TWO MYSTERIES IN TWO BEETLES

Elizabeth Converse was born and raised in New Hampshire under a fairly strict religious upbringing. However, her parents did encourage her and her two brothers to pursue artistic and creative endeavors, and Elizabeth was constantly reading, writing, drawing, painting and performing music while growing up. She excelled academically and received a full scholarship to Mount Holyoke College. Elizabeth always hated her given name, and at college, fellow students started calling her “Connie” and it stuck. After two years of studies, Connie dropped out of school to settle in New York’s Greenwich Village in the early 1950s to become a writer and musician. She meticulously wrote and tape recorded her songs, sending out copies to record companies, managers and publishers. She never played live gigs to become part of the Village’s burgeoning folk scene, but she did perform on The Morning Show, hosted by Walter Cronkite, in 1954. Sadly, only a few screenshots of the television appearance survive.

Audio tapes recorded by herself and friends were finally released in 2009 and are the only available source for Converse’s own performances. Her songs defy a pat description. Loneliness and sadness are common lyrical themes, though her sardonic humor often unexpectedly shines through. Her phrasing has an unfamiliar precise formality that feels a little uncomfortable, yet is still very enchanting. Musically, her songs feature unusual chords and progressions that don’t seem to land in any known genre. These are not conventional folk tunes, nor pop or even classical ones. (It’s interesting to note that an album of Connie’s piano songs, taken from her written manuscripts, were recorded by other musicians and resemble classically influenced pieces. But a single recording by Converse singing at the piano that ends the album is unmistakably in her style and not classical at all.)

After almost ten years of trying to get her music heard, Converse left New York in January 1961 to live closer to her brother in Ann Arbor, never to pursue her songwriting again. She was the editor of a scholarly journal at the University of Michigan for twelve years, until Yale took over the publication and she lost her job. She grew increasingly depressed and friends funded a trip to London in an attempt to give her some direction, but she returned six months later in much the same state. In August 1974, a few days after her 50th birthday, Converse wrote letters to family and friends saying she wanted to start a new life. She sent her brother a check and asked him to continue making her health insurance payments until a certain date. Converse then packed her belongings into her VW Beetle and drove away, never to be seen or heard from again. Her car was never found. Her family suspects that Connie committed suicide by driving into a lake or river.

There’s a highway
Telling me to go where I can
Such a long way
I don’t even know where I am

Such a long way
Long, long, way

Gonna sit right here where I am

Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter Jim Sullivan packed up his VW Beetle in March 1975, planning on going to Nashville. Sullivan was a popular draw at Malibu’s The Raft and other L.A. area clubs, with two albums under his belt. But the six-year struggle was wearing on him and his family, so he decided to take one last chance in Nashville and kickstart his music career. Only one day after he left, Sullivan’s wife Barbara received a call from him assuring her he was all right. When pressed for more details, he said, “You wouldn’t believe if I told you,” and indicated that he’d call again when he got to Nashville. That call never came.

The Raft was a popular hangout for celebrities and Sullivan met quite a few Hollywood actors and directors, such as Dennis Hopper and Harry Dean Stanton, who helped finance his first LP UFO in 1969. The album is a superb, tuneful collection of psychedelic-tinged folk, commanded by Sullivan’s engaging vocals and powerful guitar strumming. His self-titled 1972 album went for a slightly more rock and blues oriented sound that was no less captivating than the debut.

A box of these two LPs was found, along with Sullivan’s wallet, clothes and guitar, in his car, 24 miles outside of Santa Mesa, New Mexico. Apparently, a few days earlier, Sullivan had been pulled over by the police for driving erratically. He passed a sobriety test and was told to go rest at the La Mesa Motel in Santa Mesa. Police say his room was never used. Sullivan was last seen the next day by a ranch hand who worked at the ranch near where the car was found. This property happened to be mafia owned, so one theory is that Sullivan ran into the wrong people when looking for assistance and was murdered. What really happened remains a mystery.

It appears the mid-1970s weren’t a good time to start a new life in a VW Beetle! A weird coincidence??

AUGUST 15, 2022