America loves to mythologize its heroes, its villains, and—most prominently—itself. We the People; land of the free, home of the brave; the infallible Founding Fathers; the melting pot; the self-made man—and more. And so it was with Woody Guthrie and his most famous song, This Land Is Your Land. It fits neatly within the American mythology of Manifest Destiny, the Homestead Act, the transcontinental railroad, and of hardy settlers with their John Deere polished-steel plow splitting the prairie soil to create a bountiful harvest. In these myths, the land was free for the taking, and no one lived there—except for the occasional “savage” that had to be eradicated.

As with any empire, the myths are instrumental in rallying people to the cause—and, more importantly, in distracting them from what is really going on. The myths are the curtain you must not look behind.

Woody Guthrie was his own Pretty Boy Floyd—the first folk singer, the first troubadour, the Okie outlaw, the authentic voice of the Dust Bowl and the working people. It was Woody bringing the largesse of music, song, and wisdom—eschewing personal fame and fortune in favor of truth and justice. Woody might be considered the first martyr of folk, his legacy cemented by illness and early death. Legends come more easily once the foibles of the human man are out of the way.

Woody was not one to let facts get in the way of a good story, but there does seem to be truth in the idea that he wrote “This Land Is Your Land” as a reaction to Irving Berlin’s God Bless America. In particular, he apparently found the rather jingoistic, flag-waving version made popular by Kate Smith disingenuous and irritating. His song was both a response and a corrective—so it’s ironic that it is now often presented in much the same manner as “God Bless America.”

Kids sitting around campfires singing about “this land is your land, from the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters” do not dwell on the parts about hungry people standing in line at the relief office or Woody’s send-up of private property.

As Woody’s song morphed from protest anthem to quasi-national anthem, it was covered by nearly everyone. Joan Baez, Jimmy LaFave, Ani DiFranco, and Bruce Springsteen tried to infuse it with Woody’s original significance. Bing Crosby and Connie Francis—not so much. Apparently, Kate Smith never recorded the song, avoiding the final irony. Or perhaps the final irony is the universal embrace of the song by everyone—from flag-wavers to skeptics. Nothing is more deadly to a protest song than popular approval.

Ron Cooke is the author of a book of short stories and poems entitled Obituaries and Other Lies (available at Amazon); writes a well-received blog (ASSV4U.com/blog); and hosts a weekly radio show called Music They Don’t Want You to Hear on KTAL-LP in Las Cruces, NM.  He is also a founding director of A Still Small Voice 4U, a not for profit supporting arts, culture and community that presents folk concerts, sponsors artists, festivals and community groups. Ron is an avid cyclist, racer, blogger, sculptor and ne’er-do-well.