Odetta, 77, transcendent voice fused heritage, hopes into civil rights movement

Odetta sang work songs, folk, and the blues. ''She was a powerhouse,'' said Joan Baez. (ap/file 1978)

Odetta, whose thunderous voice was a beacon in the civil rights movement and whose indomitable spirit fired the imaginations of fellow musicians for 50 years, died Tuesday in Manhattan. She was 77.

Her death came three weeks after she was admitted to Lenox Hill Hospital with kidney failure, said Doug Yeager, Odetta's manager of 12 years. The cause of death was heart disease, he said. A fighter to the end, Odetta had hoped to sing at the inauguration of president-elect Barack Obama, though she had not been officially invited, Yeager said.

"She was a powerhouse," said Joan Baez, crediting Odetta as a formative influence who looked out for her early on, even taking Baez to her first Newport Folk Festival. "She and her husband at the time picked me up at my house in Belmont, and we rode to Newport together. I'll never forget it."

At first a shy admirer and later a friend, Baez said Odetta was truly the queen of folk music. "When I first met her, at the Gate of Horn in Chicago, my knees went to jelly, and that doesn't happen to me very often," Baez said. "She was one of the people who really grounded me in real folk music. There was absolutely nothing commercial about her music."

That might explain why so much of Odetta's catalog remains out of print, with many of her mid-career albums hard to find. In 1999, she returned to recording regularly as an artist on M.C. Records, a small New York label. She turned her attention mostly to the blues, particularly Leadbelly, whose legacy she seemed especially suited to interpret and perhaps even inherit.

Two of her three albums for the label brought her Grammy nominations: "Blues Everywhere I Go" (1999) and "Gonna Let It Shine" (2005). She was previously nominated in 1963 for best folk recording for "Odetta Sings Folk Songs."

Often called a folk singer, Odetta seemed to resist the term, preferring to think of herself as a meticulous musical historian. Yes, she sang folk, but she was also at home on spirituals, blues, jazz, and even pop songs.

Most famously, though, with her classically trained voice and spare guitar playing, Odetta gave life to the songs of working men and slaves, farmers and miners, housewives and washerwomen, blacks and whites.

Listening to "Odetta Sings Ballads and Blues," her 1956 solo debut, you can close your eyes and imagine the songs ringing out from a weathered back porch a century before.

Despite her failing health, Odetta maintained a rigorous touring schedule and played in Boston three times in recent years. She sang from a wheelchair this past summer in Dorchester's Franklin Park, but her fiery spirit was intact. It was disheartening to see Odetta frail because she had always exuded such strength and defiance, qualities that made her a natural leader in the civil rights movement. She called on her fellow blacks to "take pride in the history of the American Negro;" when Rosa Parks was asked which songs meant the most to her, she said, "all of the songs Odetta sings."

Barry Gaither, executive director of the Roxbury-based National Center for Afro-American Artists, said Odetta's impact on African-American culture cannot be understated. "She took her music from folk music - predominantly black folk music - at a time when my generation was growing up on R&B and soul," he said. "She really kept alive music that would have been lost in the black community back then."

Odetta's popularity peaked in the 1960s, but her influence was vast and unrivaled. Everyone from folk singers (Bob Dylan, Harry Belafonte) and rock stars (Janis Joplin) to singer-songwriters (Tracy Chapman) and fellow activists (Maya Angelou) have sung her praises.

In a 1978 Playboy interview, Dylan said, "The first thing that turned me on to folk singing was Odetta." He said he found "just something vital and personal" when he heard an early album of hers in a record store as a teenager. "Right then and there, I went out and traded my electric guitar and amplifier for an acoustical guitar," he said.

In 1999, President Bill Clinton honored her with a National Medal of the Arts. In 2004, she was a Kennedy Center honoree. A year later, the Library of Congress honored her with its Living Legend Award.

Born Odetta Holmes in Birmingham, Ala., on Dec. 31, 1930, she moved with her family to Los Angeles at the age of 6. Her father had died when she was young and she took her stepfather's last name, Felious. A junior high teacher heard her sing in a glee club and made sure she got music lessons, but Odetta turned away from classical studies when she became interested in folk music in her late teens.

After finding success in San Francisco's folk clubs, notably the Tin Angel, she quickly became beloved in New England, particularly in Cambridge, the epicenter of the folk revival. Betsy Siggins, director of the Passim Center, remembered when Odetta first played at Club 47 in the '60s.

"It was like having an African princess arrive in Harvard Square," she said. "She came here as one of the few women folk singers who had a real history with and understanding of the civil rights movement. She was this spiritual voice that really spoke to women."

Siggins said she saw Odetta perform in recent years, too, and the fire was still burning. "Over the years she kept the light on, even when she was ill or recovering," Siggins said. "Her music lives on as a true testament to how far this country has come and where it's headed. I know she so, so wanted to perform at Obama's inauguration, and her voice will really be missed."

Odetta leaves a daughter, Michelle Esrick of New York City, and a son, Boots Jaffre, of Fort Collins, Colo. She was divorced about 40 years ago and never remarried, her manager Yeager said.

A memorial service is planned for next month.

Material from wire services was included in this report.