Ian Anderson’s Gift to the Homeless
“If it weren’t for Ian’s initial gift of the license to use his music, and the power of his voice, we’re not sure if our program to aid the homeless would have gotten off the ground.” - Richard Stellar, Man/Kind Initiative founder
It is said that ‘you don’t want to meet your heroes’. In my case, and the case of thousands of homeless people in Los Angeles, nothing could be further from the truth. I met Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull, and he changed the direction of my life. Here’s how the power of music, especially when delivered through empathy, tolerance and commitment can change the world and launch a life saving crusade.
I remember it so vividly. It was the first week of the Covid lockdown. The streets and freeways of Los Angeles were near empty. It looked as if the Apocalypse had descended. There was a stillness and a foreboding of dread. All that was missing were the hordes of zombies. For some reason I was on the road, and exited the usually choked 101 Freeway at Laurel Canyon. There, where the off-ramp met the boulevard, stood a man. He held a sign that simply said ‘hungry’, displaying it to nobody but me. He looked at me. Defeated, shabby and alone. I looked away, as so many do, and continued on my journey.
That image and my empty response would be forever etched into me.
I founded a non-profit called The Man/Kind Project whose purpose was to fight systemic racism. We were slowly earning a reputation for staging awareness events that connected cultures. I had grown up in the entertainment business and was connected to some very powerful people. My second in command herself was a firebrand, a past Vice President of the powerful Screen Actors Guild and a very vocal human rights activist. Anne-Marie Johnson was the first person I called when I returned home. It didn’t take much pleading. We had to pivot and address the homeless situation that now begged for renewed urgency. Anne-Marie was on board, and in an hour we had a name to hang our campaign on. CovidKindness was born, and taking what little money we had in the coffers, we went to Costco and filled up the SUV with shelf-stable food.
My second call was in the form of an e-mail, and it would prove crucial to the success of our program. I interviewed Ian Anderson, the founder of Jethro Tull in Oakland during his Homo Erraticus tour in 2015. We sat and talked by the pool at a boutique hotel in Oakland, California. I remember telling him a joke about Bono and U2 that cracked him up. He was so cool - affable, talkative and engaged. I didn’t let on about how much of a fan I was, but I’m sure he smelled that rabid affiliation to his work and career a mile away. We also talked about some of the more obscure Tull songs. I don’t remember if I asked about one of my favorites, Crash-Barrier Waltzer from the Minstrel in the Gallery album. The song engages the relationship between a homeless woman and the cop whose authoritative bluster efforts to keep his street clear of the “drunken bums… who sleep here in the crowded emptiness”. It’s beauty lies in the undercurrent of empathy that Ian sings about from the viewpoint of a person who I imagined was also living rough on the street.
“and here slip I, dragging one foot in the gutter
in the midnight echo of a shop that sells cheap radios…
and there sits she, no bed, no bread nor butter
on a double yellow line, where she can park anytime…”
There was a phrase in the lyric that tore at my heart. The homeless woman was described as ‘some only son’s mother”. That heart breaking reference clinched it for me, and unlike Aqualung whose depravity was the bile of the outcast who drop-out of society - Ian’s ‘old lady grey’ was more societal victim than social menace. It was this song and these times that are witness to an explosion of homelessness in the United States that compelled me to seek Ian out again. I wanted permission to use ‘Crash-Barrier Waltzer’ as the theme for a public service video on the work we were doing for the homeless during Covid. I sought Ian out, and was able to connect to his son James. I pitched Ian in a desperate e-mail, asking for a provisional license to use the song, and including the voice over script that we were going to have a voice actor read - just so he knew we were serious.
I wasn’t prepared for the response which came quickly from James: “Yes, Ian says it’s okay to use the song, and by the way - here’s your voice over track.”
That was a moment. Wow, unbelievable. The voice over was sincere and well voiced. Ian has an unmistakable cadence when he speaks. His words gave life to our launch. We put the video together, using footage of us out there - in the streets delivering food. When we uploaded the video and released it, I made contact to as many Jethro Tull fan pages, blogs and podcasts that I could. Tull fans reacted. The video was shared, downloaded, embedded - and we were set. Because of that video, we connected to other foundations and non-profits that were doing similar work. We reached produce distributors who gave us fresh produce. We were contacted by food chains, donut shops and craft service caterers - all with invitations to pick up food that was destined to be composted. And of course, there were those responses from new supporters that said ‘wow, how did you get in front of Ian Anderson?’
I’ve met many of my heroes who made me wish I hadn’t. Ian Anderson didn’t disappoint. His voice, and the voice of other musicians and artists build bridges of empathy, tolerance and remembrance through their art. We need these bridges. We will build them through Rock4Roofs, and we will always remember the artist whose generosity launched the salvation that comes from a deep connection to the world around them. This is what music does, and this is who Ian Anderson is.
On September 27, 2023 Man/Kind board member and actor Elliott Gould will be presenting Ian Anderson with our first Founder’s Award. Ian’s generosity of time and spirit enabled us to be where we are today with over 60,000 meals distributed and a program that will see mobile shelters donated and delivered to those who are sleeping in doorways and on benches.