Goodman's best known for penning "City of New Orleans," which Arlo Guthrie scored a hit with in 1972. Renditions by Judy Collins, John Denver, Willie Nelson, and a slew of others followed. He also wrote "Banana Republics," an acid-tongued paean to American ex-pats living in the Caribbean that's generally associated Jimmy Buffet.
But Goodman was also a virtuoso guitarist (remarkable considering his 5' 2" frame) and a comic imp who could win over the most retractable of audiences. How many folkies, after all, could've survived opening for Steve Martin during the height of the wild-and-crazy-guy years? Armed with a passel of what he dubbed schtick-kicking songs, Goodman disarmed jackasses with arrows in their heads for years.
All of which is a rather roundabout way of getting to the point of this post: Clay Eals' excellent, exhaustive Goodman biography Facing the Music. Released in May by ECW Press, it's roughly the size of a phone book for a mid-sized American city. Eals interviewed more than 1,000 people in researching the book, from Hillary Clinton (a classmate at Maine East high school in suburban Chicago) to David Allen Coe, the outlaw country singer who scored a hit with "You Never Even Call Me By My Name," the goofy country parody that Goodman wrote with frequent crony John Prine. Adorned with hundreds of photographs from throughout his life, the volume is a sweet valentine.
This heady start never quite developed into the commercial success that Goodman craved. His albums pretty much bombed. He drew succor from the road, gigging relentlessly even as leukemia sucked the life out of him. And he never lost his wit, dubbing himself Cool Hand Leuk right down to his last days. Eals recounts all of this with intelligence and compassion.