Skywalker Songtext
von Tom Wilson

He was an iron worker in Detroit. He came home every Friday night and

Woke up on Saturday morning to deliver oil to the houses in this

Town, with his brother, my grandfather, John Lazar. He worked like a

Dog, and he lived like a lover. Now, every Sunday, my cousin Shelley

Cooks up steak and Mohawk cornbread. The cornbread they make in
Kahnawà:ke isn′t the same as the well-known Southern cornbread you
Find on your plate across the United States in restaurants, barbecues
, Home kitchens, or in those roadside Cracker Barrels. Kahnawà
Ke cornbread comes in a larger serving, comes soft and hot and moist
With kidney beans and sausages buried in it, steak and gravy all
Around it. Reminds me of a big matzo ball. Corn, beans, squash are
The three sisters, the life givers. Steak and cornbread is the Sunday
Tradition that's rolled over the plates of iron workers and the iron
Working community and their families for many decades. The meal

Before the long drive. The men would travel home from New York every

Friday night, and then they′d leave again every Sunday morning for

The drive back to their jobs. It's the family ritual, the gathering

And the sendoff for fathers and brothers by their families. It was a

Way of life then. It's a way of life now. The road back to New York


Placed a heavy load on the shoulders of these mighty men. Some never

Got used to leaving their homes and their families. Some couples

Married 42 years only lived with each other as husband and wife for

10, ′Cause he was always gone. My brother Kyle talks about driving

Back, about how quiet it gets in the car. It′s like a weekly high-

Speed funeral procession. The men are like the last revelers to leave

The party. All the way out of town, their heads bowed in their chest

Except for the driver. They say Sunday afternoons are lonesome, even

Before they leave. Arguments break out between husbands and wives

Some arguments that have been going on for generations. And some

Fights that went on between my father and his wife - I wasn't there -

But my father, my grandfather and six generations of family lived the


Iron worker way of life, and they all had the same problems. Nobody
Wants to leave their families, their homes, their front porches or
Backyards, especially their kids. The men were leaving on Sunday
Night. They wouldn′t be back until the next Friday. They were fed
Their dinner at 6, in bed by 7. They're up at midnight while the
Families are asleep, and they stumble into cars with four other guys
Sleeping silent, the air inside thick, with mouths gaping open for
The five-hour drive. Then they wake up in Brooklyn just in time to
Get over to Manhattan for work. These men were and are living
Legends, the Skywalkers for close to 130 years. Men leave during

Wars, during hunting seasons, trapping, whatever. Men leave. They

Leave to provide for their families. They leave for money. Some leave

For fame. These guys were giants amongst us, with superpowers. They

Were the guys who the world thought were wild daredevils who rolled

With the clouds and swung from the stars. People thought they did

What they did in a fearless fashion, but they were all afraid of

Falling just like the next guy. They just didn′t talk about it 'cause
They were Mohawks. As you drive under the tunnel, if you ever have a
Chance to drive under the bridge, on the eastern side of Kahnawà:ke
There′s a steel cross that's been erected in memory of the men who
Fell to their deaths off the Quebec Bridge. 1907, 33 men died on that
Bridge beside Kahnawà:ke. The men got together. The women got
Together, told the men that they didn't want a large group working on
A job ever again. But time passed, and the work came in as America
Was being built into the sky. And the men did what they wanted and
Felt they had to do anyway. The tradition became a way of life, and

The way of life gave birth to tradition. On 9/11, when the World

Trade Center came down, it was my brother who cleaned up what was

Left of the towers that my great uncle Walter and 500 other Mohawks

Built and eased into the sky over Manhattan. Uncle Walter watched

On TV. He watched the great antenna come down, the one that he helped

Stick up in the air. When he saw it fall on the north tower, his

Heart sank. His spirit went down with it, and he was overcome with

Sadness and emptiness. He worked for 10 years on that project

Starting in 1969. And there was great pride burning and crumbling

There in Manhattan. My brother Kyle walked into Ground Zero through

Mounds of twisted iron and steel. The world down there was on fire

So unpredictable, so dangerous. And he and 200 other Mohawks had to

Move these mountains so that the firemen could get underneath and
Do their job. He was working down there, working hard. He was pulling
Wreckage away. He was a mighty man. And then he came upon this giant
Piece sticking out of the ground, looking like a rocket. And he
Stood staring at it and realized that it was our uncle Walter′s
Antenna. When Kyle finally got a break, a chance to go back home
He washed, cleansed himself with tobacco water because he had parts
Of all those people who died there inside his system. He said that
It′s part of the responsibility of the people who died there. Those
Lost souls are carried on by the Mohawk iron workers. Even the non-

Iron working households wake up on Sundays for steak and cornbread
Because somewhere along the way, there's a man heading
Back to Manhattan to climb into the clouds, to breathe
The air that no one has ever breathed before. And
The feed is still on, even after the jobs are over