Doug Levitt

There is a long tradition in the U.S. of artists taking to the road to explore, understand and try to tell the story of the immense American landscape and populace that seems to exist beyond the daily headlines. That tradition takes on even more value in moments of national crisis — when a country struggles through economic calamity or political gridlock, hearing of the commonalities that are shared by Americans irrespective of location and background can be invaluable. It can also serve to remind the people in charge that another world exists beyond the confines of their own.

In that, Doug Levitt arrives in D.C. at just the right time. Tomorrow the singer-songwriter takes to The Kennedy Center’s Millennium Stage to perform songs, share pictures and tell stories of the seven years he spent criss-crossing the country on Greyhound buses. The 70,000-mile odyssey spawned The Greyhound Diaries, a 2007 EP, 2008 book and a website of images, videos and stories.

For Levitt, the performance is a homecoming. The one-time CNN correspondent grew up the son of former D.C. Councilmember Carol Schwartz and attended D.C. public schools, where he played sports and sang in a gospel choir. We caught up with him to chat about his trip, growing up in D.C. and what it was like being the son of a D.C. Republican.

What motivated the decision to abandon a life as an international correspondent and travel the U.S. on Greyhound?

Doug Levitt: In some ways, I think that the reason that you think you do something and the reason you actually do it doesn’t always turn out to be the same. In retrospect, I can see a lot of it makes more sense. I felt that I needed to become an artist and that that mode of expression was really going to be the road for me. Returning to the States from overseas, I looked at the poverty numbers and I saw what I thought was a largely unreflected crisis in the making and I thought, ‘Well, what can I do, if anything?’ And so, inspired by [Works Progress Administration]-era projects, I thought that maybe I could set out on the road and write songs and stories largely about folks struggling to get by.

And the reason that I say that the reason you think you do things and the reason you actually do them aren’t always the same is because I do realize now, in retrospect, that my own personal story and coming to, not reconcile, but to understand the suicide of my father and then ultimately to forgive myself—I’ve learned that through fellow riders. In a sense, I felt that maybe my story would help others to share their own. But the truth is, I know the opposite is also true and I’ve gotten a lot out of it that has helped me grow in the process.

What was it like growing up D.C., and how do you compare your experiences on the road to your time here?

DL: D.C. is an interesting microcosm of the country as a whole because it has a northern population, a southern population, a black population, and a white population that is either from here or not. There are of course transients from all individual backgrounds. But growing up in D.C. I think I was exposed to a lot of different strata of society and different facets of the District because I did go to the public schools and in that sense you don’t even realize what you’re learning when it’s happening, but you are exposed to so many different kinds of people. I also think that my mother, who exposed me to politics, really instilled a civic orientation or civic mindedness and an outward focus, and so through her work and through growing up and the sports that I played I think I got an opportunity to check in and check out of a lot of different worlds and in the process became a decent observer—and I found that i enjoy doing that. The struggles of the country as a whole in terms of poverty and disparity are very much reflected in the District and are things i was exposed to growing up in D.C.

Everyone says that D.C. is somewhat recession-proof, that we didn’t feel the worst of the economic crisis the same way other parts of the country did. How did you see some of that on the road?

DL: The explanation of the great recession had something to do with the subprime [mortgage] crisis. But there is a sub-subprime, and there is a sub-sub-subprime in America. There are people who couldn’t even imagine being able to buy a home, so I think the nature of the discussion or the explanation for these long-held institutional issues in America was given a kind of broad brush, simple answer that wasn’t reflective of what existed for a long, long time. I set out on this journey in 2004 and you can say, ‘Yeah, things have changed,’ but the truth is that for people who travel by Greyhound, the commonality is that they can’t afford to drive, so they end up on the bus.

What did you realize as you moved further away from home?

DL: I think that there is a tendency, especially in an election year, there is an oppositional tendency, it’s an either/or focus. So maybe when you’re on a bus and you’re going to be spending a lot of time with people, it becomes an almost depoliticized environment. So what you find is that people seek out commonalities in this world. It’s not a question of what don’t we have in common, but rather what we do have in common. You have all different cross sections of people sharing stories with one another in transit, so this commonality of experience is underscored.

I also think there is a tendency to focus on cities in general, but if you look at Greyhound, it serves 2,200 destinations in America. it’s the most ubiquitous form of transportation outside the car. Southwest, by comparison, has 72 destinations. So you’re talking about so many tiny towns, a lot of places that I don’t think are covered all that well just because of the nature of news and public opinion.

And then, lastly, I think there is a narrative gap between those that are wired into the conversation and those that aren’t—and there are a lot of people who aren’t. There’s a supposition that the conversation is inclusive. So when you have Twitter trends echoed as news, no one is thinking about the people who aren’t trending on Twitter, basically.

Was it difficult to get people to share their stories? Since you started this as something of an observer, was it tough to get people to entrust their experiences with you?

DL: I was a broke artist, busking my way around the country. I think I was trying to figure out my own path, along with everyone else. I didn’t feel in any way separate. I just felt like this is kinda of where I am at the moment. As time went on, my belief in what I was doing and the lack of attention to what I was doing—I was trying to be heard, I was trying to find ways to share what I was seeing and hearing, but wasn’t finding a lot of avenues to do that — just kinda fed itself and I felt like I had to keep going.

What’s the show going to be like?

DL: It weaves together songs and stories and my own personal narrative into a show with an arc that ultimately ends up around the idea that we share our stories to know that we’re not alone, and that our stories is where we meet, a crossroads of human experience. And by virtue of the stories and songs that I have been able to glean in the process, I have also come to, like fellow riders, a greater sense of self in the process.

What was the biggest takeaway from the experience?

DL: How evocative and populous the American landscape is, and how we do find places of commonality across our very diverse country. Maybe it’s because our population is so diverse that our stories take on more importance as a way of connecting us. I would say the biggest takeaway for me would be that.

So your bio says you sang in a gospel choir in high school…

DL: I think I was the only Jewish kid in the gospel choir at Wilson High School. [Laughter] Growing up singing in gospel choirs and also through my Mom’s work I would go to a lot of services on Sunday, because a lot of politics take place in the churches on Sundays.

I think the way that the music speaks to every day issues that people are contending with really drove the point home at a young age that music can be this kind of outlet that allows you to take something that’s otherwise difficult and turn it into something that’s hopefully beautiful.

Your Mom was a D.C. Republican. There’s not many of those, and the ones that exist cross many lines. How did her political life play a role for you?

DL: She’s a very liberal Republican on so many issues, more liberal socially than most Democrats I know. And because her being a Republican in D.C. is more of a rarity, I think that it taught me to keep an open mind and not to use one single broad brush to describe a person based on an affiliation. That’s the kind of thing that I have found on the bus, that people’s own experiences are not so easily codified in one label or another.