She began her public career as a singer and collector of traditional folksongs in the late 1950s. During the early 1960s she left her husband and began traveling and performing at music festivals and clubs throughout the United States. She and her five children traveled across the country as she worked to support her family and establish herself as a performer. Along the way she made many lifelong friends among the folk and beat scene. Her career of social activism, storytelling, teaching, learning, songwriting, collecting folk songs, performing, and recording has spanned six decades.
Rosalie's first major gig was at the Newport Folk Festival in 1966. Rosalie recorded more than 20 albums including the 2005 Grammy nominated album "My Last Go 'Round" (Best Traditional Folk Album.) She authored two books and wrote the introduction to her mother's book. In 1990 Sorrels was the recipient of the World Folk Music Association's Kate Wolf Award. In 1999 she received the National Storytelling Network Circle of Excellence Award for "exceptional commitment and exemplary contributions to the art of storytelling." In 2000 she was awarded an honorary Doctor of Fine Arts from the University of Idaho. In 2001 she was awarded the Boise Peace Quilt Award. She had been featured several times on National Public Radio and profiled on Idaho Public Television.
Throughout her career, she has performed and recorded with other notable folk musicians, including Utah Phillips, Mitch Greenhill, Dave Van Ronk, Peggy Seeger and Pete Seeger. Oscar Zeta Acosta, Hunter S. Thompson and Studs Terkel wrote introductory notes for her albums. She was strongly influenced by Malvina Reynolds and went on to record several of her songs on the album What does it mean to love? She credits Reynolds with helping turn rebelliousness from a destructive force into an artistic one.
Rosalie Ann Stringfellow was born on June 24, 1933 in Boise, Idaho to Walter Pendleton Stringfellow and Nancy Ann Kelly Stringfellow. Her parents met while attending Idaho State University in Pocatello. Her parents, like their parents before them, had a love of language and song which they passed to their children. Her father worked for the highway department and the family often travelled with him as he did field work.
Her cultural heritage was one of language, song, and poetry from both sets of grandparents. Her father’s parents were Robert Stanton Stringfellow and Rosalie Cope who settled near Idaho City, Idaho on the Grimes Creek property. Robert was an Episcopal missionary working with various tribes and rural churches in Idaho and Montana. His wife, Rosalie Cope, was a photographer and journalist. The Cope family were journalists in Salt Lake City.[5] Rosalie developed a love of the outdoors while spending summers on Grimes Creek. Her mother’s parents were James Madison Kelly and Arabel Beaire who married and settled on a farm in Twin Falls, Idaho where Rosalie was a frequent visitor.
In interviews for a biography of Rosalie, Nancy Stringfellow explained
“She finds something … in a piece of poetry … that shines out like a precious jewel, and you can see her cupping her hands and holding it. We all have a streak of that … We are delighted with words. We’re drunk with words.”[4]
During high school Rosalie participated in theater as had her parents while in college. She acted and sang in many productions, garnering praise for her performances in the local media. It was during this period that Rosalie became pregnant and had an illegal abortion. This experience had a profound effect on her, showing up in later poetry and song.[5] She earned a scholarship to the University of Idaho, but as a result of a rape, she became pregnant and went to a home for unwed mothers in California to await the birth of her child, a daughter. Again, the experience of making the difficult choice of adoption shows in her later writings and music.
Sorrels did not go to college as planned, but returned to Boise after the birth of her child. She acted in local theater and partied with her friends. She enjoyed the love and support of her family during this unsteady time in her life. She recounted that her parents loved her and did not judge her.
Jim Sorrels and Rosalie Stringfellow met while performing in theater in Boise, Idaho. Jim worked for the phone company as a lineman and was seven years older than Rosalie. The two married in 1952 and his job took them to Salt Lake City where they opened their home to actors, musicians, and poets living or visiting in the area. During the marriage, they had five children and the house was filled with love, laughter, music, books and words. Both loved jazz music and Rosalie joked that Jim married her to get access to her collection of jazz recordings. Over time, her interest in the folk music of her childhood was piqued and she began to study at the University of Utah with noted folklorist, Wayland Hand. She learned to accompany herself on guitar during this period and attended folklore society meetings and seminars.
There was a strong tradition in both the Stringfellow and Kelly families to celebrate the written and spoken word. The families encouraged reading and learning for their children and this was passed to the succeeding generations. Writing; whether sermons, magazine articles, poems or Personal journaling, were all activities Rosalie experienced in her youth. She followed in the same path of expressing herself in word by journaling and writing poetry and prose.
Songs and music were a natural extension of this interest in words and her love of music began early in life as she listened to her father, Walter Pendleton Stringfellow, sing. She had access to a scrapbook of folk songs collected by her grandmother, Rosalie Cope Stringfellow. She began her music career collecting folksongs and performing them, first with her husband Jim in the late 1950s, then later on her own. It was during this time that the Smithsonian Institution's Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage recorded Rosalie and Jim performing her collection of traditional songs. Many of these have been released by Smithsonian Folkways Recordings in various compilation albums throughout the last fifty years.
Sorrels was a regular in the Utah folk scene in the late 1950s and early 1960s when she and her husband taught folk guitar classes at the University of Utah. She participated in workshops and folk festivals in the area, such as the Utah Folklore Workshop and Festival (1959). In this way she met other folklorists and performers at "song swaps"; as well as formal sessions. Sorrels also was a concert promoter and brought Joan Baez to Salt Lake City the first time in 1963.
In 1963 Rosalie began a four decade relationship with Manny Greenhill and Folklore Productions. She performed with Manny's son, Mitch at the 1966 Newport Folk Festival and produced an album in 1964 for Folk-Legacy Records entitled If I Could Be the Rain. This is her first album which included her original songs, as previous recordings contained her renditions of traditional songs she had collected. She and her children lived for a time with Lena Spencer in Saratoga Springs, New York where she performed at Caffè Lena. She continued working on her craft, and was one of the performers at the 1970 Isle of Wight Festival. Sorrels maintained an active performance schedule throughout the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, often touring solo or with close friend Utah Phillips. By the midpoint of the new century's first decade, health considerations were slowing her pace. By the end of the decade, she had mostly retired to her home in Idaho, maintaining an interest and presence in the region's cultural life.
Empty cot in the bunkhouse tonight
Rosalie Sorrels Lyrics
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Pinto's head hanging low
His spurs and chaps hang on the wall
And he′s gone where the good cowboys go
There's a range for every cowboy
And the foreman looks after his own
There'll be an empty saddle tonight
He was riding the range last Saturday noon
When another started to blow
With his head in his chest heading into the west
He was stopped by a cry soft and low
There a crazy young calf had strayed from its mom
And lost in the snow and the storm
It lay in a heap at the end of the draw
Had a long and a bunch to keep warm
Limpy hobbled his feet
Tossed him over his hoss
And started again for the shack
The wind blew cold and the snow piled high
And poor Limpy strayed from his track
He arrived at three in the morning
And put the maverick to bed
He plopped in his bunk
Not able to move
In the morning poor Limpy was dead
There′s an empty cot in the bunkhouse tonight
Pinto's head hanging low
His spurs and chaps hang on the wall
Limpy′s gone where the good cowboys go
There's a range for every cowboy
And the foreman looks after his own
And someday he′ll ride old Pinto
On the range up there above
The lyrics of Rosalie Sorrels's song "Empty cot in the bunkhouse tonight" tell a story of a cowboy named Limpy who, while riding the range one day, came across a lost calf trapped in the snow and the storm. Despite the harsh weather conditions, Limpy hobbled his feet, tossed the calf over his horse, and made his way back to the ranch, losing his way in the process. Despite this, he managed to arrive at the ranch at three in the morning and put the calf to bed in the warmth of the stable. Exhausted, he finally went to bed, but unfortunately, he never woke up.
The song reflects on the cowboy lifestyle of the American West, where cowboys were the unsung heroes of the range, living and working in tough conditions day in and day out. The song also reflects on the camaraderie among cowboys, where the foreman looks after his own and even in death, a cowboy's memory lives on.
Overall, the song is a tribute to the life and sacrifice of Limpy, who gave his all to save a helpless calf. His empty bunk represents the loss that everyone on the ranch feels, but the song ends on a hopeful note, with the promise that someday, Limpy will ride Pinto again on the great range up in the sky.
Line by Line Meaning
There’s an empty cot in the bunkhouse tonight
Tonight, one cowboy is missing from the bunkhouse where he usually slept.
Pinto's head hanging low
Pinto, a horse owned by the cowboy who passed away, is mourning his owner and friend.
His spurs and chaps hang on the wall
The cowboy's cowboy hat, boots, and other gear hang on the wall as a reminder of the fallen cowboy.
And he’s gone where the good cowboys go
The cowboy has passed away and is now in the afterlife with other good cowboys.
There's a range for every cowboy, And the foreman looks after his own
Each cowboy has their own range, and the foreman takes care of the cowboys under his supervision.
There’ll be an empty saddle tonight, But he’s happy out there I know
There will be an empty space for the cowboy's horse and saddle, but the cowboy is happy in the afterlife.
He was riding the range last Saturday noon, When another started to blow
The cowboy was riding on the range around noon last Saturday when a snowstorm started to develop.
With his head in his chest heading into the west, He was stopped by a cry soft and low
The cowboy was heading west with his head down when he heard a faint cry for help.
There a crazy young calf had strayed from its mom, And lost in the snow and the storm
A young calf was lost in the snowstorm after wandering too far away from its mother.
It lay in a heap at the end of the draw, Had a long and a bunch to keep warm
The calf was exhausted and cold, lying in a heap at the bottom of a ravine and needed warmth to survive.
Limpy hobbled his feet, Tossed him over his hoss, And started again for the shack
The cowboy named Limpy tied the calf's feet together, loaded it onto his horse, and headed back to the house.
The wind blew cold and the snow piled high, And poor Limpy strayed from his track
The weather made it extremely difficult to navigate, and Limpy was having trouble staying on course.
He arrived at three in the morning, And put the maverick to bed, He plopped in his bunk, Not able to move
Eventually, the cowboy got back to the house at 3 am and put the calf to bed, but he was too tired to move and fell into his bunk.
In the morning poor Limpy was dead
The cowboy died of exhaustion and hypothermia during his journey home.
And someday he'll ride old Pinto, On the range up there above
The cowboy will one day reunite with his horse and ride together again, but in the afterlife.
Writer(s): Gene Autry
Contributed by Isaiah W. Suggest a correction in the comments below.