At the famed Olympia Theatre in Paris, cool concertgoers, unaccustomed to whole concerts by a single group, rewarded the trio at the end of each song with rhythmic clapping which went through the group like shock waves. In France they re-met old friends, too, like singer Hughes Aufrey whom they knew from the days when they were all appearing together at the old Blue Angel in New York; and they made new ones such as Françoise Hardy, top French singing star who looks a bit like Mary, and found themselves talking not in clichés but about personal truths, all the more moving because they had been arrived at by such restaurants, went to discotheques and bought clothes at Cardin, antiques at the Flea Market.

At the Eiffel Tower they struck up a friendship with some visiting school-children who taught them a song and in turn learned a game of folded hands in follow-the-leader fashion from Paul, all without benefit of an interpreter. Then Peter borrowed a pair of roller skates and took a turn about the plaza. To the children, they were just a few crazy Americaines: to PP&M it was one of the times of their lives.

England

They traveled at an exhausting pace, playing to capacity audiences in London's festival Hall, in the resort town of Blackpool ("gray, gray") and six other English cities. They shopped on Carnaby Street and in the stalls of Portobello Road, struggled with the left-handed traffic and admired the mod girls with their long hair and short skirts ("overwhelming," said Peter). Mary posed for a leading fashion photographer and Lady Caroline Codogan posed for Peter in a London art gallery. They met the Beatles in the same gambling casino where the old man had his day in A Hard Day's Night; and experienced the mystifying English reverence for the supercool. They abhorred the passive acceptance of class distinctions, and adored the luxurious old buildings and exquisite English countryside.

Japan

Peter observed the observers, characterizing the Japanese as "watchers and absorbers... not attention-getters as we are in the West." They met a young Japanese singing group called Peter, Paul & Mary, who sing their songs and imitate their beards-and-blonde style proudly; and the became Japanese food fanciers, especially over Kobi beef and Tempura (deep-fry as mother never made it.) Paul, already embarked on a second career of designing clothes, had a tailor make up one of his designs for the first time (a dress which his wife Betty subsequently wore to a White House party for U Thant), and enjoyed playing golf attended by lady caddies. The group went to Japanese nightclubs ("the most expensive in the world") and tasted a still postwar of "everything available at a price."

The geisha hostesses surprised Peter, who found himself spellbound in spite of himself (they don't talk until they have something pertinent to say, and then they charm you totally").

New Zealand

Australia

This leg of the tour included Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane Perth and Canberra. PP&M found the Australians warm and friendly and accepting of such exuberant behavior as Peter's climbing a tree on the main avenue because he was feeling good ("they just smiled up and kept going"). They look healthy, "like Californians only without neuroses," and are very outspoken.

At one concert Peter got the audience to sing "Rock My Soul," and the noise of stamping feet at the end of the song, a sign of high approval, woke up Mary's husband Barry napping in the dressing room, who thought a riot had broken out. Australians are just beginning to have a folk consciousness and kept requesting that the group sing Australian songs. They bought back Gary Shearston's "Sometime Lovin'," now on "Album".

Summed up Mary, "It's great to go abroad and see how different people live, eat different foods, buy native products. But the best, and saddest part, is making friends. Beautiful people. You get home and there's a Saturday night with nothing planned and you think how you'd like to see Tosh, or Tosh would like this, but he's ten thousand miles away. Makes you twice as lonely. Sometimes I wish there were one wonderful place where everybody we like would want to live so we could be together all the time."

On August 28th, 1963, 500,000 Americans of every color and background converged on Washington, DC and walked from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial in an expression of unity and will to preserve the rights of all free men. Prophets of riots and violence tried to discourage preparations for the march; few could anticipate the incredible aura of that day. Said Mary, "When you walk in a room where somebody has died you can feel the sorrow, or where there is frustration you can feel the anger. That day you could touch the hope and love in the air. It was breathable and intoxicating." Half a million minds projecting good will towards men had a power that subdued all opposition.

The March on Washington was just the beginning. That afternoon was marked by a sense of history; senators and congressmen were respectful witnesses to this unforgettable commitment by the people. Compared to what was to follow, said Paul, "It was the difference between performing at a USO club behind the lines and being in the trenches." Less than two years later, PP&M participated in the march from Selma to Montgomery, the state capital of Alabama. Upon arrival in Selma on the eve of the march they were escorted into a bus with the other performers under police protection. The group was transported to a mud field where 30,000 people were waiting - all of them Negro, most of them impoverished - to hear them perform. The sound equipment, however, had failed to arrive. PP&M manager Tom Law arranged to borrow some from the US Army, and two hours later the concert at last got underway.

Because of the shaky quality of the sound transmission it was necessary to sing very slowly and rhythmically, so the words could be understood, and the effect was magical. As PP&M, Dick Gregory, Tony Bennett, Nina Simone and 40 others talked and sang, the audience was transformed. Weeping and laughing, their open response made it mean more than a paid performance for the participants. "We were allowed to give more than an audience will usually permit performers to give," said Peter. After the concert, the performers went to a Negro bar and grill for dinner, the only place they were welcome. The entire situation was fraught with danger, and Mary, who was pregnant at the time, was concerned; "but were never happier." It is this kind of shared experience which makes PP&M's work meaningful for them, and which they feel keeps them together.

The following day on the road to Montgomery, they passed an all-Negro primary school. The children were forbidden to leave their classrooms, so they all put their hands out of the windows to wave and cheer the marchers. Even hecklers were too awed by the spiritual strength that pervaded the group to sustain their hatred. In St. Jude, a town outside Montgomery , a police official bowed his head during the singing of "We Shall Overcome," tapping his flashlight against his leg in time to the music.

As a result of their involvement in these events, PP&M were picketed when they gave a concert in Tulsa ("Communists Go Back to Selma"), a stink bomb was thrown in the theatre, and anti-PP&M articles appeared in Southern newspapers accusing them of provoking trouble. FBI men were present and there was real fear, but the group received a standing ovation from the audience. The Governor of Kentucky invited them to campaign in his state because of their attitude of affirmation rather than finger-pointing.

Having acquired respect in the South through their art as performers, they chose to use this influence there. Actions can be changed by legislation, but attitudes can be changed only with love. "We did not go to the South for the Negro. We went for people whose dignity had been violated, because we felt a violation to our own dignity. It was an act of self-preservation." 

 
Richard Kniss, Most Valuable Player on Bass