My Chauffeur Hat - Seedtime of the Cumberland Festival

The subject line on Dave's email read "possible driving gig". It was an opportunity to pick up John McCutcheon at CVG and drive him to the Seedtime Festival on the Cumberland in Whitesburg, Kentucky. I called Chandra to see if she could find another sitter for Saturday and then contacted John and made arrangements to take him to Eastern Kentucky.

I picked him up at the airport about 7:30 p.m. and our first stop was for Cincinnati chili. Seems that John had lived in Cincinnati in the past and had frequented Acropolis Chili in Clifton. We found a nearby Skyline and his 5-way craving was satiated. We chatted about a little of everything in between calls John made and received while riding. Traveling musician is a busy life for sure.

We headed south then east but unfortunately I missed the turn to the Bert Combs Parkway and we headed a bit too far east. By the time we figured it out we had gone 30 miles too far. With a map (since John's GPS wasn't locating our position) we took a local road down to Route 15 and only lost about a true half hour on our time. John was very pleasant company and when we came into Perry County he told me about the cities he had visited and the people he had met through the years.

It was dark as we drove but I could tell that we were surrounded but some pretty big hills. Yes, I know that in Kentucky they are considered mountains but you must remember that I lived in the Rockies for four years and its all relative.

We reached Whitesburg about 12:15 a.m. and settled into the local Super 8 Motel. The lobby and halls were covered with framed posters of past Seedtime Festival on the Cumberland. It was hard to sleep so I watched some TV, drank some wine and finally slept for about 5-6 hours. I woke up early, had breakfast from the continental bar in the motel's lobby then waited to hear from John. He called, we drove to the festival, and unloaded.

John knew everyone and spent the day either performing or visiting with old friends. I stayed out of his way and just sat and listened to the wonderful voices and instruments that were everywhere in the festival. I bought some crafts, ate from the local trailer/food wagon and even napped under a tree. In the late morning I attended a shape note singing workshop. I sat with the melody group (can't remember the proper name) and John McCutcheon sat with and boasted the bass group. It was hard to follow but when the four groups sang it gave me chills! What lovely sounds. The professor conducting the workshop promised it got better as more get-togethers and encouraged us all to find local shape note groups.

During the day I met some very nice folks from the local area. Each conversation started with someone telling me"I like your skirt!". I( was wearing one of my long, broomstick skirts.) One of the ladies I met had the prettiest painted toenails I had ever seen so we started our conversation with fashion and proceeded to "Are you from around here?" That was always the second thing folks said to me when we started chatting. I guess my lack of accent gave me away. Maria, a sweet lady I met in the early afternoon, became my companion off and on during the day. She told me her name but when I told her mine she tried to repeat it three times before saying , "I can't pronounce that but I'll keep it in my mind". When ever I wandered near she would say, "I have a seat saved, come sit down a bit". I could not resist. Both ladies were darling company and when they learned where I hailed from, they started informing me that they could never live somewhere flat. Each related how a relative had moved up to Ohio and Indiana and couldn't wait to get back. "The hills feel like they protect us" the first lady with the lovely toes told me. I had to admit I felt a bit closed in but she said that was what she loved about eastern Kentucky. "Folks think we are stupid down here" she said sadly. I told her that when I moved to Idaho folks there asked if we people from Kentucky wore shoes. She shook her head and said that she hears that alot. When I told her that I was from Northern Kentucky she politely told me that that was more like being in Ohio. I had to admit that after being there I had to agree just a bit. I am proud of my Kentucky roots but I knew that living in those mountains held a special magic.

It learned quickly that John McCutcheon was there for a reason and not just as a headliner. As a college student he discovered old time mountain music at the school library and in his junior year he spent a summer in Fletcher and Perry Counties and met many wonderful Kentucky musicians. A film starring him and I.D. Stamper, a builder and player of mountain dulcimers. I was quite impressed to learn so much more about John and how long he's been playing and supporting Appalachia music. He had recorded at Appalshop and was pleased to be back.

The most profound thing I noticed during the day was the absence of typical "civilized" background noise. There was no traffic, no airplanes, no trains...nothing but fiddles and banjos, guitars and basses and the strains of a lovely voice singing haunting mountain ballads. The magic was rubbing off.

The festival itself was small but the music was mighty. All around the grounds you could sit on a bale of hay and listen to musicians of very age. I can't say every skill level because not one of the folks I heard could be called anything but excellent.

John played guitar, banjo, autoharp and hammer dulcimer. My new friend, Maria, said "That fella's pretty good!" After John's performance we packed the car and prepared to hit the road. While we packed, the festival grounds were cleared as much as possible with a few of the vendor tents removed and all of the chairs packed away. Local musicians took the stage and a square dance began. John said he would have loved to stay and join the musicians but he had an early flight and had to be back to CVG as soon as possible.

We drove through the dark once more and said our goodbyes. It was a lovely event and John was a fine GOH companion.