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Why did Bob Dylan lie about his childhood?
Myth-making has always been a part of music. Throughout history, artists have always taken on characters or exaggerated parts of themselves for their public persona. But in the case of Bob Dylan, that tipped over into an outright, bald-faced lie.
For a long time, Dylan told the world that he’d had a troubled childhood. According to the singer, he was a social outcast from his early years, running away from home along with all its normalcy and conformity. He struck out on his own, seeking out the weirdos and freaks he felt a kinship with. His story was that, by 13, he was a runaway kid with the circus, hoping for the world’s adventures to open up in front of him.
“I was with the carnival off and on for six years,” Dylan told Cynthia Gooding in one of his earliest recorded interviews. “[I was doing] just about everything. I was a clean-up boy. I used to be on the main line on the Ferris Wheel, just run rides.”
As far as myth-making goes, this one is not without humour. Imagining a young Bob Dylan strapping some bratty kids into a carousel or putting out hay for the circus animals is a silly image that is worth dallying upon. Maybe he thought it would give his music more credibility if he came from the furthest extent of social isolation. If he was raised in an atmosphere of utter madness, would it make his underdog social commentary seem wiser and more powerful? Much like the 1960s belief that doing as much LSD as humanly possible would let you unlock the true meaning of life, Dylan seemed to think that a childhood of strife would act as a key to the podium of the voice of the people, even if that strife was entirely invented.
In reality, Dylan’s childhood was utterly normal. His family were working class, but they were comfortable. He grew up as Robert Zimmerman in the industrial town of Hibbing in Minnesota, where he had food on the table, a school to attend, friends to play with and space to be a normal child. Dylan’s father and uncle ran a furniture shop, and his family were part of the close-knit Jewish community in the area. It was the absolute picture of American working-class normalcy — not a trapeze in sight.
Instead, Dylan had the upbringing that the overwhelming majority of musicians speak of. He grew up listening to the radio, falling in love with the country and blues sounds he heard as a child before getting into rock and roll as a teenager. He started bands at school and played covers of Little Richard and Elvis Presley, enjoying the typical high school rockstar experience.
By all accounts, Zimmerman was the epitome of the small-town kid with tortured artist daydreams. By the time he finished high school, he’d begun introducing himself as Bob Dylan, taking the surname from his new interest in Dylan Thomas’ poetry. He’d also cast off mainstream rock and roll for the darker, moodier world of folk, stating, “I knew that when I got into folk music, it was more of a serious type of thing. The songs are filled with more despair, more sadness, more triumph, more faith in the supernatural, much deeper feelings.” He was exactly the kind of person you meet in your early 20s at the bar of some local venue, thinking he’s the second coming of musical Christ, or Jim Morrison, or even, in fact, Dylan himself.
It took until 1960 for Dylan to become the social dropout he claimed he had been since he was a child. He left college and ran off to New York, where he slowly became the folk legend we know him as now.
It is unknown why or when he made up the circus lies, but he stuck by it until he was inevitably found out. He’s quoted as saying, “All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie,” suggesting that myth-making or fiction feeding never felt bad to him. His strange circus obsession endured as an image he’s returned to throughout his career. From the circus-style poster designs he has always loved to putting on his own equivalent of a travelling freak show during his Rolling Thunder Revue as he took the biggest names in rock and folk out on the road for a chaotic tour, it seems to be an atmosphere he’s fixated on.
It could be argued that Dylan is a phoney and that his made-up childhood was a questionable attempt to feign poverty or make himself appear worse off to cash in on the social currency of struggle. It could be seen as another eye-rolling example of comfortable artists seeming to think that hardship and instability are cool, while people who have actually been raised in volatile environments like that are rarely afforded the same opportunity. Or, on the other hand, it could be a silly little story that does nothing but add to the mystery around Dylan, deployed by the artist to entertain himself in the midst of a never-ending tour of interviews.
After spending weeks following Dylan’s circus-like Rolling Thunder Revue, writer Sam Shepherd considered Dylan’s myths and lies, seeming to conclude that it all served to empower him and help him step into some brighter light of artistic glory and potential. He wrote, “Some myths are poisonous to believe in, but others have the capacity for changing something inside us, even if it’s only for a minute or two.” One More Cup of Coffee Before I go to the valley Below (4 minute video)
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