Contrary to the popular belief, Strange Fruit was not written by Billie Holiday but by Abel Meeropol. A Jewish schoolteacher and a political activist, he wrote the poem after seeing a photograph of a lynching. He composed the melody as well and published it under the pseudonym Lewis Allen.
The song was first sung at a New York Teacher’s union meeting, but became a hit at the CafĂ© Society, a popular nightclub. Billie Holiday, was scared to sing the song because of the political implications, and even her first performance, “There wasn’t even a patter of applause when I finished,” she later said. “Then a lone person began to clap nervously. Then suddenly everyone was clapping.”(Margolick 16)
Billie Holiday’s record company Columbia, refused to record the song in fear of retribution, but Billie persisted and got the song recorded by an independent record company. Afterwards, Strange Fruit became No.16 on the billboard charts in 1939 and eventually into a civil rights anthem. Strange Fruit is very remarkable because although there were civil rights songs recorded previously, none of them were as bold and direct. To this day, Strange Fruit is known as one of the songs that changed the world.
Strange Fruit
Lyrics:
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root.
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of the burning flesh.
Here is the fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
© DWAYNE WIGGINS PUB DESIGNEE;WB MUSIC CORP.
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root.
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of the burning flesh.
Here is the fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
© DWAYNE WIGGINS PUB DESIGNEE;WB MUSIC CORP.