Luke and the Power of His Force

On a good night, Luke Hunsberger breaks at least two guitar strings during a five hour performance at Holyoke Center. Each time one pops, he stops his strumming, sometimes says a word or two and pauses for a couple of minutes to fix the string.

It is the only break he takes.

Last winter, a year after leaving a $31,000 a year job, he learned to survive by not stopping. "I played when it was 25 degrees out. If you're drinking coffee and playing songs continuously, your hands manage to stay warm, and you don't die."

He brings plenty of extra strings, business cards, and always several Dennis the Artist tapes--an album of 10 original Hunsberger tunes. The tape costs $4; if you ask him, he'll play a couple of his songs.

Several nights a week, Hunsberger sets up his guitar, microphone and amplifier a little before 7 p.m. in front of the Cambridge Trust Bank. After a short time, people watching the chess master, buying food in Au Bon Pain, or just walking along Mass. Ave. stop, listen, and sometimes begin to dance.

"It's almost that the crowd has to get into it a little bit before I can totally let go," Hunsberger says. "I put out the first thing by playing there, and if the crowd responds at all it just builds on one another. And that's what you're looking for."

Hunsberger has been playing rock-n-roll in Harvard Square since early 1984, when, at age 25, he left his job at MITRE, a non-profit company that advises the Air Force on technical matters. He worked there for a year and a half after receiving a Master's degree in Mathematics from the University of Oregon. Now he plays Dylan and Beatles songs in the street.

"Society taught me from the time I was born that I could never succeed at being a musician. I went to college. I got a job. But all along, my intellect was slowly catching up to the fact that I could do what I wanted," the musician says now.

He earns his modest income playing at Holyoke Center and one lunchtime a week at the Downtown Crossing. Occasionally he is hired by someone who sees him playing in the street. Last spring he performed at the freshman picnic for the Freshman Dean's Office and during commencement at the Kennedy School for the 10th reunion.

The Cambridge rules governing street performers are strict, allowing performances with a valid permit in only two places. Hunsberger says he found the enforcement of the regulations inconsistent at best. But Holyoke Center, perhaps the best place to perform because of its location just off a very busy street, is Harvard property and governed by Harvard Real Estate--in October, Hunsberger got a Harvard permit, which is free, and has been a regular ever since.

Between Neil Young and Simon & Garfunkel hits, Hunsberger takes requests, while sipping the coffee, which he receives free from Au Bon Pain and which is quickly becoming his trademark. He masters new songs as fast as he can; he just learned Don McClean's "American Pie," a song many people ask him to play.

One Friday night, while singing the Beatles' "Twist and Shout," Hunsberger received harmony from three fans in the crowd. It was vintage "Luke, with hundreds of strangers singing and humming together.

"There's a problem in our society that people don't intermingle well. There's a lot of inhibitions in Harvard Square. It seems to me that a little guitar playing, a little dancing, a little screaming, and people can have some fun."

When speaking, Hunsberger often rambles. He may begin by talking about his feelings of having worked for a military-related company, and suddenly about the fuzziness of quantum mechanics. "Late-night pondering is what I'm all about," he says.

"My only goal is to play some good songs that people will like. I feel I can make a better contribution just trying to get my own mind straight, producing some ideas, and writing songs, playing them, and pointing out things that some other people don't have the time to think about."

Although Hunsberger has found his niche in Harvard Square and is earning more money than when he first hit the street, he admits his occupation has its hazards. "You don't know if it's going to rain, if you're not going to make enough money tonight." But he doesn't seem to worry. "There's little bit of background tension, but I'm doing all right. If the worst thing that could happen to me is that I'll be a street musician in Harvard Square for the rest of my life, that wouldn't be so bad."