One of the first signs that Jimmy Carter was not your average politician came in January 1974. Already a Bob Dylan fan, the then-governor of Georgia was in the audience at Atlanta’s Omni Coliseum to see Dylan and the Band on their historic tour. Afterward, the musicians, promoter Bill Graham, and a few local music-biz associates were driven (accompanied by state troopers) to the governor’s mansion for an after-show gathering.
In the years that followed — both during his White House run and subsequent presidency — Carter confirmed his music-fan bona fides by hanging out with Willie Nelson, Aretha Franklin, the Allman Brothers Band, the Atlanta Rhythm Section, and many more, as well as hosting an all-star jazz festival on the grounds of the White House. In a previously unpublished interview conducted in February 2023, the Band’s Robbie Robertson (who died in August 2023) recalled that night, nearly 50 years ago, when he and his comrades encountered one of the most unusual politicians they’d ever met. Carter died on Sunday, Dec. 29, at the age of 100.
When we played Atlanta, we saw Phil Walden, who had managed Otis Redding and had started this company, Capricorn Records. A very cool Southern guy who pushed a button in my street-savvy awareness. He said, “After the concert, can you guys come to the governor’s mansion? We’ll have a nightcap and you can say hello and have a little bite to eat if you want.” Jimmy’s son Chip was also behind organizing the whole thing.
I’d only vaguely heard of Jimmy Carter. I’m from Canada. And during this particular period, the 1974 tour, there was something in the air about American politics that was not very inviting at all for a Canadian. People like Richard Nixon, I could tell from a mile away, “This guy, you gotta keep an eye on him. He’s not a good guy. And he’ll play with all the dirty tricks he can.”
Anyway, we go to the mansion, and I meet this governor. I talked with him for a few minutes, and I get a read on this guy, that he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. This is a good person. I could feel it. I could sense it. I felt so comfortable, within 30 seconds of being around him, that we were kidding around, making jokes and carrying on.
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And while I’m talking to him, I see [the late drummer and renowned partier] Buddy Miles in the background, coming out of the bathroom. Jimmy has his back to him so he doesn’t see this. But I do, and I think, “Whoa! Hello, governor’s mansion!” This is way hipper than any mansion I’d been to before.
They had it all going on that night. They had food [grits, scrambled eggs, and country ham, according to a 1974 RS article] coming and going, which was also very Southern. Bob and Jimmy had a little chat. I think he talked about Bob making a difference in his songwriting. It was a crowd of people you would never dream, in a million years, would be up in the middle of the night at a governor’s mansion, just having a good laugh and appreciation of work. I thought, “Wow, [the Carters] just go with it. It’s late, and everybody is enjoying everybody’s company. This is so beautiful. These people are OK.” Consequently, I left there with a great impression of this guy.
Jimmy didn’t try to be hip. That night he just said, “You know, sometimes you put on a record and it comes right through to you, it gets you and you feel it. And you carry that around with you. And sometimes you put on a record, and nothing happens. And when I put on your record, it was a good feeling.” That meant everything to me. [The Band’s Music from Big Pink and The Band would subsequently be included in the White House Record Library updated during Carter’s time in office.]
Coming from Canada, one of the things that I noticed in the Mississippi Delta, where this music grew out of the ground, is that when we played down South, there would be people of every age group. There’d be old people. There’d be young people. And everybody dancing. This was unheard of up north. But Jimmy Carter was a typical Southern guy who grew up loving music and he was as true as he could be as part of that world.
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Later, Lorne Michaels asked us to play Saturday Night Live. He had asked us a few times before. This was going to be the show right before the [1976 presidential] election. And I said, “I like this guy, Jimmy Carter, let’s do the show.” Lorne said, “You can do four songs.” And I said, “I want to do ‘Georgia on My Mind’ in hopes that Jimmy Carter becomes the president of this country.” And we did it. I sent Jimmy a note saying we were going to do that, and I got a sweet note back.
Unfortunately, when he became president, it became quite clear that he wasn’t very good at playing the “game.” The game of sucking up to this one or playing the game with that one or letting someone get away with some shit. Jimmy Carter didn’t have that sensibility. He was too true for that, and in many ways, that didn’t turn out great for him. Things happened while he was president that nobody could have seen coming or fix. I was sad to see that it came down on him and turned on him. He didn’t know how to play the game, and it came back to haunt him.
But he was a better man for it. As for his legacy, sometimes good overrules bad. You’d like to think there’s a possibility, somewhere, sometime, that somebody could do their job and not be a complete jive ass. Richard Nixon was so jive. Ronald Reagan was so jive. I didn’t believe a word he said. He was a bad actor. Jimmy Carter wasn’t an actor, and he didn’t want to be. He was so kind that you thought, “Oh, this can’t be real.” But it was real. He was actually a real kind, wonderful human being, and in politics they don’t make enough of those.
