I hope you enjoy these. More tomorrow and a full length review by Tuesday or Wednesday.
The last day of Jam Camp is one of performance anxiety, practice, continued learning, sadness, and relief. We all know we’re headed for the Cabin Stage at Merlefest this afternoon. Pete tires to keep us relaxed about the vent, where he says the people in their seats will be very supportive and are eager to see us. His hypothesis is that we’re ordinary folks on stag
e performing and the people in their seats connect to us and give us more support than they would give professional musicians. At the same time, the Jam Camp performance at various festivals serves as an important recruiting device for future camps, so he want our performance to achieve a certain level of quality. Someone in the group has suggested we collect some money for the women in the kitchen. They’re called out and applauded and feel it necessary to hug each one of us individually. A nice moment. Most of us have never been on the other side of the stage. This means we’re quite apprehensive about learning our songs well and not messing up. 
sponsible for singing one song it has prepared for the rest of the camp. We’ve been working on “In the Pines,” a slow and doleful piece for which we can manage the chord changes and tempo. We’ve practiced it some already, and today we’ll get the honor of having Pete work with us intensively. First, we go over the logistics of getting to the Wilkes Community College Campus and getting out of camp. We practice harmony some more as well as Pete giving us a few more stories. We’re all eager to get to our groups, so there’s some restiveness.
hat plague members of our group: timing, chord changes, knowing the words. Pete is supportive and helpful and we relax under his instruction. We then turn to our performance song. Group members who did their parts well yesterday flub when sitting with Pete and we work through the issues again. Irene continues to provide leadership through encouragement and example. We improve slowly, and by the lunch break, we’re relatively ready to go.
Wonders Never Cease. I’m asked to act as group emcee. This goes quickly, Cleve kicks off the song, and we work through it with a minimum of flubs and with cheers for each solo. Other groups follow with increasing levels of competence. The last group does quite well and we all congratulate ourselves. After the Opry, Pete singles out several people for what he calls the Jam Camp Hero awards. They go to people who’ve contributed to camp through their skills and spirit. To our surprise, Irene, a first time camper, is singled out for the final award, much to the approval of all.
atens become a train wreck, a term we though was limited to use for songs that fall apart. We arrive at the lot and the volunteer staff has not idea we’re coming, isn’t prepared for twenty cars and thirty-six people carrying instruments, doesn’t know where to park us, and no vans are anywhere in evidence. Our performance is scheduled for
We mill around. Some people pull out cell phones. We plead our case with bus drivers, who are willing to take us to the main entrance but not to alter their route to take us back stage, something they should not do anyway. The group’s biggest concern is for Pete, who, they think, will be frantic worrying that we’re not there Finally, a bunch of vans arrive, as 4:30 approaches. We stuff ourselves and our instruments into the vans and are whisked to the Cabin Stage, where Pete, Joan, and Scott are on stage performing. He is blissfully unaware of our problem. Quickly we grab our instruments, tune, and rush on stage where each person goes to a mike, introduces her/himself, and tells where they’re from and what they did. We group ourselves and Charlie Apple kicks off the first song, “Bury Me Beneath the Willow.” We play through it to the cheers of the assembled multitude, Pete says a few words about camp and us, and
On Wednesday morning there seems to be more energy than there was yesterday. We certainly are more relaxed about getting there and still get there in plenty of time. Pete calls us 
together for announcements. One of our number is giving away some banjo gear, having wisely switched allegiance to the mandolin. Another banjo player bites the dust, the joy of many. Pete begins to deal with the logistics of tomorrow’s trip to Merlefest for our first and last performance as a jam orchestra. Pete is now in the position of 
having a number of balls in the air and he must keep on juggling. He uses this problem as an opportunity to discuss the history of Merlefest and the importance of director B. Townes in its development.
After handling, or at least delaying, the concerns about tomorrow, we get to group singing. Fran leads us in singing “Dim Lights, Thick Smoke and Loud, Loud Music.” She has a strong voice and does a good job, particularly since she’s at a mike and singing in front of the whole group. We 
sing a couple of other songs and then Pete moves to the importance of learning lyrics and singing harmony. He emphasizes learning lyrics by listening, repeating, and practicing. While song leaders at Jam Camp can us texts to help them, the other jammers are strongly encouraged to learn the choruses by ear. He and Joan assert that recent brain studies suggest singing and ear learning.
At the end of the morning class, we are reassigned to the jam groups in which we’ll stay until the end of camp. It’s in these jam groups that we’ll be asked to perform in Thursday’s closing camp event, The Jam Camp Opry. Pete reads the names of each of the group members and they find each other, clustering around the floor.
Our group has three banjo players, all of whom are tentative in some aspect of playing, and none of whom is comfortable at taking breaks, the signature of banjo play. Angie Sumpter is the owner of Angie’s Banjos.com, a web site particularly focused for people who started playing the banjo after age fifty. Her web site publishes a magazine called Silver Strings, which is filled with articles about starting late. She also sells banjos and gear. Frank is at his third Jam Cam
p and has progressed since last year, but is still uncertain of himself. I tend to fall apart every time I’m asked to solo, but my vamping has improved. Cleve loves the music and has the same problems with tentativeness as the rest of us. Connie has been playing the acoustic bass guitar for just over a year. Irene is an accomplished singer and a vastly improving mandolin player who believes she’s still a beginner. She provides us with leadership through her strong voice and sense of timing.
This morning our group is supported by Scott, whose relaxed attitude is complemented by accurate feedback and helpful suggestions. We take turns calling songs and leading them, each of us uncertain in the roll and coached by Scott. A growing sense of mutual support begins to emerge as we hear something that sounds like bluegrass music. At Scott’s urging, Connie turns u
p her amp, providing us with an increasingly strong bass beat that we need desperately. Each person solos to cries of “good job” and applause. We’re beginning to find our feet. We also need to come up with a name for our group to use as a band. By lunch we’ve begun to think of ourselves as a band.
Lunch is graced by the appearance of top Merlefest staff who eat, chat with Pete, and check out the scene while they hardly interact with us campers. I get a brief chance to chat with Ted Hagaman, the new festival director, who has given me a thumbs up sign. I learn that I’ve been given access to the photo stands as a photographer 
and will be able to pick up the badge at check-in. We’re much more relaxed as a large group. We linger over lunch. Joan Wernick creates a women’s luncheon group and then has to fend off my teasing about discrimination despite the fact I’ve had a perfectly satisfactory lunch with a compatible bunch of guys. Pete has some difficulty dragging us back to the task at hand as he begins the afternoon session.
We practice more harmony singing using a couple of songs he is considering for tomorro
w’s performance on the Cabin Stage, a traditional event during the opening hours of the festival. He’s eager that this be a good performance both because he wants us to have a positive experience and because our performance functions as a recruiting tool for his jam camps. Lots of us struggle with the idea and practice of harmony singing, something we’ve now been working on for three days.
In the afternoon Joan rejoins our jam group, but we need to understand that we’ll be on our own when we perform tomorrow. We try out a few names and a few songs. After a while “In the Pines” emerges as the song and “Wonders Never Cease” as our band name. We try out breaks and singing combinations and slowly a performance emerges. It still needs lots of practice, but we’re headed in the right direction as the afternoon ends.
Second Day
do things that yesterday, or in the weeks preceding the event, would have seemed overwhelming.
ings them into closer proximity and makes them seem more real. He says that bluegrass music is “something that is still alive and with us.” He takes it out of being a sort of sterile museum piece and gives it real life.
ecause he’s left a hole in our group. Fortunately, Joan Wernick fills in for the rest of the morning, giving us solid rhythm, constant monitoring, and caring help. The trade is pretty good, even though we’re sorry one of our number has gone home. We all get to sing leads, lead songs, and play solos, and, while they’re not always very good, they show progress and willingness to risk the trying.
nd she jumps into the role with what appears to be humor and enthusiasm, being supportive of others and effective in her own playing. Her mandolin breaks are played with greater assurance, her rhythmic chops are solid and set a clear beat for other instruments, and her harmonies are excellent. I think she’s enjoying it all, too.
After a break, we divide into
jam groups again. Joan continues as our guitar player, even after a volunteer arrives and joins us. On consideration we think this has been a mixed blessing. We like Joan and she’s really helpful and supportive. At the same time, Pete and Scott have spent considerable amounts of time with the intermediate groups and we feel somewhat deprived of their help. Nevertheless, we have a productive afternoon, singing lots of songs and moving ahead. Today is the last one for these jam groups. Tomorrow we’ll be reconfigured into groups that will stay together until the in-house concert early Thursday afternoon. Each jam group will perform a song or two for the rest of the camp as if they were a bluegrass band. More about this activity later. As the afternoon winds down, we stand around and chat, eager to head for dinner and reluctant to leave at the same time.
Although Pete Wernick has been holding jam camp before Merlefest for nine years, this is the first year the camp has been moved off the 
pers staying at
Joan and Scott Freeman, an able multi-instrument player and teacher from North Carolina. This year there are thirty-six jam campers at this camp, and there is a maximum enrollment of forty. There seem to be a lot of banjo players in attendance and, unusual for any jamming situation, something of a shortage of guitar players. For me this is the second year I’ve attended Jam Camp, but my wife Irene and her friend Connie, a novice bass player are also attending for the first time.
idea, as people aren’t as anxiety ridden when they feel less pressure from players much better than they are.
inging together. After a few short minutes almost everyone has experienced success and we have made sounds that are something like music. We then break into two large groups for further instruction based on our experience and perceived ability. We, the beginner/novice group, work with Joan and Scott, while Pete goes off with the more advanced people. The session proceeds comfortably, with these two pros leading us in a comfortable pace through a series of easy songs. When the leaders exchange places, Pete comes in and begins dividing us into jam groups and working though at least one song with each group while providing direct instruction. He is supportive while, at the same time, providing corrections that are direct, helpful, and non-threatening, or at least as non-threatening as instruction based on performance can be.
anything else has in explaining how harmony works, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to do it. We then break into jam groups for the rest of the afternoon. A signature of Pete’s design for his camps is a thoughtful and pretty carefully timed mixture of large and small group practice, direct instruction in the music, and tales about the history and personalities of the music. Changes in pace are frequent enough and breaks come at the right time, making the day go quickly and reducing the risk of inattention 
or boredom. Pedagogically the program is right on target.
to Irene that he had a mandolin he thought she might like to see. Knowing he was busy preparing himself for his performance, Irene didn’t want to bother him about the mandolin. Deep into their second set, Alan pulled a brown beauty out of a case that had been sitting on the stage and announced that he was playing “Side by Side” on request. This song, about a long and successful marriage, is guaranteed to draw tears from Irene. When Alan announced that he was playing it for a member of the audience whose mandolin he was playing. Irene wept through the song and then dissolved in tears as Alan stepped off the stage to hand her her own new Bibey mandolin. Over the next few days it seldom left her side.
rks which provide office and warehouse space for small and medium sized businesses everywhere, this one located in
he office space felt cramped. The front room is filled with a wall full of unicycles and bookshelves filled with instructional DVDs. Behind this, another room is an instrument lover’s paradise. Banjos almost beyond imagination – bluegrass, old time, open back, tenor, and more. There were also some other instruments including a large bass fiddle, but I hardly noticed them. John offered us the five cent tour and we were conducted back to the warehouse, truly a treasure trove of instruments waiting to be sold. Banjo.com can stock more instruments than other stores because the largest part of their business is conducted on line. Nevertheless, the number of customers who drop into the store has been steadily increasing and Drummond is considering a new store more
convenient to hiway travelers.
Thanks to Lisa Burnet of pickinshots.com for the picture of Irene with her mando. The pictures of John, Barry, and the 30th Anniversary Tenbrooks are from the banjo.com website.
Well, there goes the neighborhood. No more noble savage. No more trackless wilderness.
No more clouds of bison completely filling the plains. No more uncivilized people living in a blissful state of nature, at peace with the land, each other, and themselves. Instead, Charles C. Mann, a science journalist, has drawn together new insights gleaned from archeology, anthropology, plant science, space photographs, carbon dating, linguistics, and more to people the Americas with civilizations as old as or older than European or middle-eastern empires and technology to rival the most advanced known to early man. Because Mann is not a specialist, he sees the places where areas of knowledge come together in ways that people married to their disciplines can never know. He then synthesizes the picture and presents us with a world we, as students and thoughtful readers never imagined.
Head west from
lley, Steve’s mom, a small dark haired woman who greets each of us with enthusiasm and grace. We take off our shoes and push into the kitchen which is already crowded with six or seven people eating at a table piled with food – sweet potatoes, mashed potato salad, deviled eggs, macaroni salad, beans, and ham. On the counter there’s a layered cake, four tiers of cake with pineapple filling between each layer and topped with whipped cream.
orner. Steve’s sister Kristy is sitting there and her husband Rex comes in soon. Irene has been worried that we’re intruding anyway, and being indoors does nothing for her discomfort. Linda and Steve’s enth
usiasm for our visit, their warmth and welcome ease the moment as we adjust ourselves into seats or onto space on the floor.
ach out with friendliness and intelligence. He was born within a few miles of his present home, his grandfather built the
nd an open door to the auditorium. This school, probably built shortly after the war, is used by Gibson Productions to present bluegrass programs several times a year. Grasstowne is guaranteed to bring in a good crowd, partly because Steve Gulley is a home town boy and partly because this is a knowledgeably crowd which expects a fine performance. Lowell and Lis
a have planned to film a video introduction for the Grasstowne web site in which Steve introduces all the players and then the band plays
ulture that a significant portion of people at the event either play the music or are active participants in on-line communities and other ways of feeling involved. The crowd appreciates a good band, whether it’s nationally known or not. Nevertheless, this crowd is eagerly awaiting seeing Grasstowne for the first time, particularly since most of its members come from within fifty or sixty miles. Nearly everyone in the audience knows the history of the members of this band and knows the risks its members have assumed in creating a new band to express their ideas of how bluegrass should sound in the twenty-first century.
chords. Allison Kraus and Union Station, Mountain Heart, Dry Branch Fire Squad, and Rhonda Vincent and the Rage all share this quality as do some other bands, but surely not all. Grasstowne, as a new band, is on its way to that sort of distinctiveness, but has not quite achieved it yet. Steve Gulley’s fine, flexible voice stands out from many other lead singers. His range is broad, allowing the humorous impressions he does of other singers, as well as his emotion laden tenor leads. 
, instantly recognize his clean fingerings, lightening speed, and intricate triplets and cross picking. 
between vocal passages. Jamey Booher is one of the best young bass players around. He is always rock solid in providing the beat and his fingerings are more intricate and subtle than the average bass player’s. All told, there isn’t a weak spot in this group. As audiences become increasingly familiar with them, the moment is not far away when a listener to the radio will murmur “Grasstowne” before there is ever a dj announcement of 
who is playing.
Thanks to Lisa Burdett for the picture in the Gulley Kitchen.
We drive down 
ge along the wall along the length of the room, a lot of small, round wooden tables, each with four chairs nearly bumping the ones from the next tables. There is a slightly raised platform along the rear of the room with five booths along the rear wall and long shelf lined with additional seats. A small bar takes up the rear corner of the room. There isn’t a bad seat in the house. Since its founding in 1976, this out of the way room, centrally located in the heart of bluegrass country has been home to hundreds of bands and has hosted the royalty of bluegrass music. Down home’s menu offers a variety of snacks and light platters of M
exican food, sells beer and soft drinks, and makes it clear that once the music starts service stops and the real purpose of this site, listening to great music, comes first. Their web site says it all, “The primary emphasis is on quality music, and the performance atmosphere promotes listening rather than socializing. There is plenty of time for friendly conversation before the show and between sets. With an excellent sound system hung from the ceiling, the club is a favorite of performers as well as listeners.”
Grasstowne was formed around the first of the year when three musicians, two of whom had been friends since childhood, left established bands to for
m a group which they hoped would allow them each to express their own particular musical tastes and needs. They took a substantial risk. Grasstowne’s formation has created a lot of buzz among bluegrass fans, in the genre’s two glossy magazines, and in the on-line community. Steve Gulley, formerly lead singer and rhythm guitarist came from the 
eadbetter, 2005 International Bluegrass Music Association Dobro player of the year, left his band Wildfire, and Alan Bibey. 2007 Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music in 
but widely experienced and very able banjo player joined them, as well Lee Sawyer, an even younger bass player. Sawyer has recently been replaced by Jamie Booher, an equally young and experienced bassist. Tonight will be the band’s first performance with Jamie, who has only had a few days to practice with them, so there is a little nervousness. In the three months since their foundation, Grasstowne has managed to create their own sound, complete a soon to be released CD, and built up enough bookings to assure that they will be able to stay together as a band. Their first single “Dixie Flyer” has been widely played on satellite and FM bluegrass radio, and they have been interviewed on XM radio by host Kyle Cantrell.
sites for the band, Phil, and Steve. He will soon be adding one for Alan. A long haul trucker by trade, Lowell has been in and around bluegrass music for years, publishing an e-zine and building his skills as a web designer. Alisa, a nurse in her day job, is a fine photographer and offers pictures of bluegrass musicians on her web site Pickin’ Shots.
lly his signature triplets are the best in the business. Jason Davis, while only twenty years old, has played with several big name bands and was selected as one of the players on “Cuppa Joe,” a CD featuring musicians on Huber banjos. At age twenty, Jamie Booher has also played with major musicians for years and will appear at Merlefest this year with Sierra Hull.
ng ovation. Steve and Alan return to the stage to play “Patchin’ it Up,” a gospel song Steve wrote several years ago and has re-recorded, and the evening is over.
e crowds, concern about the expense, eagerness to attend. More people have heard about Merlefest than have attended it. Merlefest 2007 will be our fifth consecutive Merlefest. It represents the single most expensive and engaging week in our entertainment calendar. Each year we are introduced to musicians we have never heard of or never seen and reunited with some of our favorites. Unlike smaller, more intimate and informal festivals we attend, there is much less opportunity to interact with the performers. You don’t get a chance to hang out with people artists you’d like to know better. All that being the case, we still purchase our tickets the day they go on sale and plan our travel year around Merlefest. 
railer with some bales of hay thrown around for people to sit on. Merle’s friends, friends like Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, Tim O’Brian, T. Michael Coleman, John Cowan, and many others came together to sing and pick in memory of Merle. Now, twenty years later 80,000 admissions (average of a little over 20,000 per day) show up to hear the icons of Americana music, enjoy the scene, and depending on where they stay, to jam ‘til all hours. If 20,000 people are on campus at
eather conditions in the hills are unreliable. It can be quite hot in the sunshine or cold and raw. One thing is almost certain, evenings at the main stage, the Watson stage, can be really cold. Come prepared each day for a full range of temperature and wetness. The college campus is hilly and the twelve sound stages are located all over campus. 
reekside stage is behind the main stage along a creek. It, too, accommodates large crowds and important concerts are scheduled there. The main stage, Watson, dominates the campus. It dominates the flat lower part of the main campus with its sixty rows of reserved seats and a seemingly endless grass field behind them where those without reserved seats set up what become almost camp sites.
e seat claim them, whereupon, users just move to another seat. Some people, with strong bladders, have been known to enter the reserved area around
e going to Merlefest to get your fill, assuming that’s possible, of a specific band like Donna the
nder one long tent a range of foods from Pad Thai to barbecued chicken is available. You can order a full meal or a hot dog. You can have a funnel cake if you haven’t had enough of them elsewhere, or you can avoid them and eat healthy. Eating well and happily is, as usual, a matter of timing. To avoid horrendous lines at the food booths, eat away from meal times. Eat lunch at ten or two, dinner at four or seven and you’ll find seats and not wait in line too long. But remember, these food booths are important to the community and you’ll know you’ve supported worthy causes rather than small time traveling entrepreneurs.
have to do more walking to get to the dozens of independent vendors hawking everything from tie-dies to instruments, stained glass to wooden bowls, juggling kits to jump ropes. There’s lots of choice, and while you will find the usual pre-packaged Chinese imports you see at other festivals and flea markets, careful shopping can net you some interesting and unusual purchases.
our opportunities to get the CDs signed are limited as there are long lines and short appearances by the artists. Sometimes you get lucky. Finally, there’s a sales tent on the path between the Watson Stage and the Creekside stage which you shouldn’t miss. This tent is where the major instrument manufacturers show their wares and allow you to demo them to your heart’s content. Deering, Ome, Nechville, First Quality Music and other manufacturers have booths. Just outside, Gibson has a large trailer. It’s like being let loose in a chocolate factory.
e Florida State Bluegrass Festival, so we drive on for a few minutes before deciding we’re wrong and turn around. We enter the Chamber and some other sponsors, while water and electricity cost extra. A lovely band shell with huge curved, laminated wood trusses has been built and fresh sod covers the ground in front of it. There’ll be no sand in our toes this weekend and much less dust in the air. Vendors are setting up their booths in the shaded area behind the sound booth. At 
office, where our mail is waiting for us and go to the pleasant, modern library, which is blessedly equipped with a powerful building-wide Wi-Fi hotspot, where we get some work done. There’s a delightful, small Mexican restaurant where we have a delightful supper.
band, The River Grass Review, as well as building his logging business. He and Melissa met at the festival at
t as they did last week at
ilson, with her special rendition of “Five Pound Possum” brings the house down. Perhaps most important in watching this group is the pure love and pride parents Robert and Melissa evidence for Katie and Clint as they play. It’s perfectly clear that these two gifted young pickers will be around for quite a while and will enrich the music.
hree young players whose musicianship complements her and by her mother on bass, King’s set works well for her.
Even though it become chilly as soon as the sun sets, the evening’s two featured bands are ones that bring out almost everyone attending. The U.S. Navy Bluegrass Band called Country Curre
nt is the band that brought us to this festival. We have never seen them before, but one of the songs, “I Would Walk 500 Miles” is one of my favorites, and I’m eager to hear it performed live. The various service bands perform at official government functions as well as fulfilling a major recruiting function. As might be expected, Country Current’s presentation is filled with patriotic feeling, recognition of former military service completed by audience members, and playing of the service anthems. Because the members are on active military duty, there are virtually no recordings of their performances and they do not sell merchandise at the festival. This increases the luster of seeing them live.
ertainly become a m
ajor force in bluegrass music. Keith Arneson plays the banjo with humor and exceptional skill. He has a light touch on the strings and is lightening fast. Pat White plays a very good fiddle. He and Sollivan do double mandolin and double fiddle pieces during their show, both of which are effective. Joe Wheatley, who will soon be retiring from the service, plays a complex and effective bass and provides a rock solid beat. This band is not to be missed.
evening. Val has had throat surgery recently and cannot strain her voice by singing. Fortu
nately, her band can carry the show for her as she provides her customary spark. Becky Buller, a wonderful fiddler and singer/songwriter, steps into the limelight in this circumstance and shines. Her glowing voice, stellar fiddling, movement on stage, and careful clowning all add up to a fine performance despite the absence of Smith. Jonathan Maness on guitar added much to the mix. He is a versatile young guitarist who describes himself as progressive, but can play in almost any setting. His pleasing stage personality and quality voice contribute effectively. Chad Graves contributed well on the Dobro, bringing fine playing and an element of humor to the 
mix. Val Smith, at the top of her game, is more a vocalist and personality than an instrumentalist. It takes courage for her to be on stage without being able to sing, and she looked a little lost and somewhat sad, although her generosity in giving the limelight to her band is admirable.
s in instruments and vocal groups are being held in an indoor auditorium. Ernie Evans has spent several years trying to 
coordinate the efforts of the several regional bluegrass associations in 
ajor event in
s a fourteen year old banjo wizard. While he has yet to develop much in the way of a stage personality, this may not be necessary, as his banjo playing, as well as mandolin and guitar, is truly marvelous. He is fast and accurate, has excellent timing, and plays very fine backup, too. His father says he’s been playing the banjo since he was five and is self-motivated. Off stage he comes across as a somewhat shy, but engaging kid.
n tour with Dolly Parton, and his substitute did an adequate job without bringing Mattingly’s energy and charisma to the Grascals’ lively mix – a net loss. The festival winds up with the remaining audience swaddled in every bit of warm wear people could find. A small, but appreciative audience stayed to the end.
he culinary choice as well as providing some fun as attendees tried out a number of differing versions of this now national dish. Styles ranging from a white, chowderish chilly to pure Texan without beans or tomatoes and using chunks of beef provided quite a contrast. A variety of clinics helped musicians improve their skills. The MCs were competent, although they spoke too m
uch of their home in Georgia without enough focus on Perry. The $10.00 fee for attending is, if anything, too reasonable as it competes with promoters who must charge much more in order to afford first rate bands. Nevertheless, Ernie Evans offered lots of support for local bluegrass and acoustic music. This festival provided an enjoyable time for attendees, whether they came to listen or jam and should continue to grow.
0:30, we had to wait until 1:00 PM to get into our site, a fairly spacious but very sandy one in the Hickory loop. Sites are not as well separated as they are at Oscar Scherer or Payne's Prairie and the bath houses are not as well cleaned. On the other hand, the park is fairly quiet, even though we are here during spring break week in Florida and there are many kids here.
temperature of 72 degrees and provide a warm resting place for manatees during the chilly winter months. Now, in the first days of April, they have mostly returned to the Suwannee River, leaving the pool for swimmers and snorklers. The pool has crystal clear water and there are many turtles. Further down the outlet toward the river there are alligators. This is a good spot f
or a respite for us before heading for our last Florida bluegrass festival at Perry on Thursday. A sink hole, fancifully called The Catfish Hotel, though covered with duck weed, the bottom is 90 feet deep and it provides an entrance to an underwater cave system, the mapped part of w
hich covers at least five miles. A raised walk leads along the outlet through a cypress swamp featuring huge knees to the 
cross miles of 
cattered a mile or two away. There are almost none of the gaudy McMansions seen further south along the west coast and no major hotels. The main street has a few artist’s shops, a book store calling itself curmudgeonly, some restaurants, and some old, quirky buildings that are examples of what is called Cracker architecture. We stop at the Chamber of Commerce for 
some literature, walk around a pier covered with gift shops and restaurants, and stop for lunch at Tony’s restaurant which offers a fish platter we share for too much money. Later we drive the length of the key and across a small bridge to another small key and drive along beside the airport landing strip until we reach a private development where we turn around and return. On the back streets of Cedar Key are a lot of littered yards, tin-roofed houses, and what tourists call character and local reformers call poverty. Cedar Key is worth a stay for a couple or family seeking out of the way quiet or at least a few hours for people looking for the fabled “old
Withlacoochee Bluegrass Jamboree is held on one of the most attractive sites in bluegrass. Down a dusty, bumpy drive past a skeet range off County Road 41 in rural
nd can hardly open the door. We check and find our rear corner perhaps three inches over the faint line demarcating our border, but he surely has a just beef about the size of his site for the size of his rig. We’ve been in the same situation and feel bad about it, but not bad enough to hook up our rig in order to move it six or eight inches. It’s very tight in here with hundreds of rigs accumulating. Each pair of rigs shares a water hookup and 30 amp electric plugs are clustered on a wooden post. Electricity proves to be problematic as the weekend moves along. The owners make a real effort to keep dust down by sprinkling, but it’s an impossible task. Fortunately, most attendees here are in self-contained rigs, because the grounds have one wash house and too few porta-johns spread about the grounds. Day ticket folks are on their own here.
rs at others shows that this is a great festival. The sad death of promoter Lonnie Knight has left his widow Miss Peggy and other family members and friends to put this show together. Saturday promises to be a very good day, otherwise the lineup includes some bands we’ve never heard of and some others we don’t care about. Fortunately, there are always surprises at a festival. The crowd assembled on Friday afternoon and evening seems tired and difficult to please. They listen pretty attentively, but don’t seem to rouse themselves too much enthusiasm, perhaps because they’re the oldest crowd we’ve encountered anywhere. The age of the fans leads promoters to select tried and true traditional bluegrass bands. If the future of bluegrass music lies in its past, then the music is doomed, I fear. There must be a happy medium between the 
incessant uproar we encountered at Springfest last weekend and this moribund crowd, but perhaps niche programming works better.
“My 
Grandfather’s Clock,” a song rarely sung at bluegrass festivals, worked quite well. A version of “Hot Corn, Cold Corn” began at a very slow tempo and then accelerated to a rousing finish; a different and effective way to play this old song you might think had seen its day. Led by Jamie Dawson and his wife Lynda, a talented song writer and singer, they offer a lively show, singing and playing well. Interestingly, Jamie’s dad Harry is a man we’ve met along the road. We first saw him in
mother is dying in
Thibodeaux and the Cajun Travelers are a very pleasant change of pace in this hard driving bluegrass crowd. They sing in French and Wes plays typical Cajun accordion. He tells low-key jokes about a stereotypical Cajun character he calls Boudreau and leads the band with a light hand. I gather they play lots of bluegrass events, and they were well-received by the audience. He later showed me a beautiful, new D accordion hand made in
hlin have performed together for years, and they’re supported by Sally Love on rhythm guitar and vocal harmony. Tom Adams, once a noted banjo stylist, has been afflicted with distonia and can no longer pick with his middle finger. He has taught himself a two finger style that works pretty well and probably fools 95% of the people in the seats, but
g for his son, the fabled Dr. Ralph Stanley and his Clinch Mountain Boys took the stage to a standing ovation. At age 80, Ralph Stanley has been a headliner and innovator in bluegrass music for nearly 60 years. He no longer plays three finger style banjo, but does well with clawhammer, old time banjo. He MCs his show, sings in that characteristic high lonesome sound that fits so well with songs like “O, Death” and “I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow.” He is a shameless self-promoter, seeking to sell CDs and other memorabilia at his merch table, but stays and signs for well over an hour, much longer than other lesser lights often stay. I never expected to get his signature on my A banjo head, but there it is.
but they are one of the great national touring bands and we’re eager to see them again. Shelor, tall and lithe, prowls about the stage in an almost catlike dance. He maneuvers his Huber banjo into and away from the microphone to manage the volume of his very powerful playing. On second hearing, I’m impressed by his backup play, an element of banjo playing often neglected but about ninety percent of what banjo players do. Brandon Rickman seems a little down today, but Matt Leadbetter is even stronger on the Dobro than he was two weeks ago. Matt, son of IBMA award winner
Jam, an event they hold every Sunday morning at bluegrass festivals. Usually they hold their jam in the main stage area, but this weekend one of the festival officials is a Baptist preacher and he will be holding a regular Palm Sunday service. I like playing in the jam, because I can be in the background and get a little more experience, while Irene likes singing the old songs and taking pictures, which she’s doing with increasing skill and enthusiasm. Mike’s leadership of the singing makes everyone feel included and his message and prayer are clear and pointed, but never delivered with a hammer.
as MC and playing rhythm guitar while straight-faced Jason Jones plays bass. Three remarkable young musicians, all in their teens, give this band its excitement. Austin Wilder, 15, plays a fine flat-picking guitar and sings lead on many songs. His voice is becoming stronger, but his picking is fast and accurate. Jarrod Walker, only fourteen, has emerged as a premier mandolinist since the last time we saw them a year ago. His solos are inventive and clear. The centerpiece of this band in both musicianship and charisma is Cory Walker, who at seventeen is already recognized as one of the fine young emerging banjo players. Cory’s picking has continued to improve, while his stage presence has made him a dominant figure on the stage. Cory
showed his versatility by playing a Django Rhinehart swing piece on the guitar and providing an alternative sound for the band on Dobro on several songs. The youngest Walker, eleven year old
uture for the genre. There were many elderly people here who came, sat, and listened, but added little vitality or enthusia
sm to the proceedings. They seemed to prefer straight ahead traditional bluegrass bands, short hours at the main stage, and leisurely times sitting around their camping rigs. The Lewis Family, Ralph Stanley, and Wes Thibodeaux represent the music preferred by these folks. Youth and vitality were represented here by bands like Kickin’ Grass and the Bluegrass Parlor Band, bands which performed to good audiences but not strongly featured in the scheduling of the festival. Growing and revitalizing the audience for this wonderful music, retaining respect and enthusiasm for the past and integrating the sounds of new music of the present remains the challenge for bluegrass.