Phil Ochs arrived in Greenwich Village in 1962, the same year I did. As we say, I “knew people who knew him” and my former NYC roommate insists to this day that in fact we knew him. I hope it’s so, because today I continue to honor him.
Texas born and Ohio bred, Ochs died young. Alcohol, drugs and Bipolar disorder led him to end his life.
In 1969, while legions of unwilling young men were fighting and dying in Vietnam, Phil Ochs added his marvelous music to the cacophony. Most of his songs were directed at the world he lived in, but this one – surely his masterpiece – was a cry from the heart of American history.
Were he still here, he’d weep to know that today is the 241st day of the ninth year of the War in Afghanistan.