Friends of John Otte (FoJO)

 May 24 is John Otte’s birthday. 

About 12 years back, John had a bike wreck in NOLA, and on blood thinners, he died in hospital there. Later, there was a memorial in Atlanta; Will Brann says he and [one other] were only classmates there in a small group. Will named his efforts to preserve memories of our late great classmate, John, as FOJO (Friends of John Otte). As in: I got my FoJO working (but it just don’t work on you…)

Otte’s mother, Susan Bridges, secured his artwork, and presents a selection on her gallery website. Her gallery is beside the house she restored, where John grew up. Here (updated) https://whitespace814.com/artist/john-otte

I’m asking for memories or stories of John Otte. Not to worry, that part will continue long term. As a folklorist, this moment, I’ll call it Ottelore.

Mine: the last time I saw John, he visited Carlos Museum Bookshop where I am a clerk. He had projects. We talked. He looked around. He spoke more about dj work than art work, and how he loved New Orleans, and he had energy for the future. In the 1980s, he shared with me his enthusiasm for Pee-Wee’s Playhouse and the designs of its staff artist, comics artist Gary Panter. When we were kids, I remember John and his ever-present tennis ball in Junior High, always with him on campus. In Virginia Carnes’ AP Art class, 1980-1, John shined, but I could not keep up. Girls in the class played the B-52s, then riding the wave of their first great album, and I can picture John with that B-52 energy; Ehdi Volk-Mishimoto  (formerly Diane Volk) and Edwin Wilder remember John more with Devo (“Are we not men? /D-E-V-O…”)  

I truly admired John’s own performance art, expressed in the manikin head he put on his muscle car then exchanged wigs, and in his enthusiasm for the drive-in with that to The Varsity, which was always on his way home. He had particular fun with one carhop there in those days. I thought John saw the world with an artist’s vision.

Here are a few replies and comments from emails this month, edited for this post.

David Woodham: “I was fortunate to stay in touch with John after he moved back to Atlanta, from New York, and I reviewed a real estate lease for him regarding some unique commercial space that he wanted to use, but I don't recall whether he ever took the plunge in that space. If I recall correctly it was some space literally under a bridge, either on Howell Mill, or perhaps Northside drive. I also fondly recall his Mr. Suave line of clothing, sundries, etc. which was very cool. I also recall his art show at Westminster, and my favorite piece was titled "Smoldering Ice," and it was very creative and well-executed." I'll tell you about it in person. He was such a gentle and forward-thinking person; it seems unfair (to us) that he is no longer in this world.”

David Perdue: This all makes me very happy. My wife, Sissy (nee Elizabeth), and I lived on Edgewood Avenue from about 1993 until 2000. Got to know Susan (Bridges) then and think she is the bomb. 

We chaired a GA Trust (for Historic Preservation) Ball and had Otte DJ for a shake up of the old guard. He also played at my 40th birthday party to great fanfare. He was a very real and kind person. Driving from Inman Park to Westminster was a journey he embraced.  Did he have an old Mustang?  (BAT: That’s it, the car I remembered.)

Edwin Wilder: Do I recall correctly, wasn’t John Otte really into Devo?  They were the ones with the pyramid shaped red hats.   During homeroom they would play announcements, and he would DJ some Devo.

Ehdi Volk-Mishimoto [formerly Diane Volk]: Devo is the only thing that comes to mind, but yes I remember him very fondly. 

Sam Bentley: I am so sorry to hear about John and glad that folks are working to preserve his legacy. I did not interact with him after HS graduation, but it seems he had a rich life. I am sorry I did not know he was in New Orleans at the time or we could have connected.

Jay Lyle (when told what Will told me, that Susan Bridges will hang a coat of John’s on the porch on Edgewood for him, like at Inman Park Festival): Cool. So when she hangs the coat there is an impromptu Otte salon?

BAT: Here’s my toast to John Otte and salon. May we all share in his spirit. Let’s keep it up!

[Tip of the BAT hat/acknowledgements to Will Brann, Susan Bridges and to Brian Smith and Russell Gray for support.]

Jimmy Buffett

The loss of Jimmy Buffett brings a lot to mind: his songs, his legacies, and my Uncle Billy's time on Key West. First off, my first concert was 1976ish, a triple bill at The Omni in downtown Atlanta: Richie Furay opening; Jimmy Buffett; and the Marshall Tucker Band with special guest Charlie Daniels on fiddle and voice. My old pal Sam Bentley may have clearer memories of attending, but I remember Furay cheerfully and Tucker loudly: but who opened for whom? I think Buffett was in the middle and such a showdog.

I loved Buffett's top 40 hit, "Come Monday," particularly during the summer of 1974 at Camp Carolina. That song always gets me, with its discursive mellow tone. But Buffet leaves both big shoes to fill and interesting legacies. His music deserves more listens and more discussion.

In Florida, and the rest of the Gulf Coast, there is so much to say about Buffett. My late Uncle Billy Bryan lived in Key West roughly 1974-6 and his stories included the influence of our man Buffett, which Billy would pronounce: "Buf-FAY." When I moved to Florida in the 1990s, I heard constant tales of Buffett's work for Save the Manatee, important Florida politics and politicians, and good works. I enjoyed seeing him in the film of one of Carl Hiaasen's juveniles, I think Hoot.

My teacher at FSU for a Coastal Ecosystems course was the late Anne Rudloe, who I had already appreciated as a commentator on WFSU. Her husband Jack and their Gulf Specimen Marine Laboratory have posted to Facebook of Buffet's generosity and support, and that is characteristic.

In Atlanta, his Margaritaville empire bulldozed a keynote structure in music business history; here's part of that story. But Buffett had always included Atlanta appearances and fans in his plans. I seem to recall him as I would read headliner ads as a youngster at both the Great Southeast Music Hall and the Bistro. I got a little tired of the big hits getting overplayed, but that was part of growing up: songs you knew by heart. Even that lost shaker of salt...

There is a lot of writing, now, as well there should be, about Buffett in this moment of retrospect, without him. Retired Florida journalist Jeff Kinkenberg catches something I feel in his immediate reaction on Facebook: "...More than a talented musician, Jimmy Buffett wrote escapist songs that bolstered a Florida beach lifestyle of carefree days, drunken nights and casual sex. The great majority of his fans took the Margaritaville vibe all in fun, but many of us knew folks who took it seriously to death. We saw them at beach bars barely able to stand in those calloused bare feet..." You can balance this with the songs themselves, even "Margaritaville," with its changing refrain to, finally, "It's my own damn fault." Jon Pareles in the NYT puts it well: Jimmy Buffett Was More Than Beaches and Booze.

More happily, I have his songs in my brain for good. I have to re-listen to "A Pirate Looks at Forty" now I'm sixty. I love remembering that he shares "Banana Republics" with author Steve Goodman. But a special favorite, lyrics all mixed and personalized, is "It's My Job." As I graduated from Westminster in May 1981 I had two jobs, one at McDonald's and the other doing cleanup for the Shelter Company, and the latter I kept all summer. My pal Tim Cole (photographer) brightened our work with music and stories, including Buffett and this song, which he shared with our pals Jake and high school classmate Mark Wilson. Tim sang, "Because it's my job!/ To be cleaning up this house [or, fill in your favorite noun, here] / And that's what I'm gonna do." Memorable. Got me through, too. 

Here's Buffett and "It's My Job." Not just for Labor Day week. 

God bless, rest, and keep our man, Jimmy Buffett.

Review: A Man Called White

A Man Called White: The Autobiography of Walter White. Walter White. University of Georgia Press reprint.

Man, I loved reading this. Now, I'm on the hunt for the newly published biography of Walter White. It's  White Lies: The Double Life of Walter F. White and America’s Darkest Secret, by A.J. Baime  (Mariner, 2022). I first heard about the first chapters of this memoir fifteen years ago, on the anniversary of the 1906 Atlanta riots, which young White witnessed personally. He grew up not far from where my maternal grandfather was born; I wish he was alive to discuss this with me. White gets around, before and during his tenure with the NAACP. There is so much here. 

Recently, I read the great two-volume graphic novel series by Mat Johnson Incognegro, a historical fiction seemingly drawing from the experiences White narrates in the first part of this memoir, investigating hate crimes, lynchings, and jailed black people, by passing for white while investigating.  But the stories get quite deep, especially, to me, the negotiations for blacks in the armed services before the integration of the services, just after this was published.

Read this book. Highest recommendation.

View all my reviews: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1297492-brent

Once Upon a Time in Atlanta, by Raymond Andrews

From https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48593831-once-upon-a-time-in-atlanta---the-chattahoochee-review

Once Upon A Time in Atlanta - The Chattahoochee Review (Volume XVIII, Number 2) Raymond_Andrews 

This is so fine, and deserves republication, together with the rest of Andrews' work.

I knew Raymond a little bit in Athens, just before he took his life, leaving behind this manuscript. This coming-of-age of exploration while staying at the YMCA is a joy to read. I started reading before the pandemic, had to return it to the library, and, upon starting again, reread the early chapters with pleasure. And it gets better... We lost a great one in Raymond Andrews. I want to find both Baby Sweets [harder than it used to be; may have to check ugapress.com] and The Last Radio Baby, soon.

Thanks to The Chattahoochee Review, part of GSU Clarkston, formerly Georgia Perimeter College, for publishing this as a Special Issue of The Chattahoochee Review. Thanks for the loan(s), Fulton County Public Library.

Highest recommendation.

View all my reviews: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1297492-brent

My Antonia

[clumsily reworked from my Goodreads review of my personal Summer reading favorite]

Why did I never read Willa Cather before? Reasons pale.  There is so much life here, so well described and portrayed. Nebraska farms and towns come to vivid life. In my most surprising moment of recognition, there is a traveling performer who appears under a different name, in a concert in a Nebraska hotel on tour, described as a Louisianan but a sure enough ringer for Blind Tom Wiggins, the Georgia pianist: refer to Wikipedia, here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blind_Tom_Wiggins . This is only one small chapter of a lovely book, in which a young male narrator and immigrant women including Antonia, all come of age together.

Got to read some more Cather.

Highly recommended. 

View all my reviews: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1297492-brent 

Let's help Ellie F. of East Atlanta, Georgia

I'm a little late with this; still, this is going to keep being both needed and important. Do share; this is a great cause for a great soul. The oldest daughter of John & Audrey Ferguson, of Atlanta's Hair of the Dog band, Ellie needs help from a wider community as she heals. Ellie's Aunt, Amy, wrote this suggested test for sharing... 

 "My friend Ellie needs our help. Her family has organized a GoFundMe, and her full story is in the link, but the short story is that she has a long road ahead recovering from a brain hemorrhage in June. Ellie is only 26 so she needs all her parts to get rehabilitated so that she can keep playing music, painting, traveling, gardening, and sharing her beautiful smile and spirit with us. Let’s “Pay it Forward for Ellie” this Labor Day weekend [and after]! Thank you for anything you can give." https://gofund.me/6cb363f5

Uncle John Keeley Sullivan, of Cleveland Heights, Ohio

My Aunt Mary Lane's husband, my Uncle John, died a few days ago, at home. He leaves a fine set of memories, his children, my first cousins David, Wright, and Keeley, and their children, his grandchildren. He was sharp and fun. He loved an intelligent conversation. An early date with my wife involved a game of charades while John and Mary Lane visited Keeley. I envied their trips to Ireland while we were kids, put in context in this fine obituary, printed first in Cleveland then this Sunday in the Atlanta Journal-Consitution. When we can gather, we'll gather in Atlanta. My mom met my Dad, BAT, Jr., during the wedding of John And Mary Lane in Cleveland. God rest his soul.

Devil in the Grove: Thurgood Marshall, the Groveland Boys, and the Dawn of a New America by Gilbert King
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This was so compelling and so important. As a resident of Florida, 1994-2004, I had heard some outlines of this, but understanding the complicity of law enforcement with white supremacy in these generations takes effort. This book is worth your effort.
This paperback edition, in the addenda, give the author more space, in which to both discuss his process, and cite a few quotations, and, even more important, share some particularly literate letters of comment from his reader mail.
Check the author website, here: http://www.gilbertking.com/devil/Devi...
Highest recommendation.

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Reuben McDaniel (Dan) Tuck, a great soul, age 58

We lost Reuben, known stateside as Dan, last Sunday to a heart attack at home in Phuket, Thailand. "Vootie." [From Harvey Kurtzman and Will Elder, MAD Comics] That's how we greeted each other since 1975-6, referring to Harvey Kurtzman's MAD. We met sometime in the late 1960s at the All Saints Episcopal Church Nursery and/or Sunday School, and the Coca-Cola machine, a bottle for a dime, where the All Saints Choir meets now. Dan's father, Reuben, a Choir longtimer, died a few years ago; I wrote about him in this blog here. Reuben, our man Dan, was super-talented: a mimic, a mime, a voice actor, a standup, a smartass, who, surviving many ups and downs, moodswings, and life changes, grew into a bit of a sage, and a certified sommelier. I can hear his voice alive in my mind. From a routine in Junior High about family reunions ("I haven't seen you since you were this tall [PUNCH to stomach] and now you're THIS big! [SLAP under chin.])" to the wisdom he absorbed from various esoteric sources ("One is taught in accordance with one's fitness to learn.") He transitioned from success as a voice artist to writing for print news in Thailand for the last year or so, happiness hard-earned. In the 1970s, Dan's mom Penny was Executive Secretary to the 2nd Headmaster of The Westminster Schools, Dr. A. Emerson Johnson. His sister sang in the Ensemble and worked in the school Bookstore. Dan, often hyperactive, repeated the Seventh Grade and joined my cohort at Westminster Junior High in September, 1975. With the other T-Z last names in the alphabet, we shared homeroom follies with teacher Billy Ray Schmidt in the 7th and Joanne Tysinger in the 8th. We also shared the comics, cinema, tv, and music of 1975-7: Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko; kung fu and martial arts; Durwood's speech class and George Carlin inaugurating SNL; skateboarding; Kiss, Alice Cooper, and Jethro Tull; mime at and observation of the customers of Cumberland Mall; and the game of Chickensh*t! (You say that word, in class, progressively louder, and the one who gets caught loses. That worked better in P.E., than, say, Coach Todd's American History class.) He transferred, first to public school, meeting lifelong brother Jeff Lankford, then to Berry Academy, where, upon his graduation, the admins put Ms. Martha Berry's school for Appalachian youth to pasture in favor of corporate rentals on the Berry College campus. In the 1980s, he started at LaGrange College, playing either Mercutio or Tybalt (I forget) in a production of Romeo and Juliet, where he worked with Alton Brown. Like me [and, kinda, Brown!] he transferred to UGA. We shared a weekly lunch at The Grill in downtown Athens, 1984-9, chewing the fat in more ways than one. He majored in communication, and moved from Georgia to Hong Kong as soon as he could, where he met his life partner, Normandy Madden. Dan was so funny, fun, and perceptive: still, he had great highs and lows. He went from being choosy with sodas like Tahitian Treat to becoming a certified sommelier. As Reuben, he treasured the last few decades, and he really looked forward to retiring with Normandy to Portugal. My prayer for my pagan friend is to continue sharing stories, memories, and reflections. I am confident he is at peace, beyond pain, though he wanted more time. God bless his loved ones. And bless all souls who miss him. Normandy has had to make memorial arrangements and her messages, like this one, shared with Penny, are full of grace. Quoting: "

As his wife and mother, respectively, we are deeply sorry to inform his friends and family that our darling beloved Reuben McDaniel Tuck III passed away around midnight on Sunday, August 30, 2020 -- a truly terrible year. He died peacefully at home in Phuket, Thailand. He was 58, which is far too young. We are devastated, shocked and incredibly sad. He was a wonderful husband and son and will be greatly missed. He will be cremated on Tuesday, September 8th, at a Buddhist temple in Phuket and later on, when world travel allows it, his remains will be spread on Pawleys Island in South Carolina, a favorite childhood spot, as was his wish. We will organize a Zoom memorial service to take place next week, the details for that will be shared in a few days, if you want to take part. This Facebook page [of Reuben's] will be memorialized and remain active. Reuben was generous, humble, warm, intelligent, kind, creative, always entertaining, a true bon vivant, a fun companion and a crazy character. He will be mourned for a long time. Let’s remember his spirit forever. His life was cut too short, but it was a good life, and he died happy and loved. -Normandy Madden & Penny Irby Lyle

"

A Game for Swallows: To Die, to Leave, to Return by Zeina Abirached
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

"Mourir partir revenir c'est/ le jeu des hirondelles.
To die to leave to return/ it's a game for swallows. Florian" [graffiti on Beirut wall, page 172]
I found used copies after checking this out of the library and overlooking it too long. I waited unnecessarily; don't make the same mistake: this book is captivating. The graphic simplicity of the cartooning draws the reader into the small differences in the repetition of panels and motifs: eye movements, wall hangings, game pieces, sound effects, and rhetorical flourishes, all in an increasingly small space in the Lebanese Civil War.
Abirached uses comics so well. Don't assume this is just one kind of thing: just for young people, just a memoir, just a family... Like many great works, it's more than the sum of its parts.
Thanks to the publisher, Lerner/ Graphic Universe, for this edition, translated from the French.
Highly recommended.


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Review: Prime Leaf: A Novel of the Kentucky Tobacco Wars

Prime Leaf: A Novel of the Kentucky Tobacco Wars by Jack Wall
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This Kentucky novel got a firm hold of me on a recent Kentucky trip. A family saga of tobacco farming and vigilante violence and price wars, Prime Leaf was written by a Georgia retiree who studied writing at Sewanee, the University of the South, and hence, the protagonist is briefly a student at Sewanee, albeit in the late 19th century. The prose is swift and matter-of-fact.
Hill Street Press, a fine Athens, Georgia press in business for too short a time, published Prime Leaf sometime after the author's death. It deserves to stay in print, and I recommend it to anyone interested in a compelling read about the agricultural populism and vigilantism of 100 years ago.

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In Exile from the Land of the Snow, by John F. Avedon

In Exile from the Land of Snows by John Avedon

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


This telling of Tibet's sorrows starts with the story of the Fourteenth Dahlai Lama and unveils the awful story of the collision with China in the last fifty years.

My paperback from 1986 had small print, which only affected the usefulness of the maps on four key pages in front of the book.

I recommend this to all interested in Tibet.



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Reuben Tuck

At All Saints Episcopal Church growing up, the friend with whom I got in most trouble was my pal Dan (or, then, Danny) Tuck. We would sneak down the stairs from the circular horseshoe-shaped Sunday school class rooms, the Horseshoe Room, natch, and attempt to sneak past the venerable Ms. Anna Gurley, church secretary of many decades. When I last visited Ms. Gurley, before her death, in the Rhodes Home beside I-20 in Atlanta, she kept calling me "Danny."

Dan and his sister Betsy were classmates of ours at Westminster. Their father, Reuben, died last week; the AJC obituary is here. I'm planning on attending a memorial tomorrow; quoting the All Saints prayer list:
"Reuben Tuck’s memorial service will be held December 16, at 3:30 p.m. at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter, 737 Woodland Ave SE, Atlanta, GA 30316. Following the service, Southern BBQ will be served in the Church Parish Hall.
In lieu of flowers, it was Reuben's wish that people make contributions to the Friendship Center Program at the Holy Comforter Church.
Expressions of sympathy may be sent to Sally Tuck at 587 Brownwood Ave, Atlanta, GA 30316."

Dan was one of my closest teenage friends. We wound up at the University of Georgia at the same point in the 1980s as well, and scheduled a weekly lunch at The Grill, downtown Athens, in order to keep catching up.

Dan goes by Reuben, himself, now, and works as an actor, announcer, comedy specialist and voice artist in Hong Kong. For the sake of clarity, I'm going to refer to his Dad as Reuben for the next little bit.

I admired the calligraphy Reuben practiced and taught, and examples of art & craft in his home. He taught at continuing education programs in various sites in Atlanta for years. He worked with the Foundation for the Blind (I might have the name of the agency wrong). We often visited at his apartment on Shallowford Road in the 1970s, with fine pipe tobacco in evidence, and lots of good books.

Reuben regularly would sing as a member of the All Saints Church Choir, and in Summers for a year or two, I would attempt to sing in the choir, too, when an open invitation was extended to us congregants. Most of all, I remember the joking and laughter shared by Reuben with the late Herb Beadle in the robing room. Much laughter.

Reuben bought a house over in the East Atlanta neighborhood and Bronwood Park area and remarried. I visited when Dan returned occasionally over the years since the early 1990s. I believe Reuben began worshiping at Holy Comforter when he moved in that neighborhood. We'll be there to honor him tomorrow.

My little girl is eight today!
As soon as I'm off duty, I'll join the girls at a Brownie Scout retreat to a Girl Scout Camp south of Atlanta in Spalding County.
Eight years ago, I became a Dad, and Elizabeth became a mom, through the good auspices of Tallahassee Memorial.
Eight years ago, the United States went to war in Iraq.
It's my daughter I'm celebrating.
And, her school, which celebrated a birthday all year recently, is now in its forties, like me, though I'll soon enter another decade.
Here's The Children's School in a recent profile in Midtown Patch.
Lechaim, y'all!

Happy birthday, Betty Mae Jumper

I just heard good news of the publication of a new biography for children of a great soul, Ms. Betty Mae Tiger Jumper, of Hollywood, Florida. Old pal, author Jan Godown Annino, is promoting her new book for children (of all ages), titled She Sang Promise , with appearances including one in a favorite spot, the St. Marks's National Wildlife Refuge, Saturday, May 1, described here, courtesy of the Tallahassee Democrat.

She Sang Promise, by J. G. Annino, is published by National Geographic, and described here; distributed by Random House, and features a cool sample of the illustrations in a viewer, here.

I've finally found Jan's blog, including the reference to Ms. Jumper celebrating today - April 27 - as her birthday each year, at
http://bookseedstudio.wordpress.com/about-this-site-writer/betty-mae-tiger-jumper/.
So, happy birthday to you, Ms. Jumper! Che-han-tah-mo?

I used to keep and give away copies of Ms. Jumper's own illustrated book, Legends of the Seminole (Pineapple Press), written together with writer Pete Gallagher; here's the book, and the "peek inside" via Google. When I moved to Florida in 1994, I immediately learned about her work, as she received the Florida Folk Heritage Award in that annual cycle. I met her at the Florida Folk Festival, where the Florida Folk Heritage awards celebrate those illustrious souls; we also had the pleasure of hearing a master storyteller who learned traditional stories as a member of Ms. Jumper's family, Ms. Scarlett Young.

The 2010 FFF again features a Seminole Camp this Memorial Day weekend, described here. The camp, at the South gate on US Highway 41 of the Stephen Foster Folk Culture Center in White Springs, is a partnership between the State of Florida and the Seminole Tribe's wonderful staff at the Ah-Tha-Thi-Ki Museum in South Florida. Instead, I'll be selling books in our shop, or some such, again this year; tell 'em all howdy, and I sent you, hear?

The Seminole Tribe of Florida website features a wonderful page about Ms. Jumper, including a story excerpt, Little Frog, here. Ms. Jumper says,

"This story was told to me by my grandmother when I was just a baby. Where we lived, the sounds in the woods were very important to us. We were always asking, "What is that sound from?" A lot of times we were answered with a story such as this one."

[Just ignore the note, "Visit Betty Mae's website"; the tribe kept a site at something like bettymae.com for a while, then stopped.]

And, not to be missed - though I miss a lot of these, and all my old colleagues - in the R. A. Gray Building, is the Voices of Florida Women exhibit at the Museum of Florida History, courtesy of the Florida Department of State, Division of Cultural Affairs in Tallahassee... online, here. Wait, a quick search turns up no Betty Mae Jumper, though other great Seminoles and Florida folk tradition bearers do appear.



However, a search of the collections of the Florida State Archives contains more of the documentary and ethnographic collections, audio and visual samples of Ms. Jumper. Thanks to the State of Florida, Ms. Jumper appears in both the Florida Photographic Collection and the Florida Folklife Collection; a web-based search of the fine finding aids to the Folklife Collection produces archival records as results, here. And in fact, there is an exhibit I missed in 2007-8 at MFH, Seminole People of Florida (still online here); the Archives component paralleling the exhibit features the image of Ms. Jumper I use to accompany my blog post, here.

Hm... The Florida Women's Hall of Fame inducted Ms. Jumper in 1994, as noted here.

Might some kind soul donate an appropriate artifact, working together with curatorial staff, representing Ms. Jumper's career for the Museum of Florida History?

On your birthday, then, again, here's to you, Ms. Betty Mae Tiger Jumper! Be well.

P.S. I wrote my blog post on April 27; it took a week or more to show up on Facebook notes, due to four accompanying photos and a gazillion links. Aha, more Facebook links!
The Facebook group for She Sang Promise is here.
The Ah-Tha-Thi-Ki Museum Facebook page is here.
The 2010 Florida Folk Festival is on Facebook here; and on the web, here.

Vic Chesnutt, friend and talent

Vic has left the building. We'll honor him Sunday December 27:

[Vic's] memorial service will be held at Bridges Funeral Home, 3035 Atlanta Hwy, Athens, GA, 30606 on Sunday, December 27, 2009, from 3:00-6:00 pm. Following the memorial service, family and friends invite you to join them at Cine, 234 West Hancock Ave., Athens, GA.

Vic was my next-door-neighbor, for a time, circa 1988-9. We met about 1986-7, when he joined us at the original Grit cafe with bandmate Todd McBride during a monthly Song Swap. The Athens Folk Music & Dance Society would gather there, and so would Vic. The moldy figs of the Folk Society delightfully met their match... He once told me he wanted to write a song for everyone in Athens. I thought of him as our bard, together with the late John Seawright.

So, when George Norman's place was burgled, his guitar stolen, Jennifer Hartley suggested a benefit at the Grit. Vic, Vic wrote the song, y'all: George Norman, Victim of Crime.
("Yeah, Geo-oorge Nor-MAN/ He's a friend, friend of mine/ Geo-orge Nor-MAN/ Unfor-tu-nate... victim of CRIME.") One AFMDS hoot the folk society songstresses sang backup behind him at Sparky's, and we billed them as Vic Vegas and the Vixens. I've been humming the song he wrote about Vernon J. Thornsberry ("Yes, he's a dishwasher by trade, but with loftier career goals/ At night he paints lovely nudes, in charcoal/ and he left New Orleans just a couple of Mardi Gras's ago.") There are so many great Vic songs: New Town, Elberton Fair... Who is Pulling Brezhnev's Chain... I have more favorite early ones, because I left Athens in 1994. My favorite album of his is West of Rome... bought one night with Tom Waits' Bone Machine and REM's Automatic for the People, and much loved.

AFMDS gave a concert for Vic to play for his parents at the old Unitarian Church, and he illustrated the songs on poster board. It was a magic evening, a great success, not long before they both passed. I loved his art as well as his writing.

The thing is, I loved his singing voice. He could sing a moldy standard and make it his own: "The Falling Leaves;" "Wonderin';" name it, he sang it. But the writing... One time, I went to pay rent, and my alcoholic landlord came to the door in briefs, and said, "Song titles come to me in dreams. Here, take this." And he gave me a song title: "Another One, Darlin'..." Well, I walked down the street to Vic, and later, a pretty good country song was the result.

One summer, the Augusta Heritage Center gave Vic a scholarship to attend a songwriting workshop with Nashville's Fred Koller. I drove with him, in his van. Great trip, filling me with respect for Vic; it was just before he started his regular Tuesday gig at the 40 Watt. During an outdoor evening session, listening to Whit and Barbara Connah of Atlanta up there, he named them The Fabulous Sticks, enjoying the phraseology. But, I think Koller realized Vic was already something special.

Seeing and hearing Vic made you glad to be in his presence. He was always troubled. But man, he could be happy.

Let's tell more Vic stories, sing more Chesnutt songs.

Here's a link, or three:

• An appeal to help with Vic's outstanding debt, at

http://kristinhersh.cashmusic.org/vic/

• The online Guest Book

http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/atlanta/obituary.aspx?n=vic-chesnutt&pid=137794485

• And, Nuci's Space, in Athens, Georgia:

http://www.nuci.org/

God bless...

Happy birthday, Ed Daugherty!

It's the birthday of my father-in-law, Elizabeth's dad, Edward Lawton Daugherty, Senior. He's a landscape architect.

His grandchildren call him Abba (pronounced: Ah-bah.) Let's just say he's in his eighth decade... still going strong... and still going to work outside, to visit job sites in outlying areas, to meet contractors, and to provide a bedrock of laughter and support. Moreover, if you've read about the work of the Buckhead Heritage Society on behalf of Mt. Olive Cemetery, you find he's still sharing regional history.

Just October 10, the Atlanta History Center closed the exhibition of its Cherokee Garden Library, "Edward L. Daugherty, A Southern Landscape Architect: Exploring New Forms." Ed spoke a number of times, to a number of audiences. When I took my daughter, we chased each other in circles around the gallery, and when we left, we met a cousin and friend coming in. When I dropped in October by for a viewing at closing time, staring at one of his designs, I collided with an old UGA pal of mine, landscape architect Will Griffin.

There remains a wonderful oral history of Ed, thanks to the efforts of Atlanta landscape architect Spencer Tunnell and the nonprofit Cultural Landscape Foundation; you can find it posted at the CLF website, here:

http://tclf.org/pioneers/oral_history.htm

or, here:

http://tclf.org/pioneers/profiles/daugherty/videos/index.html

Happy Birthday, Abba! We love you, sir.

Editorial: State shouldn't pursue Tennessee River 'option' | Opinion | OnlineAthens.com

Editorial: State shouldn't pursue Tennessee River 'option' | Opinion | OnlineAthens.com

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Thanks, Banner-Herald, for a great editorial!

Favorite Fiddle Tunes - the short list

Favorite Fiddle Tunes

This list was sparked by a question yesterday, from Marcy Marxer, whose music makes me smile. I'm sure my list will change based upon getting my fiddle re-haired a.s.a.p., and in tune, for Summer... I'd love to see (and hear!) someone else's list, and beg your pardon if this is a bother. Let's play tunes, y'all.

In no particular order, then:

1. Big Sciota
2. Elzic's Farewell
3. Billy in the Lowground
4. Leather Britches
5. Liberty (off A Corn Liquor Still in Georgia, a 78 rpm record by The Skillet Likkers)
6. Valse de Balfa (Balfa Waltz)
   
7. Hell Amongst the Yearlings

Postscript: If I could remember the B part, I'd include a tune in the key of C, heard once, in the late 1980s, at the old Raymond home on Jonas Avenue, Athens, after one North Georgia Folk Festival: "Rattlesnake Bit the Baby."
That was the session I met both Mik Kinney and Joe Nelson for the first time, fiddling on opposite sides of a session in one front room... with other music going on in three or four other rooms, at the same time.
Joe Willey mentioned he had cassettes of other sessions in the house with Rob & Mary (of Wahoo Lulu & the Alabama Goober Grabbers). I've got mental memories of those evenings.
In my sound memory, everyone shouted out on the high part of this tune, "Rattlesnake bit the baby..." three times. Where'd that come from?

Thanks, Murray

It's nice when one of our customers shares the enthusiasm for the Carlos Museum Bookshop, as author Murray Browne, in his blog for Valentine's Day, did.

Be on the lookout for his forthcoming "The Book Shopper: A Life in Review to be published by Paul Dry Books of Philadelphia in Spring of 2009." I'm quoting his site...

It seems our shop has something fortunate to do with his publication. He'd best tell that one.