‘We Were Hoping You’d Do It for Free’: A Children’s Songwriter on Art, Joy and Getting Paid

“We were hoping you’d do it for free.”

I’ve heard that sentence many times in my 33 years as a Jewish children’s singer and songwriter. 

I often think back to “Chicken Soup,” my very first children’s song, inspired by my Bubbie, my sweet grandmother, giving me a matzah ball for the first time. I remember the work the song took — making it both funny and moving, finding a melodic hook that worked, then workshopping it with kids at my Jewish camp and seeing how happy it made them. 

I remember meeting with the costume designer, creating the chicken wings — large, soft, wearable — and the chicken heads — easy to slip on and visually striking. I pictured how I wanted it to work onstage: one costume on an adult, one on a kid, me saying, “You flap when I say these lyrics: ‘Chicken soup in a metal pot, chicken soup, Bubbie said it was a gift from God’ — and bawk a little. When the chorus ends, stand happily until I get back to the chorus again. Then flap again!”

And I love the performances. The laughter. Kids, parents, grandparents. The joy in the room. 

I am lucky to have a profession I love. The gratitude I feel knowing I created something that brings people together, makes them smile, pulls up memories of their own bubbies, is infinite. 

And then those words. The ones that land like a little sting every time.

“We were hoping you’d do it for free because…”

• “Robbo, it’s exposure.”

• “It’s for the children.”

• “Because it’s music.”

• “It’s fun!”

Sometimes I do perform for free — at hospitals, nursing homes and for places I know are truly struggling. I’m grateful I can give that way.

But often, it’s not that.

It’s Jewish organizations — really, the people representing them — asking:

“Can you donate it? Can you bring your costumes, props, sound equipment, material, energy, joy and passion and just, you know… give it to us?”

I’ve had friends who love my work ask me this, talking about “exposure” as if it were currency I could spend on my mortgage, or a guarantee that someone else will hire me next time — for pay.

 Recently, a perfectly nice, friendly woman asked me to perform. I presented my fee, and she replied with the line: “We were hoping you’d do it for free.”

I said, “No, I get paid to do my work. If you don’t want to meet my fee, no problem.”

She met it. 

A few days later, I happened to be in a room full of artists doing an improv show for an organ donation organization. I told them what had happened. They exploded:

“Ugh, you too?”

“They think they can do what we do—that it’s easy.”

I asked if they thought I should say something to her. They all said yes.

So I did. Gently. I said, “May I suggest that you not ask artists to do their work for free? We put a lot into what we do.”

Her answer honestly took my breath away. She seemed genuinely puzzled.

She said, “If I can get it for nothing …  shouldn’t I ask?”

Many of you might think she has a valid point — this will save money for your nonprofit or your school. But would you ask a teacher to tutor your child for free, an Uber driver to drive you to the airport for free, or your dentist to fill a cavity for free?

I took a breath and said, still kindly, “That’s what I’m trying to say. I submit to you that you should never ask an artist to work for ‘nothing.’”  

She paused for a long moment and finally said, “Ohhhhh.”

Yes. “Ohhhhh.”

The thing about artists is that we love our work. Our passion is so deep that we cannot help ourselves — we must create. It’s hard for us to say no when we know that the impact of our work will be meaningful. Please don’t make us tell you that our work is valuable — if you are asking me to perform, you already know it is, so come to us honestly and fairly. Most artists, including me, will work within your budget, but please don’t lowball us. It’s painful and directly affects our livelihood and that of our families.

 I will never forget the girl using a walker who came up to me after a show and said, “Your show made my life better.”

I wept in the car. I am, in many ways, the luckiest man alive.

If I could pay for my life with warm feelings like that little girl gave me, I would. In a second. But I can’t. Sometimes I need tires. And shelter. And food.

So when you say, “We were hoping you’d do it for free,” it puts us in a painful spot. Honestly, I’d love to be able to perform for free every time.

But I can’t.

So please — understand what goes into giving you a good show. Understand the years, the craft, the preparation, the heart.

And don’t ask.  

Robb “Robbo” Zelonky is an award-winning children’s singer, songwriter, and songleader with five children’s albums on Apple Music and Spotify. He has performed at the White House three times and co-headlined with Arlo Guthrie. He has been the beloved songleader and drama director at Camp JCA Shalom for over 30 years and now enjoys summers singing with the children of former campers.