Innerviews: Songwriter-poet shaped by turbulent spiritual odyssey
Charlton Heights native T. Paige Dalporto crisscrossed the country as a '60s-era flower child on a quest for spirituality. During the highs and lows of that emotional odyssey, he discovered a penchant for songwriting and an unfulfilled passion for photography. Click here to listen to music and interview excerpts.
He's a Dylan-style musician, a songwriter, poet, photographer and rabid environmentalist. Most importantly, at 59, he's a proud father, the primary caretaker of his first child, a 3-year-old son, Emilio.
“I was a first-time father at 57. I feel good about being a father. It’s hard work, but I feel I’m handling it real well.”
Charlton Heights native T. Paige Dalporto crisscrossed the country as a '60s-era flower child on a quest for spirituality. During the highs and lows of that emotional odyssey, he discovered a penchant for songwriting and an unfulfilled passion for photography.
He writes protest songs to control his rage over mountaintop removal, war, right-wing politics and woes that beset the "pearl," his beloved West Virginia. His CD, "Solid Pearl," includes a compelling lament about the Sago Mine disaster.
He's soft-spoken, pensive and, like many poets, a little offbeat. At Griff's, where he plays on Thursday nights, they call him a folk hero.
"Montgomery is where I grew up until I was 8. Then we moved to Charlton Heights. My dad was a lawyer, but his real thing was business. He started the Rockette Motel on Route 60 in Smithers. Secondo was his name. Secondo means second son. He had a brother, Primo. Primo is first son. Italian.
"Then my dad got into the coal business. I worked at the coal tipple. I'm 17, and he's got me in this freaking coal tipple with coal coming down this shaker. I still hear the ringing in my ears. Eventually, he went into the cemetery business, Kanawha Valley Memorial Gardens. We just sold out.
"I didn't really figure anything out until I was 25. I was in Bangor, Maine. I had just hitchhiked across the United States. I'd done that twice before. It was the '60s. My first trip was with a friend. We got in a Volkswagen just like a bunch of other young people did.
"The first trip was a very eventful period in my life, 1969. There was a lot of spirituality going on. My dad was Catholic. My mother was Methodist. I went to both churches. When I got older, I decided I was an atheist. On this trip, I was introduced to a very positive approach to God.
"For the first time, I kind of knew who I was, what I wanted, what life was all about. I wanted to have this newfound spirituality. I was totally absorbed in that.
"Money? I didn't have any. That was part of it. Just relying on the Lord, getting rid of worldly things, trying to become a spiritual person. So I hitchhiked to Alaska. Some people go to Nepal. Alaska was my Nepal. Spirituality on a budget.
"My third trip, I wound up in Bangor. I had gotten into some kind of spiritual mess. People today might call it depression. It was more than that.
"I was having all these terrible feelings, like I had done something terribly wrong to offend God, and for that I was going to hell. At first, it was a good kind of crash, like, 'I don't need to do this anymore.' But I had nothing to replace it, and I just kind of spiraled downward. I felt I was the only person in the world that ever experienced it.
"In Bangor, in the library, I picked up a book in a bin about Martin Luther. This book was my salvation in a lot of ways, because Martin Luther, it was happening to him, too, so I couldn't be too crazy. I just thought I was crazy. I think all religious people have a touch of insanity, because it's not about reason. You can't prove there's a God. This book helped.
"I got this job doing concrete foundations. Hardest damn job. You work so hard, you get like you don't care about anything. I got sick from the job, and I just quit.
"I'm sitting on my bed in Bangor, and I had this epiphany that I was going to do this thing. Songwriting. I had bought a guitar. I've played since I was 15. I had calmed down spiritually. I was in a group of Christians, and we would sit around and play.
"I started writing songs and going around to places in New England, hitchhiking with my guitar. They'd give you a beer, and you'd hang out to play a couple of songs.
He's a Dylan-style musician, a songwriter, poet, photographer and rabid environmentalist. Most importantly, at 59, he's a proud father, the primary caretaker of his first child, a 3-year-old son, Emilio.
Charlton Heights native T. Paige Dalporto crisscrossed the country as a '60s-era flower child on a quest for spirituality. During the highs and lows of that emotional odyssey, he discovered a penchant for songwriting and an unfulfilled passion for photography.
He writes protest songs to control his rage over mountaintop removal, war, right-wing politics and woes that beset the "pearl," his beloved West Virginia. His CD, "Solid Pearl," includes a compelling lament about the Sago Mine disaster.
He's soft-spoken, pensive and, like many poets, a little offbeat. At Griff's, where he plays on Thursday nights, they call him a folk hero.
"Montgomery is where I grew up until I was 8. Then we moved to Charlton Heights. My dad was a lawyer, but his real thing was business. He started the Rockette Motel on Route 60 in Smithers. Secondo was his name. Secondo means second son. He had a brother, Primo. Primo is first son. Italian.
"Then my dad got into the coal business. I worked at the coal tipple. I'm 17, and he's got me in this freaking coal tipple with coal coming down this shaker. I still hear the ringing in my ears. Eventually, he went into the cemetery business, Kanawha Valley Memorial Gardens. We just sold out.
"I didn't really figure anything out until I was 25. I was in Bangor, Maine. I had just hitchhiked across the United States. I'd done that twice before. It was the '60s. My first trip was with a friend. We got in a Volkswagen just like a bunch of other young people did.
"The first trip was a very eventful period in my life, 1969. There was a lot of spirituality going on. My dad was Catholic. My mother was Methodist. I went to both churches. When I got older, I decided I was an atheist. On this trip, I was introduced to a very positive approach to God.
"For the first time, I kind of knew who I was, what I wanted, what life was all about. I wanted to have this newfound spirituality. I was totally absorbed in that.
"Money? I didn't have any. That was part of it. Just relying on the Lord, getting rid of worldly things, trying to become a spiritual person. So I hitchhiked to Alaska. Some people go to Nepal. Alaska was my Nepal. Spirituality on a budget.
"My third trip, I wound up in Bangor. I had gotten into some kind of spiritual mess. People today might call it depression. It was more than that.
"I was having all these terrible feelings, like I had done something terribly wrong to offend God, and for that I was going to hell. At first, it was a good kind of crash, like, 'I don't need to do this anymore.' But I had nothing to replace it, and I just kind of spiraled downward. I felt I was the only person in the world that ever experienced it.
"In Bangor, in the library, I picked up a book in a bin about Martin Luther. This book was my salvation in a lot of ways, because Martin Luther, it was happening to him, too, so I couldn't be too crazy. I just thought I was crazy. I think all religious people have a touch of insanity, because it's not about reason. You can't prove there's a God. This book helped.
"I got this job doing concrete foundations. Hardest damn job. You work so hard, you get like you don't care about anything. I got sick from the job, and I just quit.
"I'm sitting on my bed in Bangor, and I had this epiphany that I was going to do this thing. Songwriting. I had bought a guitar. I've played since I was 15. I had calmed down spiritually. I was in a group of Christians, and we would sit around and play.
"I started writing songs and going around to places in New England, hitchhiking with my guitar. They'd give you a beer, and you'd hang out to play a couple of songs.
"I was up there probably two and a half years. I worked at a gas station, did construction work. I was on welfare. My dad and I never did see eye to eye on any of this. My mother is very much a patron of the arts. She gets it that art is important. My dad, his parents were Italian immigrants. Hard work. That's all he ever understood. The last two years of his life, he started to appreciate me.
"I was very intense about music, very absorbed in becoming a performer. Then I got in trouble. I got drunk. I cut down the American flag on the Fourth of July in the town square in Salem, Mass. So it was, 'Get out of town.' I hung around for my court date and came home. It was a difficult decision.
"I got heavily involved here in a fundamentalist church. They had good music. I was writing songs. I was happy. But the thing about this church was, you always had to be proving yourself. It just wore you out. The standards were so high. Sinlessness. The concept of grace wasn't prominent in their teachings. So I left and went to Nashville. That's where the music was.
"It turned out well. I was having this spiritual crisis with this church, but I always have a creative resurgence. I met some like-minded Christians who were more relaxed, who realized that we are only human.
"I discovered photography in Nashville. I was going to a little technical college and took a photography class and fell in love with it immediately.
"I stayed there six years, recorded a little bit, did odd jobs. This was '86. Things really took off for me in terms of personal growth and satisfaction. But gradually it became a grind.
"Back in West Virginia, I got a job with a local newspaper, taking pictures. I was passionate about it, equally as passionate as music. I started working for the Register-Herald as photographer. Then I worked for the Lincoln Standard until they went under.
"I got married, and I've got a 3-year-old. I was a first-time father at 57. I feel good about being a father. It's hard work, but I feel I'm handling it real well. I have a lot of responsibilities now, taking care of my kid and trying to market my music.
"I play at Griff's Thursday nights. The guy there, he gets up and calls me a folk hero. I am many things. Songwriter. Musician. Poet. Photographer.
"I'm involved in saving West Virginia from destruction environmentally. I'm rabid. It's hard for me to keep a civil tongue, so I'm using my songwriting to express these protests.
"I'm always able to bring in the aspect that this is 'Almost Heaven,' looking at it from a spiritual, even a biblical, perspective. 'The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof.' Psalm 28.
"I want people to start appreciating the planet and quit doing crazy things to it environmentally. I want to get Bush out of office. I want my son to be happy. I want to be able to pursue my passions.
"Right out of high school, I went to WVU. When I was 27, I went to Morris Harvey. Another sitting-on-the-bed experience. 'Hey, I know what I'll do. I'll go to school and study religion and music.' I went to West Virginia State. I just never did graduate.
"Once I found that photography was this passion, I should have gone back to school and studied photography. It just never occurred to me. It must not have been in the cards.
"With all the terrible times I've had, I like to accentuate the positive. A song from my album was published as a poem in 'Coal: A Poetry Anthology.' Music from my album is the soundtrack for an audio book. I have a song in the documentary, 'Rise Up West Virginia.' So I'm not doing real bad.
"God must have me where He wants me. I'm just not going the usual route. But if anyone wants to give me a job, I'm not closing that door."
To contact staff writer Sandy Wells, call 348-5173 or e-mail san...@wvgazette.com.
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