The word troubadour comes from the 12th and 13th centuries and refers to the lyric poets who roamed between the courts of southern France and northern Italy, singing songs they had composed in complex metric forms, songs that were musical commentaries on the times.

The “Hudson River Troubadour Project” was a major landmark in McLean’s early development as a singer and performer. In 1968 the New York State Council on the Arts decided to engage a musician to walk the entire length of the Hudson River, singing three concerts in three river towns each day, over a period of about six weeks. The arts council wanted to provide summer entertainment for local families and kids. They envisioned a troubadour, dressed as jester, an all-around singer and entertainer.

McLean had recently graduated from Iona College and was a regular singer at Caffé Lena in Saratoga Springs. The State Council on the Arts approached the club’s owner, Lena Spencer, and asked her to recommend a performer to serve as the Hudson River Troubadour, and Lena suggested Don.

Don McLean at Caffè Lena. Photo: Joseph Deuel

It seemed like a great opportunity and not much like work. Don was immediately interested, but one thing was certain: there was no way he would dress like a clown. When the council sent him a costume, he threw it in the incinerator. He had a clear idea of who he was and what he would or would not do. That had not changed since he was fifteen. But, with zero dollars in his bank account, McLean needed the job. He accepted without delay, and when he met with the arts people he told them what he had done with their costume and announced that he would turn the project into something more educational. In each town he would sing and talk about pollution and the environment and the history of the Hudson River.

He set about learning as much as he could about the Hudson River, getting books from the library in Cooperstown, N. Y., and talking to a lot of interesting people. The arts council got more than a New York State Ronald McDonald.

To begin his trek, McLean was flown to Mount Marcy where the Hudson River rises from Lake Tear of the Clouds. As soon as he arrived, he headed for the general store with a guitar and a banjo. The locals were noticeably quiet. McLean says, “At that time, country folks, no matter where they were in America, were uniformly opposed to long-haired, guitar-playing kids.”

Don took out his instruments and began singing. He soon had his small, stiff audience singing along with him. Then he spread the word that he would be giving a show at the local beach. This became his standard procedure in every town he visited. The state took out ads in the local newspapers, giving his schedule, and McLean did occasional radio spots. He gave three performances a day, in three different towns. He sang in every town along the river, from Mt. Marcy to Riverside Park in New York City.

Don McLean with Pete Seeger in 1969

Don loved the singing, but he endured a sketchy relationship with the arts council reps. They were unhappy when he refused to sing if no one was there. He told them, “I don’t mind a small crowd, but I won’t sing to nobody.” Because he wouldn’t take orders, the council decided to bring in a new singer to replace him. The new recruit arrived as Don was singing to a group of drunken poker players. He and Don sang some blues together, but the guy quit when he realized what the job entailed. He said that no singer in his right mind would do that job, after all, someone had been killed in that same park the previous day. By the time McLean reached Newburgh, toward the end of the summer, council members had to admit that what he was doing was working well.

The Troubadour project was a great success. It gave McLean excellent publicity. CBS did a piece on the “Hudson River Troubadour” for the evening news, and local papers in every town along the Hudson River, including New York City, had front-page articles about his appearances. Even the Wall Street Journal mentioned him on page one.

The project enabled McLean to avoid Vietnam for a year, and he was eager to skip that experience, altogether. He discovered that if he took a “cultural trip” the summer following graduation, he would qualify for an automatic deferment until the fall. This may have been why a large number of Americans went to Europe to soak up some culture immediately after graduation. While he was the Hudson River Troubadour, McLean received a lot of draft notices. Then, all of sudden, a light went on in his head. He thought, “Well, my God, I’m a one man cultural tour.” He called, his contact with the New York State Council on the Arts, and said, “These guys are going to draft me. Why don’t you ask John Hightower [head of the New York State Council on the Arts] to see if he can get me a deferment?” And sure enough, they did.

McLean had no interest in killing or in being killed, and that critical summer gave him time to think about ways to avoid the situation. He hoped that his asthma and the fact that he was the sole support of his mother would help.

On August 12th, 1970, he went for his Army physical. He had all the paperwork necessary to prove that what looked like a perfect male specimen was, in reality, a broken-down shell of a man. The experience reminded him of some kind of cattle auction or slave sale. The draftees were given a choice of lines to stand in with their paperwork. McLean instinctively chose the line with a young doctor. When the doctor looked at his paperwork, he said, “You’ve claimed quite a few things here. Can you prove any of it?” Don provided the letter from his doctor about his asthma, to which the doctor replied, “OK, you’re out.” He was out! Those were the most beautiful words he had ever heard. He still hears them, from time to time. When he boarded the bus for home, he noticed that he was the only guy on the bus.