All the Lies That Are My Life: Bob Dylan, Lorre Wyatt and “Blowin’ in the Wind”

It’s windy, spitting snow, and just above freezing the night of Monday, April 16, 1962 in New York City’s West Village. Joan Baez jumps into a cab parked at 11 West 4th Street and starts babbling to the driver about a song she just heard.

“A cesspool where you could barely see anybody because of the smoke, and you couldn’t talk to anybody because half of the people you wanted to talk to wanted to sell you narcotics.”

Joanie: “You wouldn’t believe this. I mean, this is amazing. This is real poetry.”