To think of Bruce’s songs not as small bits of music, but rather, divorced from their music, and independent universes in which there are people, places, and things that all carry on past the limits of the track is to be deeply affected by the poetry that Bruce creates. Bruce even released a collection of his lyrics in book form – aptly titled “Songs.” Bruce’s words have meant a great deal, and there are a number of characters that strike me as favorites – the unnamed narrator of Backstreets, Teri from Backstreets (or is it Terry?), the narrator and his girl from Racing in the Street, and Bill Horton from Cautious Man. I actually am not a huge fan of Pete from Outlaw Pete – I think he’s pretty one dimensional, but he’s supposed to be an archetype of a strong, silent, John Wayne-esque cowboy. There aren’t too many named characters on The Rising, or even in albums like Lucky Town. Rainey Williams from “Black Cowboys” is a good character, but that which makes him unique is external; he is reactive to his environment. No, my favorite character from a Bruce Springsteen song comes from the Nebraska album, and the song “Highway Patrolman” in the form of Joe Roberts.
“My name is Joe Roberts. I work for the state. I’m a Sergeant out of Perrineville, barracks number eight.”
Joe Roberts is a man from the Vietnam era. He lives a fairly simplistic life, but he is a complex man, with great concerns. He was a farmer, and he had a farm deferment to avoid serving in Vietnam. His farm went bankrupt, so he became a state trooper. His brother, Franky, wasn’t nearly as lucky as he. He served in Vietnam, and, as Joe himself admits, “Franky ain’t no good.” Joe is a man tasked with upholding and enforcing the law, but his own brother spends much of his time breaking it.
Bruce often looks at the nature of relationships when people are presented with choices and direct conflict. Choices, like musical notes, have a meaning in their existence, but they end up gaining deeper meaning in the roads not taken, the choices not made, and the things sacrificed to make that choice. For Bruce, the conflict of the song is family and duty.
For Joe, he says, “I catch him when he’s strayin’, like any brother would. A man turns his back on his family, well, he just ain’t no good.” The parallel of “ain’t no good” from his description of Franky and a man who turns his back on his family is important. If he were to let his brother go, to let him fail, and to let him be arrested, he’d be no better than Frank. But that is the problem – it is his job to catch people when they stray, and uphold the law. He says he “always done an honest job” but makes sure to temper it with “as honest as I could” – the one thing that keeps him from being completely and truly honest as a public servant is his own brother, Frank. This is a clear source of consternation for Joe. The chorus is “Me and Franky laughin’ and drinkin’; nothin’ feels better than blood on blood. Takin’ turns dancin’ with Maria as the band played ‘Night of the Johnstown Flood.’”
In that chorus, it’s clear that Joe believes the blood on blood – family – is the most important thing. He and Franky share the world like two parts of the same piece of cloth. They even trade dances with Maria, Joe’s eventual wife. His duty to his job, and his love for his brother come in conflict, and he later says “a man turns his back on his family, he ain’t no friend of mine.” – his views on protecting Frank are softening.
Then, Frank pushes it too far – he assaults a customer in a local bar, leaving him bleeding heavily as he races away from the scene of the crime. Joe takes the call, and chases Frank to the Canadian border, never attempting to stop him. Joe gave him the escort to freedom, and Frank took it. Both men were presented with choices – Joe took the choice of protecting his blood. Frank took the choice of spilling someone else’s, and turning his back on his family. Joe then states, “a man turns his back on his family, well, he just ain’t no good.” This time, he isn’t talking about himself – he’s talking about Frank. Frank was the one who turned his back on his family. It was abundantly clear that Joe was going to let him get away. Frank could’ve stopped, said goodbye, thanked him, anything. He kept driving into the Canadian night, never to be seen again by his own flesh and blood.
The way Bruce sings Joe’s goodbye to Frank is so achingly beautiful, too. “I chased him through them county roads ‘til a sign said ‘Canadian Border – 5 miles’ from here. I pulled over to the side of the highway, an’ watched his taillights disappear.” When Bruce sings “taillights disappear” you can hear a hitch in his cadence. He chokes something back, as though Joe knows he’ll never see his brother again – he tried to teach Franky how to “walk that line,” but Franky was too selfish, his choices for himself. Franky will make it to Canada, relieved that he made it alive. Joe will spend the rest of his life wondering if he did the right thing with his brother and his job.
Joe Roberts ends up being a lot like the character in “The Line” – a retired veteran joins the border patrol, and eventually assists some illegal immigrants across the line. He realizes the futility and brutality of the US immigration policy, and quits. I always wonder if Joe Roberts’ heart would really be in enforcing laws he couldn’t enforce on his own brother. His choice gains meaning, because he did everything he could, but he still felt like there was more he didn’t do right, more he could’ve done better.
All of this occurs in a 5:41 second song. This is why Bruce’s lyrics are so deep and layered. There is always more to consider when he sings. Inherent in the words Bruce chooses are the words he doesn’t, and the ways the song could’ve gone. What if Franky had turned it around – learned from Joe? What if Joe had arrested his own brother? But they didn’t go that way. Joe made the ultimate compromise, and let a guilty man go, his last bit of service to his brother who never made it easy on his own flesh and blood. A man turns his back on his family, well, he just ain’t no good.
This is a modus operandi that is present in my family. My father is a quiet man who, likely, has not spoken to his own brother for a few years. He speaks with his sister infrequently. While no one really talks about it, I believe that there is some underlying issue that has happened between my father and his brother. There were definite issues when his sister came to stay with my mother and I while my dad was in Greece, having been called into active duty after the 9/11 terror attacks. My Aunt treated my mother and I with some disrespect, and my mother became quite frustrated with her. There’s never been any apology, nor have they ever talked about the problems. But, each year for the holidays, my Aunt comes to visit, and stay with our family. We’ve long since ignored the issues and sort of pretended they never happened, but I remember asking my mom if they had hashed them out. She said, matter-of-factly, “No, but she’s family. You don’t say no to family.”
Obviously, that’s not really a fact, that’s her opinion, but when she said it, it was right in my mind. It’s not that it was smart, or something I wanted to believe in, or something that made sense. It was something that was a truism for me. When I heard “Highway Patrolman,” and Bruce’s statements about blood and family, I knew I would like the song. Family is forever; the bonds run so deep, they should never be severed.
You don’t say no to family.
Tomorrow’s Springsteen Challenge topic: Favorite Bruce Instrument
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