were detasseling 10 acres of corn just outside Roland, Iowa that summer. Ten acres of corn is an enormous amount of corn for two people to detassel, though we were very ambitious.

On July 16, 1981 I was working alone, reaching up to every, blessed 6-7’ stalk and pulling out each tassel while listening to my little transistor radio. The reception was great since it was an FM transistor radio.

I heard the DJ play “Taxi” followed by “Cats in the Cradle” followed by “I Want to Learn a Love Song.”

I was so happy.

“I guess they are playing a bunch of Harry’s songs since he’s coming to Iowa soon.” I thought.

Then the DJ said words I could’t believe.

He announced the sad news that Harry had died in a car accent.

I just stood there in the row of corn. It is very quiet in a corn field. There is no air moving in a corn field. You could probably hear my heart beating. 

They played another Harry song.

I just held that little transistor radio in my dirty hands.

He was dead.

Harry is dead.

I knelt down in the dirt and cried.

In the end, almost meeting Harry Chapin was very much like a Harry Chapin song. There was joy and there was a sad reality.

I have told this story to many people in my life.

A few years back I looked up Harry Chapin on the internet and saw that his charity, “The Harry Chapin Foundation” was still operational. That day was a very cold, rainy day on the East Coast. I wrote an email to the foundation, telling them about the story of the 18 year old Iowa boy who had been promised a steak dinner with Harry.

Within an hour, I got an email back from the woman in charge of the Foundation. She thanked me for the email, saying that it brightened her day. She wrote, “It is such a gloomy rainy day today in New York. I didn’t feel like coming in to work, but reading your story about Harry reminded me why I do what I do.”

She said that she would pass my story on to Harry’s wife and family.

A few days later I received an email from Harry’s son, Josh. He told me he was moved by my story about his dad and that he was just 8 years old when Harry died. He wrote, “Lots of people tell me how terrific my dad was but your story really makes it all come alive. It made me smile to think Harry was listening in on your phone call and told his manager to call you back and set up a steak dinner.”

Josh was so little when his father died.

42 years ago today, Harry Chapin died in a bizarre car accident.

He was only 38 years old.

He donated money from every concert to help fight hunger, even if it meant he didn’t make any money for himself.

Please consider giving a donation to the Harry Chapin Foundation. It provides services for arts in education for children and commutes as well as agriculture and environmental programs. 

https://harrychapinfoundation.org/

When In Doubt, Do Something

-Harry Chapin