March 21, 2024
Here in America, March is the Irish season centering on March 17th, Saint Patrick’s Day, when anyone with even a tiny shred of Irish ancestry suddenly becomes more Irish. In my youth, Irish Catholics like myself could backslide a bit and eat that candy or drink that Coke we’d given up for Lent. I became more interested in my Irish background in my brief college career, when I enrolled in a coordinated study program on Irish literature, history, and politics. I learned how the traditional dance music, ballads and folk tales reinforced the drive for Irish independence, and I soon noticed that many of the bluegrass tunes and songs I knew had origins in Ireland, particularly in the northern counties of Ulster, home to my Irish great grandparents. Tune books like Cole’s “1000 Fiddle Tunes” are filled with Irish and Scottish tunes and I started learning them and playing them with friends in the mid 1970’s. I celebrated my Irish heritage again last week at Nashvillle’s Station Inn with an opening set of jigs, reels, and ballads. The program included “Hardiman the Fiddler”, a tune I learned almost 50 years ago as you’ll read below.
I turned 70 on March 16, but I started eating birthday cake after our show at Wintergrass on February 24th. Thanks to Darol Anger and Jan for the nice surprise. I ate more cake at Mountain Stage on March 10th after a show with a lineup I helped curate in celebration of the big birthday. The lineup included old friends and collaborators, Washboard Chaz and the Tin Men, Dirk and Amelia Powell, Karan Casey, Sarah Jarosz, and my band. We all joined in on a fun finale, trading verses on Dylan’s “Man Gave Names to All the Animals”. My mom used to bring homemade cookies from Wheeling whenever I was on the show which is taped in Charleston WV, but she’s no longer around, so Jan and I made a big batch of mom’s “toll house cookies with a difference”. We’d been eating cookies all day, and I’m sorry to say that we didn’t finish the cake that night. Many thanks to the Mountain Stage production team, house band and Kathy Mattea who hosted the show.
There were a couple more cakes at the Station Inn on March 12 and 13. The first night included a wonderful opening set by songwriter Ed Snodderly with assistance from our family doctor Gary Smith on bass. Washboard Chaz joined Larry Atamanuik, Mike Bub, Shad Cobb, Jan and me for the second set. The next night Jan and I opened with the Irish set, with help from piper Eamon Dillon and cellist Nathaniel Smith along with the regular members of the Tim O’Brien band – Mike Bub, Shad Cobb, and Cory Walker. Later we were joined by Sarah Jarosz for several songs. All the shows featured recent co-writes with the venerable Tom Paxton. One of them, “Covenant”, commemorates the school shootings that took place here in Nashville on March 27th of last year. The band also worked up some older songs for the occasion including “One Girl Cried”, “I’m Not Afraid o’ Dyin”, “Walk Beside Me” and even “The Same Old South” from the Ophelia Swing band days. I couldn’t have pulled off the Station Inn extravaganzas without Jan’s help. Lots of folks came from out of town, and our blood sugar/stress levels finally settled down by the 15th. Jan and I celebrated my actual birthday on the 166h with a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant.
Spring and Summer 1974
I had supported myself in Jackson Hole the previous winter of by living very cheaply and playing a few gigs. By the end of March 1974 I was back home in Wheeling, contemplating my next move. I was just another kid ping-ponging back and forth from his imagined independence to the safety of his parents’ home. West Virginia Grass no longer needed a guitar player, but they did need a bass player and I was able to grab that job, such as it was. I borrowed an electric bass from my high school friend Dave Shafer. It was a Japanese made Electra solid body that he’d played in our high school rock band. After he’d upgraded to a better instrument, Dave pulled the frets from the Electra, filling the fret slots with liquid wood to make it a fretless model. Most readers will need some context on how I knew Dave and how I got started playing music, so here goes.
My sister Mollie and I started singing together soon after I got my first guitar, a red Stella, from Walter Shalayka’s store in Wheeling. I was 12 years old. We’d heard Folk music, R&B and Jazz on records my brother Trip brought home from college. We also listened to WKWK, the local pop station and watched network TV shows like “Hootenanny” and “Shindig” as well as “The Dick Clark Show” and Ed Sullivan’s Sunday night variety show. That’s where we heard the Beatles of course and we joined the local Beatles fan club, and with our mother’s help, we went to see the four mop topped lads at the Civic Arena in Pittsburgh on September 14th, 1964. We had books of Beatles and Peter, Paul, and Mary songs and I was also learning from a Roger Miller book. My friends Duffy and Chipper Wood had started playing guitars in response to “The British Invasion” and I learned my first licks on their instruments before I ever owned a guitar.
I don’t think my very first band even had a bass player. I was 12 and 13 years old and the members included grade school friends Mike Vollinger on drums and Larry Haning on vocals. I think Duffy Wood was our other guitarist. The band we called The Establishment existed mostly in our minds. I can’t remember any gigs we played except the one where we played Wilson Pickett’s “Midnight Hour” several times on New Year’s Eve in the attic of a house along National Road. I had a Harmony solid body guitar with two pickups, and a little Harmony amp.
I think I was in 8th grade when I met Dave Shafer, Trenny Blum and Mark McElwaine. They came to my parents house at 10 Lenox Avenue and we may have played some, but mostly I remember laughing so hard that I got a stomach ache. I don’t know how I hooked up with them, but I had seen Trenny sing a Roger Miller song on the Linsly Military Institute’s annual Minstrel show. The three of them went to Woodsdale Junior High, about a mile from Saint Michael’s grade school where I was about to graduate. Our group had various names, including “Shagum”, derived by misspelling the name of a kind of peat moss. Later we sorta settled on the name “Ice”. Mark played drums and sang “Money”, Trenny played guitar and sang “Tobacco Road”, and Dave played the bass and sang his original “Natural Man”. Later we added Andy Maness on guitar. His Harmony guitar was cooler than mine – a semi-hollow body with three pickups and his amp was bigger too. I think Mark or Trenny had rigged up a strobe light made from a light bulb, a record turn table, and piece of cardboard with a hole in it. We played some private parties, a couple school talent shows, and we also did some “Record Hops” sponsored by WKWK. We weren’t of driving age, so a parent or an older sibling would take us to some hall where we would alternate sets with a DJ from the radio station who would spin 45rpm records. We’d spilt a fee of about $17 between us and think we were on our way. We meant to emulate the standard heroes of the day – the Beatles for a while, then Cream, then the Band. Mark, Trenny and Dave later attended Triadelphia High School, while I followed my older brothers into Linsly, a local Military prep school. They graduated a year ahead of me and the band broke up.
In the meantime, Mollie and I sang some as well, and there was at least one collaboration where Mollie and I performed with Dave and Trenny – maybe as “The Katzenjammer Kids” – for a folk music contest. I remember one of the songs was “Walk Me Down in the Morning Dew”. I don’t know who brought that song in, and I only recently learned its origin as a protest song by Bonnie Dobson. We won first prize. Once Mollie and I we got paid to sing from the choir loft at a wedding. We also played a few times in the Gelandesprung bar at the Blue Knob ski area in Pennsylvania. We’d gone there for a weekend to ski and I brought my guitar. Somebody heard us singing in the dorms there and we were asked to play. Mollie was 16 but told them she was 18, and I was 14 and told them I was 16. We obviously didn’t belong there but we went back a couple more times to ski and perform, our eyes open a little wider each time.
When I was 16 or so I met Pete Bachmann who became a regular picking buddy. He was 6 or so years older than me and had left home and bummed around playing music, and he knew a lot of the same Doc Watson material I was trying to learn. We’d watch football games with the sound off as we flat picked “Salt Creek” and “Billy in the Low Ground”. He took me to my very first fiddle convention one summer. It was a few hours drive south of Wheeling in Elizabeth WV. The Morris Brothers, John and Dave, hosted the festival, and I heard Franklin George play his hammered dulcimer. At the end of that weekend, I couldn’t escape the new ear worm in my head – the basic melody of “Soldier’s Joy”, a tune that had been relentlessly repeated both on and off stage.
So now, years later, I was back in Wheeling like Pete Bachmann had been when I first met him. My hair was long and thick, and I played electric bass with Pete on mandolin, his girlfriend Laura Cramblett on guitar, and banjo player Ed Mahonen in their group West Virginia Grass. I spent a lot of those spring and summer afternoons picking with Ed in his apartment in West Liberty. Laura sang a version of “Rocky Top” in C, Ed sang “Friend of the Devil”, and Pete had worked up Leon Russell’s “Up on the Tight Wire”. We were fans of Bill Monroe but we also took the signal from Newgrass Revival to mix things up. There was a show that summer at a country music park north of Wheeling on the Ohio side of the river. The Country Gentlemen were the headliner that day, and Charlie Waller introduced their new dobro player. He said he fit into their band “like a glove”. His name was Jerry Douglas and he WAS really good. Newly graduated from his high school in nearby Warren, Ohio, he’d just signed on to his first professional job.
At a fiddler’s convention that summer in Independence, Virginia, I dove deeper into the world of American old-time music. I joined groups who stood in a circle and played the same melodies over and over in unison until, as one acquaintance put it, “the music starts moving through you”. Compared to the bluegrass jam sessions I was familiar with, these jams took a very different, much more communal, approach. Of course, fiddlers’ conventions draw a crowd by holding contests for the various traditional instruments, but this music was demonstrably non-competitive. I heard some fine bluegrass that weekend from the contest stage but was also witnessed exciting performances by the Highwoods and Swamp Root String Bands, both comprised of capable young northern practitioners who pushed out high energy breakdowns played on fiddles and clawhammer banjos with driving guitar and bass backing. The old-time music revival that the New Lost City Ramblers started in the 1950s was here and now in full flower. If I’m not mistaken, the winner of the bluegrass band competition that Saturday night was Southbound, a group that included my contemporaries Lou Reid and Jimmy Haley, who in 1979 would join the late, great Terry Baucom in the first edition of Doyle Lawson and Quicksilver.
I basically had my ears open and the red button on my internal tape recorder pushed in those days. A couple I knew who lived in nearby Volney VA hosted a potluck picking party the next day and after breaking camp at the fairgrounds on Sunday morning, I headed that way. As I arrived at the farm on York Ridge where Wayne Erbsen and Tina Liden Jones lived, I saw an old green school bus parked in the pasture. The hippies spilling out of it were the Green Grass Cloggers, who had also attended the fiddle convention. I met an Irishman that afternoon named Eamonn O’Doherty. He played the flute and he did his best to teach me a slip jig called “Hardiman the Fiddler”. Most jigs are double jigs, where each measure of music has two main beats, each of which is divided into three note triplets. A slip jig is different in that each measure has three main beats divided into triplets, and I had a terrible time latching onto it. I may have recorded the tune on one of those portable cassette players from back in the day. In any case the tune and the memory of the man stayed with me in the coming years as I dove into Irish traditional dance music. Some forty years later I stumbled on a book called “The Northern Fiddler”, a wonderful study of Irish fiddle music from Donegal and Tyrone, and lo and behold its co-author was Eamonn O’Doherty. The book is out of print, but I obtained a PDF copy in recent years and have enjoyed it greatly. There are transcriptions of tunes of course, but also interviews with noted players like John Doherty, as well as photographs and charcoal drawings done by Eamonn. Sadly, he died in 2011 and I never saw him again. I just read about him on the web this morning and learned that while he was known as a musician who toured briefly with Andy Irvine and Sweeneys Men, he was mainly known as a sculptor, and I now realize I’ve seen his work in public places in Dublin and Galway!
WWW.TheSession.org is a great source for jigs and reels and you can find a handy transcription of “Hardiman the Fiddler” (aka “The Heart of a Loaf” and “Poitin Whiskey”) at https://thesession.org/tunes/48.
Before leaving Wayne and Tina’s place in Southwest Virginia that summer, we all drove through the rain to visit guitarist and guitar maker Wayne Henderson. We jammed in his workshop with another fine bluegrass guitarist named Ray Cline. Wayne Henderson was a local hero who played the fiddle tunes in a unique three finger style. In the years since, he delivered mail for the local post office while quietly earning worldwide renown for his guitars - sought out by in-the-know folks like Eric Clapton and Vince Gill – as well as for his music. He’s traveled the world under the auspices of the US State Department and started his own music festival, although this year’s 30th annual event on June 15th is advertised as his last.
Camp Springs Newgrass Festival 1973. That’s me 6th from the left with glasses and dark t-shirt. To my right with his chin resting on his fist is Mark McElwaine. We’re all watching somebody shredding mid ‘70’s bluegrass on the festival stage.
When I wasn’t playing bass with WV Grass that summer, I was practicing the fiddle and jamming with anyone that would have me. I was seeking out other musicians and making a lot of new friends like Jim Simpson who played me his new Leo Kottke record which blew my mind. I attended Don West’s Traditional Mountain Music festival in Pipestem WV and Carlton Haney’s Newgrass festival in Camp Springs NC. One night Pete Bachmann and I went to see the Hutchison Brothers – John on guitar and Zeke on banjo along with their brother-in-law Tim Sparkman on bass – at a club called Tin Pan Alley. They were an inspiration and John would become a mentor. In August at Watermelon Park in Berryville VA, I met a good guitarist named Arthur Knapp who was planning to relocate to Boulder Colorado. I told him I might just do the same, and within a few weeks I was driving my ’66 Volvo west across the plains towards Colorado.