You expect famous folks to be, well, famously noticeable. You expect a fanfare. Maybe a body guard. At least dark glasses.

Not so with Noel Paul Stookey. You might not even see him sitting unassumingly on a bench at Bangor International Airport.

Then again, you MIGHT see him. Not because he’s “Paul” of the folk group Peter, Paul and Mary, renowned in the 1960s for such hits as “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “Puff (The Magic Dragon).” But because he doesn’t exactly look like a Bangor kind of guy. He looks like a dandy in a tan and beige seersucker suit and white sneakers. He looks like he could, at any moment, stand up, put on a boater, grab a cane and do a little soft-shoe.

Instead, he just smiles, politely stands up and offers a friendly hand to shake. He’s hungry, he says, and invites you to breakfast in an airport restaurant. In an hour, he’ll be leaving on a jet plane, and he’d like to eat before he boards.

As it turns out, he does know when he’ll be back again — in time for a concert he’s giving May 16 at The Grand in Ellsworth. It’s a benefit for George Stevens Academy in Blue Hill.

Stookey, who is 58, still performs with Peter Yarrow and Mary Travers about 40 times a year. In fact, the last time he showed up big time in the local news, he had performed with them at the Blue Hill Fairgrounds.

But he also has a solo career and, as a Blue Hill Falls resident, he has a civic duty. Several times a year, he does fund-raisers in Maine, where he has lived with his wife Betty since the early 1970s.

“Old folk singers never die. They just do benefits,” jokes Stookey.

In the restaurant, he saunters to the counter and gives a big hello to all the staff.

“Where’s the master chef?” he calls out congenially over the stainless steel shelf.

“Hey, you’ll never guess who’s here,” one of the cooks shouts toward a back room.

It’s the type of thing you’d see in an old Jimmy Stewart movie.

As Stookey leans over the high counter, which is easy for him to do because he’s so tall, he adopts a Down East accent and greets one of the workers. “Hey darlin’,” he says amiably.

“I’ve become a grammy since I seen you last,” she warmly brags.

“Yeah?” Stookey says, with brows arching over his blue eyes. “Well I guess I do see a little gray hair.”

The woman boisterously and fondly reprimands him.

During breakfast, several BIA employees — all of whom Stookey knows — visit table side. But no one else bothers him as he eats an egg sandwich and muffin.

“People are really sensitive,” he says of living in Maine. “They recognize that Blue Hill is a safe harbor for me, and they don’t want to make waves. It’s like being with an old friend.”

In the course of his meal, Stookey talks about regularly playing the old Peter, Paul and Mary hits at his concerts. (“You can’t do anything for 35 years and not expect to do some of THAT.”) He talks about a computer bulletin board he helped establish and chats on frequently. (“I feel it’s terribly important to come into a public place where no one knows me, and make a contribution.”) He reveals the program for the upcoming concert. (“I’ll do some Peter, Paul and Mary tunes and some new stuff. I’ll talk and get nervous, be funny and do sound effects. My neighbors encourage me to do this whereas Peter and Mary would roll their eyes and give me an elbow.”)

When he talks about a lifelong interest in animation, he picks up two plastic coffee creamers, sticks straws into them, and brings them to life. “Here they are dancing,” he says, wriggling them through the air. “And here they are talking,” he adds, moving the creamers for a jolly tete-a-tete.

An airline pilot at a nearby table watches blankly as Stookey goes through the routine for at least one giggling taker.

“I have so many interests,” Stookey says, when the conversation moves back to his career. “But I somehow ended up in music.”

Later, Stookey openly and happily shares some thoughts on another big part of his life: spirituality. He is talking about “spontaneous and honest attempts to touch the mystical and revered,” when there is an announcement about the departure of his flight to New Jersey. He is going there to perform a benefit for a religious group.

At the airport metal detector, Stookey places his bag on a conveyor belt, turns, says “Come to the concert.” Then “God be with you.” And as quietly as this American legend of folk music arrived, he is leaving.

Noel Paul Stookey will perform 7:30 p.m. May 16 at The Grand Auditorium in Ellsworth. For tickets, call 667-9500.