Escrita por
Bob Dylan, foi gravada em 23 de outubro de 1963 e lançada em 13 de janeiro de
1964 no disco The times they are a-changing. Trata-se do assassinato de uma
garconete de 51 anos chamada Hattie Carroll. O assassino foi William
Zantzinger, que na música Bob chama de Zanginger.
Zantzinger
era um rico fazendeiro de tabaco do Charles County, em Maryland, que tinha
feito 24 anos de idade no dia anterior a esse crime. Bob fala tambem da pena
minima de 6 meses numa cadeia local, depois de ser sido condenado apenas por
agressao.
Fala do
racismo dos anos 1960s. Quando Carroll foi assassinada em 1963, Charles County
era ainda uma cidade Segregada. Restaurantes, igrejas, teatros, consultorios
medicos, onibus, escolas e tudo o mais ainda era dividido entre brancos e
negros. So iria encerrar a segregacao racial em Charles County em 1967.
O crime
aconteceu nas primeiras horas de 9 de fevereiro de 1963, em um hotem em
Baltimore. Carroll era mae de dez filhos e presidente de um clube social de
negros. Ele a matou porque ela demorou um minuto para trazer o drink que ele
havia pedido. Ele nela com uma bengala de brinquedo e ele teve hemorragia
cerebral.
Ele foi
julgado e condenado por assassinato. Mas a defesa alegou que ele estava bebado
e sua pena foi reduzida pra agressao. Disseram que o nervosismo dela foi que
causou o derrame no cerebro. Em 28 de agosto do mesmo ano, sua pena foi
reduzida pra agressao. A Time Magazine cobriu o evento. Pegou seis meses e o
juiz ainda deu ate o dia 15 de setembro pra ele ser encarcerado, pois ele
precisava terminar de colher o tabaco daquela safra. Os seis meses, periodo tao
curto, foi pra evitar que Zatzinger fosse pra uma penitenciaria, onde os negros
iriam acabar com ele.
A sentença
de Zatzinger foi dada no mesmo dia que Martin Luther King Jr. fez seu discurso
I have a dream, em Washington. Bob Dylan tinha entao 22 anos de idade e estava
no discurso. Quando voltava pra New York City, onde morava, ele leu sobre o
caso e decidiu escrever essa canção sobre isso. Dylan escreveu essa canção em
Manhattan, num café que ficava aberto a noite toda.
Zatzinger
depois de cumprir a pena, voltou pra sua fazenda. Em 2001, Zatzinger disse que
a cançao de Dylan era uma mentira e que Bob Dylan era um filho da puta e que
deveria ter processado-o e colocado-o na cadeia. Morreu em 2009, aos 69 anos de
idade.
Judy
Collins gravou-a em 1964, ao vivo.
A
letra:
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gathering
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a maid in the kitchen
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
And you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And that ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsv
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears.
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gathering
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a maid in the kitchen
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
And you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And that ladder of law has no top and no bottom
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsv
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears.
A versao
Bootleg de Bob Dylan dessa canção:
Excelente
cover de Cristy Moore:
A versao de
Folk Hippie:
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