Just This Banjo By Patrick Costello For my father. My hero, my mentor, my father, my partner, and most of all, my friend. No son has ever had such a cohort in a jam, on stage or in life. Special thanks go to my Patreon sponsors for helping us make this book happen. I love you all. ISBN: 0-9744190-7-9 © Copyright 2019 Joseph Patrick Costello III Cover art by Carlos Vazquez My sincerest heartfelt thanks to Ken Brewer – he knows why. Here we stand before your door, As we stood the year before; Give us whiskey, give us gin, Open the door and let us in. Or give us something nice and hot. Like a steaming bowl of pepper pot! ~The Philadelphia Mummers Birdsong brings relief to my longing I'm just as ecstatic as they are, but with nothing to say! Please universal soul, practice some song or something through me! ~Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi Even a fish would stay out of trouble if it kept its mouth shut! ~My father Contents Introduction .......................................................................................................................... 5 The Rabbit ............................................................................................................................. 6 The Guitar Girl ....................................................................................................................... 8 The Core .............................................................................................................................. 14 Aunt Mannie ....................................................................................................................... 21 Paul the Beatnik .................................................................................................................. 23 Tiny ..................................................................................................................................... 29 Enter the Dobro ................................................................................................................... 34 Why I Play the Banjo ........................................................................................................... 42 Fine Irish Lads ...................................................................................................................... 47 Riding The Rails ................................................................................................................... 55 I’ve Looked at Clowns From Both Sides Now ....................................................................... 59 Harmonica Joe ..................................................................................................................... 61 The Old Man and the C Chord .............................................................................................. 66 Amish Elvis .......................................................................................................................... 73 A Show Of Shows................................................................................................................. 75 B♭ ........................................................................................................................................ 79 Mountain Music .................................................................................................................. 83 Finding Elmore .................................................................................................................... 90 Busted! ................................................................................................................................ 95 The House of the Rising Bouzouki ........................................................................................ 98 The Parade ........................................................................................................................ 103 The Great Jam-Buster Beatdown ....................................................................................... 111 Tennessee Flat-Top Barf .................................................................................................... 115 Hootenanny! ..................................................................................................................... 122 It’s A Sin ............................................................................................................................ 126 Just This Banjo ................................................................................................................... 129 Copyright Notice ................................................................................................................ 132 Introduction The Arkansas Traveler is a very old skit performed by minstrels, medicine show performers, and Vaudevillians. The premise is simple. A gentleman from the city stops in front of a dilapidated shack to ask directions from a farmer. The city fellow asks questions and gets funny responses from the farmer as he plays his banjo. City Feller: “Hey, farmer! You been livin' here all your life?” Farmer: “Not yet.” After each back and forth, the farmer plays a bit of a tune on his banjo. City Feller: “Hey, farmer! Where does this road go?” Farmer: “Been livin' here all my life; it ain't gone nowhere yet.” City Feller: “Hey, farmer! Thought you said that mud-hole weren't very deep?” Farmer: “Only comes up to here on my ducks.” City Feller: “Hey, farmer! You don't know very much, do you? Farmer: “No, but I ain't lost.” Near the end of the skit, the city feller gets frustrated. City Feller: “There isn’t much between you and a fool!” Farmer: “Just this banjo.” I love that last joke. It could very well be the story of my life. I have navigated through life with nothing shielding me from the world but my banjo and guitar. I started playing the banjo to win a bet, but my dream was to be a guitar player. My first guitar was an instrument I salvaged from the trash and patched together with duct tape. I was not sure how to get started, but then I ran across this quote from Woody Guthrie: The worst thing that can happen is to cut yourself loose from the people. And the best thing is to sort of vaccinate yourself right into the big streams and blood of the people. I took my banjo and my crappy guitar out into the streets of Philadelphia. No idea of where to go, no money in my pockets and no goal in mind. Into the streets, out into the night and the bloodstream of the city. Nothing between me and the world but my instruments. I met saints and sinners. I made music with and for Mafiosos and the IRA. I have sung for and with the sick, lonely, and crazy. I played for millionaires and jammed with a man so poor he did not own matching shoes. I had no armor or protection. Just this banjo. That is what this book is about. Simple as that. The Rabbit It was show-and-tell time at Raggedy Anne and Andy Nursery School in Wheaton, Illinois. For reasons I can no longer remember, I had nothing to share with the group. I can remember a palatable sense of fear as each of my classmates stood up to share some treasure from home. I was furiously praying for my mom to wander in with my show and tell item – and if that did not happen, maybe the teacher would skip me. Yes! Perhaps I would not get called! “Joseph?” Our teacher snapped me out of my reverie. “Do you have something to share?” Without hesitating or stopping to think about what to do next, I went into a pitch about my amazing invisible rabbit. I talked about how ordinary pets couldn’t go to school, but you can take an invisible rabbit anywhere! I went through the motions of picking up an invisible cage, opening its invisible door, reaching in and gently picking up my invisible rabbit. I held out my invisible rabbit for the kids to see. They were all impressed — Oohs and ahhs from around the room. Since things were going well, I handed the invisible rabbit to one of the kids and allowed everybody to stroke its invisible fur before passing it along. Everybody was very gentle. Once the rabbit got back to me, I tossed it back in its cage, and that was the end of that – or so I thought. The next day one of the kids remembered my rabbit. Upon request, I produced the invisible cage, and pretty soon everybody was petting my invisible rabbit again. The requests to produce the invisible rabbit went on for a little while. Then our teacher took me aside. She was very nice, but my ability to bring out the invisible rabbit on request raised concerns that I did not know the difference between reality and fantasy. As if I were talking to a stupid person, I explained the situation as best I could: 1. Yes, I know the difference between what is real and what is make-believe. 2. I do not have an invisible rabbit. I needed something for show and tell, so I used my imagination. 3. It makes the other kids happy to play with the rabbit, so I pretend to have it with me. When word of this got back to my parents, my father thought the whole thing was hilarious. I would have forgotten about the incident, but it came back up years later. My mother was giving a handspinning demonstration at an arts festival. My friend Richie and I were left to roam the ground of the festival for the day. Ritchie wound up working the bellows of a forge for a blacksmith. We were just little kids. Richie worked those bellows in the heat, smoke, embers, and flames for the whole day. He did such an incredible job that the blacksmith offered him an apprenticeship! My day was spent with different artists. I spent time with a glassblower. I helped