Jimmy Carter’s deep connection to music, especially gospel, was more than just a personal joy — it was a reflection of his broader worldview and presidency. Music served as both solace and strategy, uniting Americans across divides of race, region and politics. Carter used music as a powerful tool to embody and promote his vision of unity, human rights, and healing — a vision that resonates even more poignantly as the nation reflects on his legacy following his death on Sunday at 100.

In the late summer of 1979, partway through his third year as president, Jimmy Carter hosted an afternoon of gospel music at the White House. Blankets covered the grass on the South Lawn as over 800 attendees ate fried chicken, potato salad and coleslaw on paper plates.

“Gospel music is really rural music from the country. It has both Black and white derivations; it’s not a racial kind of music,” President Carter said to the crowd. “But I think it’s important to recognize that gospel music is derived from deep within the heart of human beings — it’s a music of pain, a music of longing, a music of searching, a music of hope, and a music of faith.”

Since he entered hospice care in February 2023, a lot has been shared about his life. The first president to be born in a hospital was a man of many anomalies. He grew up without electricity and running water in the segregated south, yet most of his friends before he left for the Naval Academy in 1943 were African Americans. He was a peanut farmer, a nuclear engineer, a carpenter and a poet whose simple writing illuminated the historical reckoning and soul of America.

One of his first official acts as governor of Georgia in 1971 was to refute the segregationist pride of his predecessor Lester Maddox, the former Georgia governor and Democratic populist, by displaying a portrait of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in the capitol and by stating “the time for racial discrimination is over.” This surprised many Georgians who voted for Carter.

During his presidency, he was a champion for the environment installing solar panels at the White House. He was a staunch advocate for women’s rights, civil rights and human rights, and was a pivotal figure in the progressive New South movement, looking to modernize social attitudes ingrained in the culture of the Old South.

Though arguably one of the most pietistic, genuine and well-intentioned presidents of the 20th century, Carter’s presidency was clouded by challenges, many of which were out of his control. In 1979, Iranian students stormed the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, taking 52 American diplomats hostage for 444 days. “I would play Willie Nelson music primarily,” Carter said, of the time that he spent alone, in his study, “so I could think about my problems and say a few prayers.” A failed rescue attempt was also a significant blow to his presidency, ultimately stymieing his reelection. Fuel shortages created high oil prices. Carter struggled to effectively address high inflation, high unemployment and slow economic growth that came to be known as “stagflation.” Also, the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan marked a setback in the Cold War.

“Music was a way Carter could insulate himself from the political noise,” says Iwan Morgan, emeritus professor of U.S. Studies at University College London. Morgan was in the United States, doing an exchange teaching job from August 1979 to September 1980 in Fort Wayne, Indiana. He recalled that the hostages were the most fundamental thing on people’s minds ultimately blighting the final years of Carter’s presidency.

“Music was a way of touching the soul, probably the closest man has to do that. And music was a comfort for Carter,” Morgan says. “I’m not saying it helped him make good decisions. By any standard the attempted rescue of the Iranian hostages was a longshot highly likely to end in failure and gave Carter no real chance thereafter of negotiating the release of the hostages.”

Chuck Leavell, the keyboardist for the Allman Brothers Band during the band’s rise to fame in the 1970s, came to know Jimmy Carter when he was governor of Georgia. They’d been friends ever since. Leavell would visit the Carters in Plains or Jimmy and Rosalyn would visit Leavell’s homeplace at the Charlane Woodlands and Preserve in Dry Branch, Georgia for hunting trips. Carter would always ask Leavell to play something on the piano.

“I played ‘Georgia on My Mind’ for him and probably did the Allman Brothers song ‘Statesboro Blues’,” Leavell told me. “And again, just, you know, the smile that would get on his face and his eyes would light up. And, you know, it’s not like he was jumping around and dancing. Don’t get me wrong. You know, he wasn’t that kind of guy. He didn’t react in that way, but he was listening, always listening intently. You could just see it. And, you know, even though he didn’t play an instrument himself, I think he had something in his DNA that felt the music, not only heard it, but felt it.”

Carter wasn’t initially well-known outside of Georgia, and an endorsement from the Allman Brothers Band in 1975, some three months before the Iowa caucuses, helped increase his candidacy, particularly among young Americans. There was a feeling at the time that young people were in charge. 1972 was the first year that 18-to-21-year-olds could cast a ballot, making the youth vote more important than ever before.

So Carter both naturally and strategically aligned himself with musicians to give him a crucial boost during the Democratic primaries. A major strategy for Carter’s presidential campaign was to put on concerts on the campaign trail. It started with the Marshall Tucker Band headlining a concert at the Fox Theater in Atlanta on Oct. 31, 1975, then the Allman Brothers Band on Nov. 25 at Providence Civic Center in Providence Rhode Island, and Charlie Daniels at the Fox Theater in Atlanta on Jan. 14, 1976. Jimmy Buffett put on a benefit for Carter in Portland, Oregon. These concerts not only brought notoriety to the Carter campaign, they also brought in a lot of money that could be matched by the federal government.

“Musicians don’t always feel safe with somebody except other musicians,” says Chris Farrell, lead producer of the documentary “Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President.” “His authenticity definitely played a great role in his ability to connect with musicians.”

The music of change at that time was rock and roll. When Gregg Allman was arrested for trying to acquire pharmaceutical grade cocaine, and testified to get out of serving a prison sentence, Jimmy never turned on Allman. He could have said, “this is too big of a risk for me” and ended his association with the Allman Brothers. “But he didn’t judge people,” Farrell says. “He just cared about who you were as an individual and that’s very spiritual in a very Christian sort of view of the world. And I think that carried over into politics; he didn’t care if you were a Republican or a Democrat. If you’re trying to do the right thing, then why can’t we all do this together? So I think it was not political expediency or effectiveness or, you know, a gimmick. I think that’s just who he was.”

Carter won the presidency in 1976, and was inaugurated in 1977. The cowboy-Western film star John Wayne spoke at the inaugural ball. As a conservative, he still wished Carter well. Paul Simon sang. So did Charlie Daniels. Aretha Franklin sang “God Bless America.” Coming out of Watergate, there was a sense too that America needed to heal together. Through music, but also through unifying Republicans and Democrats alike.

“John Wayne worked with President Carter to give the Panama Canal back to the Panamanian people,” says Mary Wharton, director of “Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President.” “It’s that old line about people who forget about history are doomed to repeat it. And unfortunately, we’re repeating the things in history that we didn’t pay attention to.”

When he was president, dozens of musicians came to the White House for themed music nights. In April, 1978 Loretta Lynn, Tom T. Hall, and Conway Twitty were invited to an evening devoted to celebrating country music. Dizzy Gillespie, Herbie Hancock, Dexter Gordon, George Benson, Ron Carter and Tony Williams played a jazz event. It was an honor for Carter to bring jazz musicians who hadn’t been recognized by the government to the White House. He used music as a way for people to see a common humanity among different races, religions and cultural backgrounds. He felt jazz helped break down the racial divide in the country. Cecil Taylor, Chick Correa — their presence wasn’t just for performance. Their inclusion was a statement against racial prejudice, a reminder of music’s potential to dissolve barriers. Carter felt deeply that jazz and country music represented America. Carter also used music to entertain and educate members of Congress. He held a Nascar event, where country singer Willie Nelson performed on the South Lawn.

It’s as if Carter used music as a reflective mindfulness practice, decades before the mainstream was aware of what mindfulness is.

The Carter administration never dropped a bomb, fired a missile or shot a bullet to kill another person. After his presidency, the Carter Center helped eradicate Guinea worm disease. For 35 years, he spent at least a week every year building houses for Habitat for Humanity.

In the days and weeks to come, I imagine a revisionist history about Carter’s presidency will begin to unravel. This began in 2020, with the release of the documentary “Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President,” and will continue, especially now during a time where the world seems more divided than ever. Carter was a president with a lot of faith and a lot of soul. He cried when thinking of his wife of 77 years, Rosalynn. The man was calculated and believed in the power of music.

Scholars and historians will remember that Carter wanted to represent America’s value system by making human rights the center of his foreign policy. He helped broker the Camp David Accords, a negotiated peace agreement between Israel and Egypt, marking the first time an Arab country recognized Israel.

When I remember Carter, I will think of a man listening to the painful ballads of Willie Nelson when trying to be mindful and make sense of complex problems. I will also think of Jan Williams, the pianist at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, Georgia. “Carter said he couldn’t sing,” she told me. “But I liked his voice.” The late president first attended Maranatha Baptist Church in 1981 and started teaching Sunday School there until 2015. “His favorite song was always ‘When I Get To Heaven’,” Williams says, thinking of Jimmy reunited with his Rosalynn again.