Illinoi S University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

H ILLINOI S UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

PRODUCTION NOTE

University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library Large-scale Digitization Project, 2007.

Volume 3, No. 2- November 30, 1962

* * "^ / REDPATH CONCERT SATURDAY -. REDPATH SEMINAR THURSDAY

Jean Redpath will perform in a Jean Redpath will conduct a rt of traditional Scottish ballads seminar, "The Survival and Revival turday, December 8, 8 p.m., in of Scots Folksong," at 3 p.m. on in Hall Theater. Thursday, December 6, in the Labor and Industrial Relations Building, Room 35. Miss Redpath is a former language ant at the University of Edinburgh. Judy McCulloh, an associate of as head of the Folk Song Society at the Archives of Folk and Primitive Jniversity and a disciple of the Music at Indiana University, will )l of Scottish Studies, noted folk- introduce the guest speaker and serve it, Hamish Henderson. as seminar moderator. Mrs. McCulloh has done extensive folksong collecting Having come to the United States in in the Ozarks, Southern Indiana, and ,she appeared in Gerde's Folk City Kentucky and is also an active member vas hailed in the New York Times for of our Campus Folksong Club. At fast repertoire, vocal brilliance, present, she is writing her doctorate »he charm she communicated about her in the area of Finnish folksongs ;ry, people, language, and music. collected in America.

The seminar is open to the public.

] estival in February, 1962. PG&MS RECORD BACK IN PRINT Lthough Miss Redpath's voice at 1 sounds as refined as that of a The first issue (500) of the Club's 3 trained singer, it is a natural, Philo Glee and Mandolin Society record 3 aed instrument. She sings ballads sold out in October. Records are again 1 is "Rantin Laddie," "The Gypsy available. Prices are $3.50 to members ( 1,"and "Barbarry Allan." She is and $4.00 to non-members. .( "ned with Scottish material, not y for nationalistic reasons, but ause she is concerned with the preser- ion of the cultural identity of language spreads like honey over all tland. Miss Redpath considers herself her songs....She is direct, honest, and tly a traditional singer and partly an as intensly alive as the people from erpreter of traditional Scots Songlore. whom she comes."

The American Record Guide said of Tickets are on sale now at the Illini s Redpath, "The delightful burr of her Union Box Office. Tickets are $1.25 and $1.75. All seats are reserved.

RAMBLERS CONCERT

by J. Walsh

Old-timey string band music made itself heard on campus Saturday night as the New Lost City Ramblers presented a concert of traditional Southern mountain music in the Lincoln Hall Auditorium.

The Ramblers, following in the tradition of such bands as "The Buckle-Busters", "The Fruit-jar Drinkers", and "Gid Tanner's Skillet-Lickers", put on a program of ballads, comic songs, and fiddle-tunes, all songs long popular with rural southern audiences and which are being newly "discovered" by northern college audiences.

The New Lost City Ramblers, John Cohen, Mike Seeger, and Tracy Schwarz (who has replaced Tom Paley, the original third member of the group) are boys from the city who became interested in music from the country. Specifically, they play the music that was commercially recorded by string bands in the nineteen twenties and thirties. They play it in the style in which it was originally played: with unexaggerated delivery and unamplified instruments--banjo, fiddle, mandolin, and autoharp. Their aim is to play the music as it was played then, not to interpret or popularize it for the mass audience, and it is largely through their efforts and example that the present revival of this music has such force. On the college campuses, and even high schools, are springing up such groups as the Redwood Canyon Ramblers, the Mad Mountain Ramblers, and the university's own Philo Glee and Mandolin Society, all playing old-timey music.

The music itself was commercially recorded on a myriad of different labels in the years from 1923 through the depression. It was often recorded by the simple expedient of setting up a recording studio in a local store or post office and offering ten dollars for every song accepted for publication. The folk of the surrounding area would gather up their banjos and dust off their fiddles and come down to pick up some of that "easy money". The bands who played for the Saturday night dances would come in to show those city slickers how "McLeod's Reel" should really be picked. They would play them the songs they learned from their daddy and their daddy's daddy as well as some songs they just made up, and in this way a lot of folk music was put on record. It was recorded because it sold, not because it was folk music. . As people's taste changed and the musicians became more sophisticated and turned to electric guitars and string basses, this music was forgotten or relegated to the attic, the dust, and a few hillbilly record collectors. This was the music which the Ramblers decided to play when they got together several years ago, and this is the music which more and more city and college people are discovering anew, largely through the influence of these same Ramblers. It was easy to see why Saturday night the music was fun to listen to, fun to play, and, as was evident, fun to sing.

The songs they presented were representative of their repertoire: fiddle tunes such as "The Wild Horse", ballads like "Blackjack Davy" and "The Man of Constant Sorrow", a good version of "Pretty Polly" sung by Tracy Schwarz, comic songs such as "That Tickled Me" and "There Ain't No Bugs On Me" (There may be bugs on some of you mugs but...), "Sal's Got a Meatskin", and a few songs from modern bluegrass groups, such as "The Little Girl and The Dreadful Snake" written a few years ago by Bill Monroe.

The Ramblers have changed a little in the past few years, in outlook as well as in personnel, and the last-named song is an example of this. They have added several songs in the style of the bluegrass bands to their repertoire. Bluegrass represents a more recent style of country music than does the old-timey music they are noted for, and this sometimes presents a jarring note in their otherwise closely integrated style. However, when they stick to their old-time numbers, their performance ranges from the good to the wonderful, such as when John Cohen cranked his banjo into a modal tuning and sang "Country Blues"--the melody was simple, the banjo accompaniment was irregular, and the singing was purposely harsh, yet the total effect was singularly moving.

Perhaps the best illustration of the Ramblers' ability to convey the spirit of this music to an audience so far removed from its origin was given by their singing of "The True and Trembling Brakeman". This song is a parlor ballad, and was never meant to be sung on a stage. It records the death of a brakeman beneath the wheels of his train. It's overdone sentimentality verges on stickiness, and its gore- filled descriptions are apt to make present-day audiences break out in uncomfortable laughter. Lesser groups such as the Kingston Trio and the Highwaymen would burlesque it and play it as a comic number. Nevertheless, it is a song which records an actual happening, and was written as a serious ballad by a miner who witnessed the accident. Mike Seeger gave a careful introduction to it and then sang it in a straightforward ballad style, with no attempt to get laughs and no attempt to get tears. At the first description of the brakeman's fall, there was a small expectant burst of laughter as people looked for an indication that the song was really meant to be funny. As Mike continued, people realized that he, at least, was serious, and the song was finished in utter quiet. This is the way the Ramblers approach their music--they could have played for laughs and brought down the house, but they believe that songs should be taken in the spirit in which they were meant and that laughs should be reserved for comic, not serious songs.

No Ramblers' concert could end on a sober note, and this was no exception. The concert ended with three sets of encores, including Tracy Schwarz's wild performance of the "Orange Blossom Special", a fiddle showpiece complete with train whistles, a steam engine, and a goat on the tracks; and a version of "Three Men Went a-Hunting" with the last verse learned from the Philo Glee and Mandolin Society:

Three Men went a-hunting and something they did find,

They came across Champaign, and that they left behind.

The Irishman said "Champaign",

The Scotsman he said "Nay",

The Welshman said, "It's the end of the world,

Let's go back the other way."

This review was printed in the Daily Illini, October 30, 1962, and with permission is reprinted in expanded form. Chain Gqrn Snrq

¶ -t _Jr^J! _Aor^ I l W (a II)

When you hear my bulldog barkin' Somebody round, baby, somebody round.

When you hear my pistol a firin' 'Not'ler man dead, baby, 'nother man dead.

Don't you remember last December? Wind blowed cold, baby, wind blowed cold.

If I had me forty one dollars I'd go home, baby, I'd go home.

See that white man sittin' on a fence post Wastin' his time, baby, wastin' his time.

See that white man sittin on a bar stool Wastin' his time, baby, wastin his time.

I don't know if this has been recorded or even collected, and I don't know its real name. I learned it from my mother, and it's "just always been around." Sounds good done blues style, with or without blues guitar, and is good for two or more people. I often use it as the lead-in for a medley of "Take This Hammer," "Water Boy," etc. (The 6th verse refers to the ubiquitous folksong collector, in the field, and the 7th verse is my mother's apocryphal addition.) All the music is in C because it's geared to my C recorder and my C harmonica, and I can't read music very well. I prefer to sing or play. Them as wants can transpose. ---Marty Ehrlich

The above music was prepared for mimeography by Diane Wells. PHILO'S FACILITATE

ARTICLE II - AIM

The aim of the Campus Folksong Club is to facilitate the study, exchange, and enjoyment of traditional folk material.

January 18, 1962 Arcola, Illinois Dear Mr. "Sheriff Sid,"

We want to tell you how much we enjoyed your "Philo, Mandolin Glee Club." It brings back memories of the "good old tunes." We would much rather hear this sort of songs and music, than all these (High Flutin) songs and music put together....

This is a portion of a letter received by Champaign television station WCIA in response to appearance made by the Philo Glee and Mandolin Society. The Philo's performed on the early morning children's program, Tinker Time, several times between January and June of this year. Below the signatures of this leter was a descriptive phrase, "70 year old youngsters."

Many other letters were received at WCIA commenting on the Philo's appearance, and they were later given to Doyle Moore, the group's autoharpist. Families in Effingham, Bement, Homer, Foosland, Watseka, and other central Illinois towns wrote to Sheriff Sid (Tinker Time's host) to thank him for presenting the Philo Glee and Mandolin Society. One such letter follows in part:

January 18, 1962 Mattoon, Illinois Dear Sheriff Sid:

I love the Old Country music you had on T.V. this A.M. on Tinker Time.

You see my dad was born in Ky and has played the 5 string banjo and all of those tunes all his life and it took me back to my childhood days when in the evening I'd rock my baby sister or brother to sleep and Dad would sit on the Daven and play and sing those songs or maybe sit and play with his eyes shut.

He is 73 yrs old now and alone as mother passed away last May. If I could get him with those boys or get those boys with him somewhere and somehow, it would mean so much to him, as it did me today....

These letters are more than fan mail. These letters are a tremendous compliment to the Philo Glee and Mandolin Society for reproducing Southern Mountain music in a form which is recognizable by people involved in that tradition.

by Larry Klingman True-Life Adventure Bonus '

THROUGH THE GREAT SMOKIES WITH JUG AND FIDDLE

Part II

F. K. Plous Jr.

(Our Story: In Part I we left our four Rover Boys in a small Tennessee college town where they had just spent a pleasant hour in the company of an old-time fiddler. The observant reader will remember, however, that shortly prior to this time our heroes had transacted a shady business deal in violation of the Federal laws covering the sale and possession of intozicating beverages, i.e., they had contracted for a half-gallon of the local nerve tonic, to be delivered on Wednesday as requested, in a Mason jar. As this spine-tingling narrative strains our curiosities to the breaking point, let us rejoin the four grubby Wandervogeln as they speed to a backwoods rendesvous in search of forbidden pleasures

Having bid good-by to Mr. Key we began to anticipate the joy of once again seeing our friends at the antique shop and receiving the fateful goodies they had procured for us. They were waiting for us, and wasted no time in the delivery of our moonshine. For an extra two dollars they sold us an antique stone jug; this, they claimed, would age the liquor on the trip back to Chicago. Since we wanted all the age we could acquire in that jug, we readily made the purchase and with well-disguised glee buried the contraband in the back of the station wagon under a pile of sleeping bags, satchels and decaying banjo heads. We chatted awhile with our benefactor about our purchase.

"I ain't knowed nobody to die from it," he said. "Feller makes it--he drainks it all'a time." And he scratch-ed his head--in a gesture which did not express frustration, as it does in the North, but simply expresses one's desire to scratch one's head. People are much more open and candid in the country.

We bid a final farewell to our friends, for we had more traveling to do--and other matters to occupy our minds. Most prominent among the latter was our smell. We had been on the road for four days and had already run through our meager supply of extra clothing. The weather was hot, our activities were strenuous, and as a result we weren't fit to live with anymore. The others maintained that we all smelled. Whether this was true, I cannot say; I smelled so bad myself that nobody else's stench ever penetrated as far as my nostrils, so there was no love lost when it was suggested that we leave off the persuit of culture for a time and visit the local laundromat.

While at the laundromat we had to pass the time--so, out with the instruments again. We had done this before--playing folk music in a laundromat--and if the roar of the machines is not too bad it usually works out fine. The people trapped in the steamy interior are generally quite happy to have live entertainment, and those who aren't can always sit next to their washer and listen to the suds slosh- ing instead. If folk music is ever to be restored to the people, it seems to me that the medium of transmission will be the coin laundry. They are springing up all over the country, in small towns and large, all types of people use them, aid they are usually open 24 hours a day. Performers take note: If you aren't making it at home--go to the laundromat and sing your little hearts out. There's always somebody who will listen. Lily-white and sweet smelling were our clothes, but modern technology has not yet solved the problem of how one is to take off one's skin and throw that into the Bendix too. Accordingly we set off for Tremont, inside the Smoky Mountains National Park, where a fast-running river shallows out into a pool deep enough to swim in. This was at dusk, with the river making noises on the stones and the sun already out of sight behind a mountain. Grabbing our bars of soap we disappeared into a grove of trees to shed our clothes and then stuck our toes in the river. It was warm--and clean.

Those of us who try to tell about swimming in that river will probably try to make it into a humorous experience--which can be done--especially if your name is Jarvis or Andy and you have to negotiate the strange, dark and rocky bottomed river without your eyeglasses. But aside from such instances the experience was mainly aesthetic, if that is the word to describe the sense of quiet, still peace that enveloped me in that river. There was no noise except that of the river and tlhe trees. It was dark, and the mountains rose straight up all around. The water and the soap felt good; the dirt and the sweat and the fatigue floated away in the water. Everything was very much in its place. The incident as a whole was undertaken as a matter of necessity, but it shortly turned into something more. When I have forgotten other details of the trip that swim (or more logically-- bath) in the river will still taste sweet, preserved no doubt by the persistent romanticism of those who are always trying to take a trip somewhere.

Next installment: Uncle Bob Baker and the Hazard (Ky) Jail

THE EDITOR SPEAKS

Well, the Club has presented two successful concerts, and is now venturing on its third with Jean Redpath. Club members have not neglected (we hope) to practice their banjo and guitar lessons. Members have attended one seminar, four folksings and a number of heated executive committee meetings.

The time has come to sit down and to write about it all; to tell what has happened and what is going to happen; to print reviews of past events and to announce those of the future. We have already invited our readers to submit theoretical and feature stories to Autoharp. Many of our readers have responded, as indicated by the presence of this issue in your hands. We would now like to offer our readers a chance to expose themselves; to publish their own views, in short, to write a letter to the editor.

What do you think of the Club? the folksings? the review of the last concert? folk music today? folksingers? records you have heard? The purpose of Autoharp is two-fold. True, Autoharp should and does fulfill a didactic need, but it must also be the mouth piece for the personal opinions of CFC members.

The largeness of the Club sometimes makes it difficult for all of us to get to know each other, to exchange ideas, and to compare and contrast views. Maybe Autoharp is the place for this. Actually what we are trying to do is pry. We're sure that you too would enjoy reading the opinions of your contemporaries, whether you agree or disagree. We know that everyone likes to see his opinion in print. Therefore, we urge you to submit your letters to the editor or to the 322 Illini Union box along with any rebuttals you may be compelled to write.

In the last editorial, readers were reminded that "this is your Club...use it." Perhaps the only way to conclude is to state that this is your Autoharp too.

--- Benette Rottman .ýEthnics versis Folkniks

by Kandee Trefil

For convenience's sake I'll define an ethnic (prostituting the adjective into a noun) as a person who digs particular cultures, has respect for the people in them, understands and empathizes with their mores and folkways, and tries to sing their songs as they do, from their point of view.Dissimilarly then, a folknik is a person who digs folk songs and tries to fit them, no matter what the expense, into the framework of his own culture. To avoid confusion I will use the much maligned "Kingston Trio" to epitomize the folknik, altho I am sure I could find a much more vulgar example. No one can really epitomize an ethnic as they tend to specialize and be considerably more individual- istic. To begin with I'll be quite frank and admit I am pro-ethnic. I believe the Kingston Trio definitely serves a purpose tho, and often a good one. They sometimes provide a stepping stone into a more scholarly and humane understanding of folk music; inotherwords, for most people it is difficult to attain the ethnic point of view before having enjoyed folk songs of your own culture or of other cultures worked into your own culture. However, other aspects of the impact of the Kingston Trio have been unpardonably degenerative. It's like dressing up and going to a concert where college students sing in chorus "RockaMy Soul in the Bosom of Abraham"...how many people are interested in the people who created such masterpieces of folk culture? The same people who attend the concert could be the very ones who picket, violate, kill, and degrade those coming from the culture which .ppr6duced the song. And how many people would have enough respect for the inherent ART in the song to be interested enough to go to the culture where it was born and listen to how it was originally sung?

The Kingston Trio must sell, it must be popular. And what is the best way to insure this success? How did Amos and Andy become populaz? It was a very old gimmic. Since Old Testament times there has had to be a scape goat. The Negro used to be a popular cultural scapegoat. Now it seems that any race or culture will do, so long as it is not ourselves. To illustrate this point let us suppose that the Trio records some ancient American Indian song. Can you imagine them doing it in a way which would leave unanswered questions such as what did some of the religious sumbolism mean? Or would the Trio remove the parts which would arrouse curiosity about the culture..the PEOPLE.. and substitute phrases about beautiful Indian princesses and bold warriors and so forth in order to reinforce delapidated, misleading steriotypes and thus remove the audience's responsibility to see the artists as people, as individuals. This whole idea is caught up in the overwhelming conformity blaring forth from our mass media..from foot- ball games to folksings. To the folknik, then, what purpose do folksongs serve? From my observations I would emphatically pronounce them mere catalysts for a cathartic orgy..or another means to reinforce our tendencies to see people as things and other cultures as laughable or incomprehensible.

Don't misunderstand. I think cathartic orgies are fine. College kids need them and it is one of the best ways to indirectly express anger at having been forced to remain like children..with no suitable sexual outlet, with parental purse-string control or university- parental control, and with no adult respect paid to you. But lets not call these orgies folk music. I can understand, that when some kids ami.Lj adna it ge s sucn. an excei±±l '" .encl rsi., se, cnat tnese angers must need to be expressed. So let's form a dirty-songs club or a club for beating around the bush in expressing how I hate everybody. Or a songwriter's club. Or a recently-written song club. Wouldn't it be more honest to write your own songs, like Woody Guthrie, expressing your own frustrations and the frustrations of people in your culture? These wouldn't be folksongs. They might be Victor Lucas songs or Kan'" dee Trefil songs or Archie Green songs..and then maybe in 50 years they would have diffused into folk songs. I am against insulting people from other cultures by taking out the meat of their art, which it might have taken centuries to create, and screwing it into a song people will buy..selling it like a diseased woman at the market place: beautiful (perhaps) but stupid and insensitive.

The popular entrtainment industry makes every venture it promotes an almost sure thing by having some part of its particular form, be it a song or a program or a performer, appeal to those many unfortunate people in our society who need certain types of entertainment like addicts. For this reason dancers were introduced at the beginnings of certain TV shows like Garry Moore's and Jacky Gleason's in order to provide girlie interest. For this reason nearly all of our popular songs deal with love as our society seems to suffer from a great lack of it as proven by the divorce ratio. For this reason Shakespeare and the Bible used to appeal to the masses because in those writings are contained such a variety of perversions that nearly everyone's needs were assuaged.

There is and perhaps always will be, an antagonism between people who are working within in a culture as is (folkniks) and people who try to see behind and beyond it (ethnics). The large mass of people who buy the commercial commercial records and sing the commercial commercial songs think the ethnics to be snobs and pretentious. Some of them are. Some of them become that way merely to negate the present culture and to be able to say to themselves they are above it. But in my opinion nearly all of the other group are snobs because they have no real respect for the works of art they are dealing with, the people who put sweat and love into those works, or the people who do have respect for those things. Either that, or the folknik phase is a stepping stone to the ethnic point of view.

Connected with this line of reasoning is a necessary differenti- ation between two types of entertainment. The kind the ethnic is interested in is associated with pleasure and love of learning. The other type of entertainment is the popular kind which must serve as a frustration release for the majority of people since it has little scholarly information to offer unless one is studying present day society.

MY rea± oojection to the "folkniic altitude" is that it often ae- grades groups of people and their art, that it is not very reflective and critical except- for a financial profit criterion, and that it. . leads people into thinking that entartainment is something a person or audience consumes like a baby on a breast rather than something you seek for two reasons: pleasure and interest.

So for the hundreds of people whom the Kingston Trio converts to love of anthropology, art, perhaps even of internationalism, how many thousands do they reinforce and encourage to the damnation of being satisfied with the very incomplete, incompetant, and insulting machin- ery of a money-oriented financial venture which is aimed at appealing to your weaknesses and perversions...? ELLIOTT CONCERT Roger Ebert

Rambling Jack Elliott rambled into Latzer Hall Tuesday night and rambled out again two hours later, having deposited several good folksongs and an unquenchable supply of anecdotes. The anecdotes--or "folk lore", if you're a true-blue fan-- sometimes seemed not only endless but pointless. The sor.gs and the singing were very good.

Elliott is a follower of the Woody Guthrie school of folk singing, and many of his selections were Guthrie songs in the Guthrie manner. But he ranged widely adding Negro blues and a Scottish song as well as several Guthrie type songs by other composers. Elliott was relaxed and informal in the concert, which was for Campus Folksong Club members only. His guitar work was excellent, his voice was flexible and his stage manner was humorous and entertaining.

But one thing just seemed to lead to another in those between-song talkathons. He went into detail about how he learned almost every song he sang, adding biographi- cal details on the composer. Then, oftener than not, he reminisced about the place and time of his learning the song, and what the circumstances were.

Much of the material was interesting, true. For insiders, his comments on other folk singers, particularly the New Lost City Ramblers, Mike Seeger, Joan Baez, Big Bill Broonzy, "Leadbelly", the Kingston Trio and Jean Redpath were absorbing and sometimes acute. Sample comment: "Jean Redpath is a good, honest singer, not one of these girlie-show types, and her hair isn't particularly long." Another comment: "If you want to see REAL guitar tuning, go to a concert by the Ramblers. Sometimes I just go to those concerts to watch them tune...."

But some of the anecdotes seemed rather far-fetched, and certainly one can be interested in folk lore without possessing an undying passion for stories of Mike Seeger's maid, the train station in Venice, or the historical accuracy of the Kingston Trio's folksong research. Perhaps it is unfair to dwell overlong on Elliott' monologues, but at a rough guess they took up more than half of the program and left time for too little singing.

The singing Elliott did ranged from the familiar "Blue", a song about a dog, to a good selection of talking blues by Guthrie and others.

As Elliott sang, it was possible to think about a world when farmers were tractored off the land and fled west to the "orange bowl" of California. The songs recaptured the poverty and the simple faith of many people in the thirties, the same poor people that Guthrie traveled with and lived with for years. Other songs were from the cowboy tradition where Elliott learned his first guitar methods.

"I don't claim to sing all folksongs," Elliott said. "I'm just an entertain- er...." But his singing was folk singing if it can be defined through purity of the lyrics, the ability of the singer to transmit emotion with the words, and an appreciation for the traditions of the songs.

Elliott didn't ad-lib; he didn't use gimmicked lyrics to get easy laughs; and he didn't apologize for the authenticity of his songs. In fact, one of the most moving selections all night was a cowboy's lullaby to his cows, done without guitar. Campus Folksong Club members heard excellent singing in an important folk tradition Tuesday night. They also, perhaps, got a little more "folk lore" than they really needed.

This review was printed in the Daily Illini, November 21, 1962, and with permission is reprinted in expanded form.

CAMPUS FOLKSONG CLUB: BERLIN SECTOR REPORTS

November 25, 1962

Dear

It was a pleasant surprise to receive your little package (Autoharp, Daily Illini reviews, and Club posters). Really makes one nostalgic. I voraciously devoured all the articles you sent. I will pass these things on to Warren (Leming), so you needn't send him a set.

My guitar has not arrived yet but I'm expecting it any day now. My records are here and I'm planning on getting a record player payday.

You ask me how the "folk scene" is in Europe. What a laugh. Since I don't speak German I have no way of meeting anyone even vaguely interested in folk music; Warren is in the same position. Actually, I have really lost touch with anything concerning folk or country music. I am happy to report, however, that there is a Hillbilly radio program daily on Armed Forces Radio Network and they sometimes play some good stuff.

Did you read Time Magazine's article on folk music? I thought it was pretty bad. There was a distinct lack of substantial information on the subject of folk music and I got the impression that the writer is somewhat of a flippant son of a gun who really doesn't take the subject of folk music seriously. In all his money jibes he neglects to mention that Scruggs & Flatt are among the wealthiest country artists and are nonetheless fawned over by folkniks. Time's entertaining tongue- in-cheek writing style got out of hand in this article.

Say hello to everybody at the Club for me & Warren and observe a moment of silence while playing the Stanley Brothers.

Alex

(PFC A. Gaydasch) USA Svc. Co. Berlin APO 742, N.Y., N.Y.

COMING EVENTS

December 8 Saturday Jean Redpath Concert 8:00 PM Lincoln Hall Theatel

December 14 Friday Folksing 8:00 PM 314 Altgeld Hall

January 4 or $ Open Membership Concert (Artist and place to be announced)

January 11 Friday Folksing 314 Altgeld Hall

February 16 Saturday Jess Fuller Concert Lincoln Hall Theatel Executive Committee Meetings will be held at 7:30 PM in room 43 of the Labor and Industrial Relations Building on December 5 & 19, and January 9. FOLK MUSIC RADIO LOG

Compiled by "Sunny" Davis

WDAN-AM 1490 Danville, Illinois Saturdays, 6:35 p.m.

Club member Ron Whisler in a 20 minute program--Sound of Folk Music--playing records from his own collection. Ron is a five-string banjo player--and he plays a lot of good banjo recordings. He gives Club concerts and events a good plug.

WBBM-AM 780 Chicago, Illinois WBBM-FM 96.3 Sundays, 8:30-9:00 p.m.

Bob Cosby, professor of English at Roosevelt University, hosts This is Folksong. Mr. Cosby uses an educational approach-- tracing histories of songs, influences of cultures and songs, types of instruments, etc. Quite informative and very enjoyable.

WSBC-FM 93.1 Chicago, Illinois Wednesdays, 10:00-11:00 p.m.

Meetin' House with Ray Flerage is the outstanding folk-music programs from Chicago. His themes are extremely interesting and timely and always done very well. Mr. Flerage primarily draws from Folkways, Library of Congress and the Prestige series for his presentation.

WXFM-FM 105.9 Chicago, Illinois Mondays and Fridays, 9:00-11:00 p.m.

Night-time Folksong brings a smattering and splattering of all kinds of folk-folkum-folknik music on records. Information on the folk-scene in Chicago is given.

W-FIU-FM 103.7 Bloomington, Indiana Tuesdays, 6:00-7:00 p.m. (CST)

Joe Hickerson presents Your Singing Heritage. He often has a live program featuring talent from Indiana University's folksong club. The programs of reccrds are very good.

Additions to the log are welcome. BLUES ARTIST BLACKWELL BURIED

by Walter Spencer The Indianapolis Times, Thursday, October 11, 1962

The blues started rolling,

Stopped at my front door - - -

I'm going to change my way of livin'

Won't worry myself no more.

Well, I love you baby,

But you just won't behave;

Girl, I'm going to buy me a .44 pistol,

Put you in your grave.

Francis (Scrapper) Blackwell, 1116 N. Capitol, almost wrote his own obituary. All his life he composed traditional Negro blues songs. He played a piano or guitar and sang about a life of good times and misery, money, women, and liquor, jail, and the blues.

He had them all. In the 1920's, his records sold millions of copies. He and his partner, Leroy Carr, made money almost faster than they could spend it. Since the depression, Blackwell was known only to a relatively few persons, folklorists and jazz historians.

Scrapper's funeral was held today at Jacobs Brothers West Side Chapel. He was found dead last Saturday (October 6) night in a West Side alley, a bullet in his chest. A 75-year-old man, Robert Beam of 527 W. 17th, is being held without bond in the county jail on a preliminary charge of murder in connection with the slaying.

Scrapper was 65. He died just when new interest was being shown in his music after he had been virtually forgotten for 30 years. Scrapper once wrote a song called "How Long Blues". It was the first record he and Carr made. It sold over a million copies immediately on the "race record" market and started the pair on a career in which they made over 80 records. The song remains today one of the most often played examples of pure American blues music.

Carr died at the age of 30 in 1935. Scrapper lived on in relative obscurity here (Indianapolis), playing only occasionally for old friends. With changing popular taste in music, there was little demand for Scrapper's work, his habits were irregular, often he sold or lost guitars.

With the revival of interest in folk music, Scrapper was rediscovered and played a concert here in 1959. A British record company recorded a long playing album which was reviewed as "very good" by Downbeat, the jazz magazine. A New York record company recorded Scrapper and released it last spring. He never heard the record. The Indianapolis Public Library has one song recorded by Scrapper during the peak of his career. It is on a folkways anthology of the beginnings of American jazz called, "The South."

Scrapper was buried in New Crown Cemetery. He is survived by two brothers, Herschell and Dollison Blackwell--and his music. I

Klll