Tom Rush reflects on discovering legends ahead of Hall of Fame induction

More than half a century ago, Tom Rush was hunting for “some good new songs” when he came across demos by a kid named Jackson Browne.

“Back then, Jackson wasn’t interested in performing. He just wanted to be a songwriter. He changed his mind about that, which is a good thing,” Rush, 85, tells me in our recent phone interview. 

The Portsmouth, N.H. native’s covers of Browne songs — notably, “These Days” — helped introduce Browne to the world.  

The Harvard alum is also credited with discovering James Taylor and Joni Mitchell. Those two were inducted into Boston’s Folk Americana Roots Hall of Fame in 2024.  

And on March 24, Rush and Browne will join them. 

Rush and Browne are among the five living artists inducted into FARHOF this year, along with Neil Young, Judy Collins and Tom Paxton. (“Who is this Neil Young guy?” deadpanned Rush.)

Rush is the only 2026 inductee from New England. For the record: it seems all beat Bob Dylan into the Hall of Fame. (Maybe the honorary Berklee Doctor will make it next time around. Good luck, Zimmy.)

The living legends will be inducted along with “legacy” inductees: late greats Aretha Franklin, Leonard Cohen, Mississippi John Hurt, Muddy Waters and Sister Rosetta Tharpe. 

There are also two “Industry/Non-performer” inductees: late folklorist and ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax, and the late producer/talent scout John Hammond, who helped launch Bob Dylan, Franklin, Bruce Springsteen and others.

Young and Browne will not be present at the sold-out celebration Wednesday. But Collins, Paxton and Rush will all perform — along with special performances by Rockport’s Paul Cole, Grammy winner Dom Flemons, and others. Presenters include Beth Nielsen Chapman, Vance Gilbert, John Oates of Hall & Oates, Noel Paul Stookey of Peter Paul & Mary, and others.

Even if you miss the concert, you can still explore the exhibit “Legends of Folk, Americana Roots Music, 2025 Class” at FARHOF, housed in the Wang Theatre.

Let me guide you through the confusion here: FARHOF refers to this year’s lot as both “2026 inductees” and “the Class of 2025” on their website. The names were announced in 2025. There was a class of ’23, inducted in ‘24, but no class of ’24.

Part witty raconteur, part singer/songwriter with a warm voice, part golden ear for undiscovered talent, Rush has made his mark in the music world not from LA or New York City, but here in New England.

With his studio in Rockport and his home in southern Maine, Rush has managed to stay close to his roots and build a storied career — he’s got his New England cult following to prove it. 

Rush is a songwriter who can make you cry one minute with songs like “No Regrets,” and laugh at his stage banter. Jokes and stories are his bread and butter. He’s got a core base of diehard New England fans. 

When I called, Rush was on the road to perform in Maryland. Still touring at age 85 with no end in sight, we talked Joni Mitchell, riding a train with the Grateful Dead and Janis Joplin, Clint Eastwood, pot brownies, a lesson from Leonard Cohen, and more.

Boston.com: So how does it feel to be inducted?

Tom Rush: I thought they said indicted.

[laughs] You’re also going to perform at the ceremony.

I’ll do a song of my own, and a song of Jackson Browne’s, since he won’t be there. And I’ll be singing, “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” with Judy.

I’ll also have a young kid with me, [former Berklee student] Brendan Cleary. He’s 31. I ran into Brendan about a year ago when I was staying at the Hilton near Boston’s Wang Center. This kid was playing guitar in the lobby bar. I thought: “He’s too good to be playing bars.” I asked the desk in the morning “Who was that guy?” They gave me his number. And he’s just joined me on tour as my new accompanist. I’m trying to get him on stages instead of in bars. He’ll also accompany me at the induction ceremony. 

Wow. You’ve clearly got a knack for discovering talent. Jackson Browne is also being inducted. You’re credited with discovering him, Joni Mitchell, and James Taylor. How did you discover James?

My producer at Elektra, Paul Rothschild, said, “You gotta hear this kid.” They brought him into the Elektra offices in New York. They put us in an empty room with no furniture. We sat on the floor with a tape recorder. He sang a bunch of songs into the tape recorder and then left for England. [Taylor was the first artist signed to The Beatles’ Apple Records.] 

You covered his “Something in the Way She Moves” and “Sunshine, Sunshine” on your 1968 album, “The Circle Game.” 

Named, of course, after Joni’s song.

And how did you discover Joni? She’s an honorary Berklee College doctor now.

Joni came to a show I was doing in Detroit in a place called The Chess Mate in, I think, ’66. She’d just started writing songs, and she’d been in a folk duo with her then-husband, Chuck. She’d asked the owner if she could do a four-song guest-set so I could hear her songs and maybe record them. The fourth song was “Urge for Going.”

Wow. 

It knocked my socks off. I asked her if she had any more songs, and she basically said “No, but give me a minute.” A few weeks later, she sent me a tape. Just before the last song, she apologized: “I just finished writing this. It’s not much good. I’m so embarrassed. But here it is.” And it was “The Circle Game.”

Speaking of those circles: You were born in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and grew up in Concord, New Hampshire.

Then they shipped me off to Groton School in Massachusetts. I ended up at Harvard, as an English major.

Where you discovered a passion for folk music.

There was all this folk music going on in Cambridge at the time. Kids playing Delta Blues, Irish and Scottish ballads. But it did occur to me it was a bit odd hearing Harvard students singing about how rough it was working in the coal mines.

[laughs] Right.

But we had fun with it. Club 47 [now Passim] was one block from my dorm. I almost flunked out because of Club 47. In fact I came so close to flunking out, I decided to take a year off to see if I could make a living at this folk music thing. The answer was: just barely. [laughs] I came back after a year. 

You hosted a radio show on Harvard’s station.

It was called Balladeers. I had to go to local hootnannies to recruit guests to sing. I discovered you could get in for free if you had a guitar with you. Then I discovered you could get in for free if you had a guitar case with you. I’d put a six-pack in the case and head off to the hoots.

I got caught one night at the Golden Vanity in Boston. The boss said, “Hey, kid, you got in for nothing. Get on stage.” I borrowed a guitar, and it went over well enough that he started bringing me back anytime somebody canceled. I was a substitute folk singer. Soon I started getting $10 a night. This is back when $10 was probably worth $12.

[laughs] The good old days. You graduated in ’63, and have been playing ever since. Looking back, what are some career highlights?

Oh, boy, that’s a tough one. Meeting Joni and Jackson and James were all milestones, although I didn’t really realize it at the time. I don’t know. It’s just been a lot of fun. This is my 67th annual farewell tour. I’m looking forward to the next 67.

I was going to say, I talked to you more than five years ago for your farewell tour.

Someday I’ll do a “This Time I Really Mean It Farewell Tour: Year 1.”

[laughs] You once told me a great story about riding the Festival Express, a train going through Canada in 1970, with the Grateful Dead, The Band, Janis Joplin, the Flying Burrito Brothers. The trip was made into a documentary in 2003.

It was a funny deal. The heir to a furniture store fortune in Canada decided he wanted to do a coast-to-coast music tour with a bunch of famous acts playing stadiums. The tour started in Toronto and ended in Calgary. We drank the train dry two hours out of Toronto. We made them stop at this little whistle-stop town, went to the local booze store and bought everything. Every bottle.

They hired this train that usually took families on vacation. The crew didn’t know what to make of all these long-haired weirdos smoking strange things in all hours of the night.

[laughs] I bet.

Everybody agreed this was a great party. At one point there was discussion that we should just hire the train, party until we ran out of money, play a stadium or two to replenish the bank account, then go back to partying. It didn’t happen, but I thought it was a great idea.

Speaking of other weird times, you have a tale about Clint Eastwood and a pot brownie. 

I was living in Greenwich Village at the time. A fan sent me a box of brownies with a note that said: “One is loaded.” I thought, “How do you load just one brownie? That’s nonsense.” So I ate about half a brownie, and started feeling weird.

[laughs] Right.

Columbia was hosting an album release party for me at a club about six blocks away. I had to get there. I got halfway across the park next to the building, and I couldn’t remember where I was going or why.  Then I figured it out, and started off again. 

I went down this side street. It was all lit up. There were sawhorses in front of this apartment building. I’m standing there wondering what’s going on. 

Suddenly this woman runs screaming out of the apartment building, with Clint Eastwood chasing her. Then some random guy in the crowd vaults over a sawhorse and cold-clocked Clint Eastwood. Knocked him out. 

[laughs] Amazing. So the guy didn’t know they were filming a movie.

And I’m stoned out of my tree trying to figure out what’s happening. [laughs] I finally made it to the club to play guitar, but at this point it had a rubber neck. It kept bending all over the place.

A classic. I know you’ve got connections to the living inductees. Do you have any connections to any of the legacy inductees?

Who? Oh, the dead people.

[laughs] Yes.

[laughs] I have one Leonard Cohen story. We were sitting in a bar in New York City, chatting, and I asked what he was writing about these days. He said, “I’ve run out of things to write about. I’m going to take a couple years off and live” — to basically accumulate more material. I thought, “Well, that’s an interesting idea. Maybe I should do that.”

Lauren Daley is a freelance culture writer. She can be reached at [email protected]. She tweets @laurendaley1, and Instagrams at @laurendaley1. Read more stories on Facebook here.

Lauren Daley is a longtime culture journalist. As a regular contributor to Boston.com, she interviews A-list musicians, actors, authors and other major artists.