You know that feeling when a song feels like it’s being whispered directly into your ear by someone who knows all your secrets? That’s basically the Leonard Cohen experience. But before the fedora, the gravelly baritone, and the worldwide "Hallelujah" obsession, there was a woman, a river, and a cup of tea.
The Leonard Cohen song Suzanne isn't just a 1960s folk standard. It is a literal map of a specific time in Montreal. Honestly, most people think it's a typical "I love you" ballad. It isn't. It’s a reportage of a platonic friendship that was so intense it felt more intimate than most marriages.
The Woman Behind the Song
Her name was Suzanne Verdal. She was a dancer, a mother, and the wife of Cohen's friend, the sculptor Armand Vaillancourt. Back in the mid-sixties, Montreal was this boiling pot of bohemian energy. Cohen was a poet then—not yet a "singer"—and he was captivated by her.
He didn't make up the "place near the river." She actually had a loft in a warehouse near the St. Lawrence River. He didn't invent the "tea and oranges." She specifically served him Constant Comment tea, which is famous for having little rinds of orange in the blend.
A Love Without the Sex
People always assume they were having a torrid affair. They weren't. Both Cohen and Verdal have been very clear about this over the decades.
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- The Bounday: Verdal was the one who kept it platonic. She felt a sexual encounter would "demean" the spiritual connection they had.
- The Lyrics: When he sings about touching her "perfect body with your mind," he means it literally. It was an intellectual and spiritual seduction, not a physical one.
- The Context: In 1960s society, this kind of "wavelength" connection between a man and a married woman was radical. It was a union of souls.
Why the Jesus Verse is Actually About Montreal
If you’ve listened to the song, the second verse always feels a bit jarring. Suddenly, we’re talking about Jesus being a sailor and watching from a "lonely wooden tower." What does that have to do with a girl in Old Montreal?
Everything.
Montreal has often been called the "Jerusalem of the North." In the old port area where Suzanne lived, there is a famous church called Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours. It’s known as the Sailors' Church. On top of it sits a statue of the Virgin Mary, "Our Lady of the Harbour," with her arms outstretched toward the water.
When you climb the tower of that church, you look out over the St. Lawrence. Cohen saw the parallels between the spiritual "drowning" of humanity and the literal sailors heading out to sea. He was weaving the sacred and the profane together. To him, Suzanne was just as holy as the icons in the church.
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The Tragedy of the Rights
Here is the part that sucks: Leonard Cohen didn't make money from this song for a long time.
He was a poet, not a businessman. When he was first starting out, he signed some papers he didn't fully understand. Basically, he signed away the rights to "Suzanne," "Stranger Song," and "Dress Rehearsal Rag."
Imagine writing one of the most covered songs in history—Nina Simone, Neil Diamond, Joan Baez, and Peter Gabriel all did versions—and not seeing the royalties. He eventually got the rights back years later, but for a long time, his most famous "child" belonged to a stranger.
What Happened to the Real Suzanne?
Life wasn't a poem for Suzanne Verdal. While Cohen became a global icon, she struggled.
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By the late 1990s, she was living in a truck in Venice Beach, California. A bad fall had ended her dancing career, and she found herself homeless. It’s a haunting image—the woman who wore "rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters" in the song ended up actually living that reality in her later years.
She and Cohen rarely spoke after the 60s. She saw him backstage once in the 70s, and he told her, "You gave me a beautiful song, girl." But that was mostly it. The song became a monument, while the person it was about moved into the shadows.
How to Truly Listen to the Song
If you want to get the most out of the Leonard Cohen song Suzanne, stop looking for a hook. It’s not a pop song.
- Notice the tempo. It’s a walking pace. It’s meant to mimic the stroll they took through Old Montreal.
- Look for the "garbage and the flowers." Cohen’s genius was finding beauty in the discarded. Suzanne was an "early eco-activist" who found treasures at the Salvation Army.
- Acknowledge the "blindness." To travel "blind" means to trust someone completely without knowing the destination. It’s the ultimate form of surrender.
The song is a reminder that some of the most profound relationships in our lives aren't the ones that end in a "happily ever after." They are the brief, crystalline moments where two people truly see each other.
Take a walk by a river this week. Drink a cup of orange-scented tea. Don't look for a grand romance—just look for someone who gets you on their wavelength. That’s where the real magic is.