Read no. 6

Greetings!

I'm writing this on my daughter's 18th birthday! Me, with an 18-year-old daughter. How did that happen? This time 18 years ago I was on my way to the hospital in the front of a pick-up truck with an Agatha Christie paperback tucked into my bag. Ha! Like I was going to be doing a lot of reading! My life was never the same. I want us to talk about having kids and playing music but not here on the front page! I'm going to squeeze in a little story about my experiences and I want you to write me a letter telling me about yours. Nothing fancy, just tell me about it. And, with your permission, I’ll print some of those letters. These stories need to be told.

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Interview with Gloria Belle

For many of us Wibbers in the Southeast, Gloria Belle was one of the few women we ever saw on stage back in the old days. And she was certainly the highest up on the professional ladder. After all, she played with Jimmy Martin. (As a reminder of this, she was the only woman on stage when Jimmy Martin's former band members saluted his

election into the IBMA Hall of Honor this past year.) Bluegrass Unlimited record reviewer Walt Saunders says, "Gloria Belle was the first woman I ever saw singing lead in a bluegrass band." (BU, Feb. 1979) And that was in 1957. But, other than the fact that she played and recorded with Jimmy Martin, I didn't know much about her. I did know that she now has her own band, Gloria Belle and Tennessee Sunshine. These two things are just the tip of the iceberg. Gloria, as she calls herself, determined at a young age that she wanted to play music for a living, and then she made certain that it would happen. From the Cas Walker Show in Knoxville to a season on the road with Charlie Monroe, Gloria has made playing music her life. When one job petered out, she found another.

I feel extremely fortunate that we were able to hook up for an interview at Owensboro this year. We sat in the front of my van and sweated and talked and laughed for a couple of hours. I wish I had space to print the whole thing. (Maybe when I do my book...) We quit only because we had to join 71 other women on stage for the World's Largest All-Female Jam! It was a real honor to play alongside Gloria. Like the bluegrass trouper that she is, she jumps in and sings any part, plays the mandolin in any key, and always seems to be having a good time.

When I was first gathering information for my database, I looked through old issues of Bluegrass Unlimited to collect women's names. While in the Record Review section of the June 1967 BU. I came across a review of a Gloria Belle single. It was being reviewed in conjunction with another woman's single and it started thusly: "Both records feature girl singers with bluegrass bands." Gloria then takes a hit because she has "a voice that's not really suitable for bluegrass." I print this to show you what women in bluegrass were up against back then. Gloria has a great bluegrass voice. She sings in the tradition of Molly O'Day, Wilma Lee Cooper, and one of my favorites, Margie Sullivan. What she didn't sound like was "one of the boys." And that's what everyone was used to. Thank goodness, we've moved past that now. We've got Alison, we've got Lynn, we've got Laurie, we've got Claire Lynch, Suzanne and Evelyn Cox, and Rhonda Vincent. What we mustn't forget is that it was women like Gloria Belle who helped pave the way.

—Murphy Henry

Ratifications

By Casey Henry

It was a school night, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sleep through English just one time. We were supposed to leave at 5:30. I arrived home from school at 4:45, which left me zero time to do my calculus. Looked like I was going to be eating lunch in the library yet again.

My mom, my brother, and I left for the Birchmere, at 5:42, and got there close to two hours later. We, and a couple hundred other people, were there for Rounder Record’s 25th Anniversary Tour featuring the Del McCoury Band, my absolute favorite band in the whole wide world, Laurie Lewis and Grant Street, and the greatest banjo player in the world, second only to Earl Scruggs, J.D. Crowe and the New South.

Del McCoury opened the show with a fast and furious banjo tune and then eased back into a soulful blues number. I thought, “This is why I was put here on this earth; this is what I must do with my life: play the music.” If I were ever away from it, I don’t know what I would do. It would be like living in a tin can. Their show continued with hard-core traditional bluegrass, each song more intense than the last. Del’s son, Ronnie, sang one of the most touching songs I’ve ever heard about a lady who had been like a second mother to him, and who had died recently. Even though the words are not the most eloquent and the lines don’t scan quite right, he sings with such raw emotion that I could easily see how much it hurt him to see her go. At the end of Del’s set, the band got an encore and I was ecstatic because I could have watched them for another two or three hours. We eventually let them go and they gave up the stage to Laurie Lewis. The difference between Del and Laurie is like the difference between corn pone and white bread. Her smooth California sounds were refreshing to listen to. She breezed through her set with the utmost professionalism, and the show moved on to the last band of the night.

J.D. Crowe is THE most incredible banjo player that I have ever seen. About halfway through his set, the band came to one of the simplest, most traditional songs in the bluegrass world, “Long Journey Home.” Most banjo players, because it is such a simple song, take the opportunity to show off all of their hot licks, distorting the tune so that it is almost unrecognizable. I thought, being the supreme banjo player that he is, J.D. would at least play it really fast and put a lot of notes in. He kicked it off, and as I peeled myself off the back wall, I realized that this is the exact reason he is as great as he is: he is very frugal and always knows the right thing to play. In new modem songs, he plays new modem licks; in traditional songs, he plays traditional licks. He makes it obvious that everything in the music complements everything else, or it shouldn’t be there. For his encore, he played his signature instrumental, “Train 45.” My heart leapt to my throat as I fathomed that I was actually going to hear the master play this famous

song. I have pored over the recording for hours, trying to get every little note exactly, and now he was about to play it and I was watching.

He started in, straight ahead and driving, playing basically what was on the record. Then he went suddenly into outer space. I floundered to catch up, trying to understand what he was doing. Complex chords and weird rhythms flew out of his fingers. I gave up trying to retain any of it for later use and just enjoyed it, shaking in my seat with excitement. He ended, the band left the stage, and I thought, “I have just had the most incredible experience of my life. Wow.”

As we were walking out the door to our car, J.D. Crowe himself was standing there. I suddenly found out that my mom knew him, and before I had a chance to think of anything intelligent to say, she introduced me. She told him that I played the banjo and that my brother played the mandolin. J.D. said, “You’re raisin’ ’em right.” Delighted, I walked back to the car with a rosy glow, planning to cherish the memory forever and concluding that this has been the single greatest day of my life. Until a new single greatest day of my life comes along.

WIBbits

Ah, Murphy,

I'm finally sitting down to write...I tried to write an article on babysitting, but realized I didn’t have enough to say. Mark and I more or less gave up on trying to play together when Brian (about 2) started crying when he saw us touch an instrument case. We took turns with our playing when the kids were real young. (That’s when I did a year’s fling-about 3 years after Brian’s crying ordeal-with Cherokee Rose. Mark was Mr. Mom, mostly on weekends.) After Cherokee Rose, neither of us pursued music very seriously, as far as having to travel and be away from home a lot...

—Sally Wingate, banjo player, Winston-Salem, NC

From the questionnaire: Any feelings about being the only girl in the jam? Like I had 3 eyes on each of my 2 heads, and like I accidentally showed up wearing only my underwear.

—N.M., Cincinnati, OH

Women in Bluegrass is a quarterly publication. Editor, Publisher, and HWICC, Murphy Henry. Layout and Computer Consultant, Red Henry. Address all correspondence to: Women in Bluegrass, POB 2498, Winchester, VA 22604.

Spotlight on… Gloria Belle

“My goal is to make a living playing music."

This interview took place at FanFest in Owensboro, Ky., September 24, 1995. Gloria: I started with Jimmy in 1969, March, to be exact.

Murphy: What instruments did you play? This is funny.

G: [Laughing.] Yes, it is funny. Most people’d be surprised to hear the first thing I played with him was the snare drum. Well, actually, I did play a little bit of mandolin on a few shows before ’69—he had some contracts that specifically required a girl singer on the shows. So I was living in Pennsylvania at the time and most of these shows were up north. So he would just stop on his way and pick me up. And so that’s how I started playing with him part-time.

M: But when you were the girl singer did you always play an instrument?

G: At that time I played mandolin. I always played either mandolin or guitar when I sang. This would have been around ’67 and ’68, and then in ’69 he said if I would move to Nashville, he would give me a full-time job in the band. So that’s when I played snare drum with him.

M: You must have really wanted to play. It must have been in your blood. G: Yes, it was. I started singing about the age of three. I was on a church radio program with my mother and dad. My mother played guitar and piano. I used to stand on a chair to reach the microphone. [Laughs.] So, singing was my first love. And then my parents had a mandolin around the house and my mother really had an interest in learning mandolin but, of course, she was busy with the family and working outside, too. She didn’t learn to play guitar until in her twenties, after I was born. She couldn’t afford to buy one before. But, she had this mandolin around. So I did take an interest in it and they gave me a few lessons and then after I got a start then it was a man that taught me to play by ear...Of course, my parents listened to the Grand Ole Opry. I heard Uncle

Dave Macon and they had Carter Family records around...So that was really a big influence to what I wanted to do and wanted to play. I started hearing the Bailey Brothers on the Wheeling Jamboree and right then was when I decided that’s what I wanna do. I wanna play music. For a living.

M: Were you ever around any other young girls that were playing? Even today it's kind of unusual for a young girl to say that's what I wanna do: play music. You just were born to play, Gloria.

G: [Laughs.] I guess so. There weren’t many girls around then. Now, the Bailey Brothers did have a girl singer with them called Miss Evelyn. That was probably another influence to me. At the same time, I also heard Wilma Lee Cooper and Molly O’Day records. I didn’t get to hear Molly O’Day in person at an early age because she went out of the business while I was still in school. In 1949 was when she quit playing professionally. M: And you were living in Pennsylvania at the time?

G: I was. My parents would take vacations and I’d say, “Oh, let’s go to Tennessee where I can hear the Bailey Brothers!” ’Cause I heard the Bailey Brothers had left the Wheeling Jamboree and went to Knoxville, Tennessee.

M: Were they on the Cas Walker Show?

G: One of them was. They had split up. It was just Danny Bailey on the Cas Walker Show. So my mother played guitar with me and we did a guest spot. In fact, I think she even sang with me.

M: So it was you and your mother. Not your dad.

G: Yeah. Now he played harmonica but he really played more just for his own enjoyment...But my mom liked it a lot.

M: And about how old were you then?

G: I was working my first day job at a potato chip company, [laughs] in Hanover, Pennsylvania. And my mother recalls that many times I used to say, “This is not what I want to do. I wanna play music!” Anyway, [our guest spot] was pretty well liked. Of course, I knew Danny Bailey so he was the one I talked to. I said, “Do you think there’s any possibility that I could get a job here?” And he said, “I’ll talk to Mr. Walker for you.”

And Mr. Walker said, “We have all the musicians we need right now.” But Danny told me, “If there’s ever an opening, I’ll get in touch with you.” So, I went back home to the potato chip factory and I was a little discouraged. I thought they probably won’t call me. Well, to my surprise, approximately six months later, I got a letter from Danny saying Mr. Walker had let a whole bunch of the musicians go. Danny said, “We need you badly. You can go to work immediately.” So I gave a notice at my job—I said I won’t leave there without giving a notice. Now, there was still in the back of my mind and deep in my heart, I wanted to meet Molly O’Day. I thought if I go to work full time, then I won’t have time to go visit her. So I allowed myself time to go visit her in Huntington, West Virginia. That was the thrill of a lifetime to me, that I got to meet Molly O’Day. M: Did you just call her up and say I wanna go see you?

G: Well, no, I didn’t know her phone number. I got her address and went right to her door. And she thought she knew me. This was the strangest thing to me. I never saw her before in my life. She never saw me. She was on a second floor apartment. I had to knock on a door down at the bottom of the steps and when she looked at me, she said, “Well, hello there, just come on up!” She thought I looked like somebody from the church where she went to. [Laughs.] But she was just thrilled as I was because she said she thought everybody had forgotten about her. I said, “No, no way. You haven’t been forgotten.” And she was so surprised that I was still singing her songs. And I said, “You won’t be forgotten because your songs will live on. And I love to sing ’em and I’ll be singing ’em.” So, we became very good friends after that.

M: So then, after you visited Molly, you went down and joined the Cas Walker Show. G: Yes, Mr. Walker wanted me to do a duet with Danny Bailey and I knew a lot of the Bailey Brothers songs. They were my idols. They really were a big inspiration to me to get into the music business. So we had to change keys. Danny always laughed, it seemed funny to him. He was a tenor singer with his brother Charles. Then when he and I did the same songs, I sang tenor to Danny. He’d take the lead. We did a lot of songs like “Sweetest Gift A Mother’s Smile,” “What A Change One Day Can Make.” M: So how long did you do that?

G: That was about five years the first time.

M: Did you have to take a day job in addition to that?

G: No, we were too busy. We did five radio shows daily, in person, live, and when I started there we did three live television shows.

M: Now when you were playing with Danny were you playing either the guitar or the mandolin?

G: I played mandolin and banjo with him.

M: And you did leads on the mandolin?

G: I did. And I was featured on solos some, too. Like I would do “Banjo Picking Girl.” From Molly O’Day’s recommendation.

M: Did you do the clawhammer style?

G: No. [Emphatically.] I played the three-finger style. The Scruggs style. I never learned the clawhammer style. Some of my most requested songs was the “Banjo Picking Girl,” and I did “Slewfoot” on the banjo and “Little Birdie.”

M: Then after that what happened? Were you still single?

G: Oh, yes. After about five years, Mr. Walker started cutting back on his talent because he was using taped music. And he let about four of us go at one time. So Bonnie Lou and Buster had a weekly TV show that was shown in Knoxville at that same time. So I learned to know them and I went to them after this layoff and I said, “Could you recommend a place for me to go from here for a music job? I want to stay in music if possible.” And they said, “Yeah, we’ll recommend you to a show at Ghost Town in Maggie Valley, North Carolina.” Panhandle Pete and His One-Man Band—he had a show up on Ghost Mountain. So, I went to Ghost Town and I played there just for the one season. [Summer of 1965.]

M: And what was your instrument there?

G: They billed me as the Banjo Picking Girl.

M: How did your parents feel about you going off and doing all this stuff? Did you have other brothers and sisters?

G: No, I’m an only child.

M: Were they a little nervous even back when you left Pennsylvania to go to Knoxville? G: I know they kinda hated to see me go. I didn’t even have a driver's license when I went down there. They took me down. My mother said when they had to leave me there and go 550 miles back to Pennsylvania that was the hardest thing she ever had to do. And my dad told me, “If that’s what you want to do, try it and you can always come back home.” My parents were always very supportive.

M: Okay, so you'd finished up a season in Ghost Town as the Banjo Picking Girl so what came next?

G: Well, I ran into the McCormick Brothers. They were having this old-time square dance at Gallatin [Tennessee], so I played a few times with them there. They also had a few road shows. And that was very brief. [Fall of 1965.]

M: What were you playing with them?

G: Mainly just guitar because I was featured as a girl vocalist. Of course, I played a little bit of old-time lead guitar like Mother Maybelle.

M: Do you use a flat-pick or a thumb-pick?

G: A flat-pick. Like “Gathering Flowers From the Hillside” and “I Ain’t Gonna Work Tomorrow.”

M: Did you ever have any other women come up to you and ask about being in the business?

G: Well, at that particular time I don’t remember girls saying too much to me. A time I do remember girls coming up and saying this, was when I was with Betty Amos and her all-girl band. That was later. Spring of ’66 was when I went with Betty Amos. M: And how did you meet? Where was she from?

G: From near Roanoke [Virginia.] She found out about me but I don’t know how. She needed a bass player. See I'd learned to play electric bass while I was at the Cas Walker show. And she wanted electric bass with her because she did mostly country and not much bluegrass.

M: Now you mentioned at breakfast that it was sometimes easier to play in the ‘‘boy bands" than it was the "girl bands” because sometimes the girls got a little jealous. Is that appropriate to talk about now?

G: Probably so because Betty’s band—I played with other all-girl bands—was the first band where I experienced that. Girls have a tendency to feel competitive with each other where boys don’t feel that way [about women]. They’re not competing with a woman. Like the woman just adds to the show, she’s totally different, so the boys do their thing and she does her thing. The majority of men don’t feel threatened by a woman because they figure a woman can’t play my instrument or can’t play it as well as I do anyway. And in a lot of cases it is true.

M: So there was some of this jealousy in this band.

G: Well, this was my first experience of what I call the competitive attitude with working in an all-girl band. I call it professional jealousy also. [Gloria then told the story of riding to her first gig, the Wheeling Jamboree, with Betty Amos. Gloria had understood earlier from Betty that it would be okay for Gloria to sell her own pictures along with her two singles at their shows. She had always done this with the other bands she was with. Now, as they were riding to the gig, Betty accused Gloria of wanting to be the star of the show. Gloria said, “Betty, that’s not my goal in life. My goal is to make a living playing music.”]

M: How long did you work with her?

G: I worked with her for a year...We didn’t exactly end as friends but later she was glad to see me. Just before I quit we did a show at a theater up in northern Pennsylvania and a boy came up and asked for a picture of me. [Betty had stopped Gloria from selling her pictures when Betty had a band picture made.] So this fellow said, “Do you have any pictures of yourself?” And I said, “Yes, I do.” So Betty heard me. And she said, “Gloria, you don’t have any pictures.” And I said, “Yes, I do.” So I told this fellow, “Just follow me out to the car, my pictures are in the trunk of the car.” And I sold him a picture. [Betty fired her over this. Gloria told her, "That’s the best thing you ever said to me.” Betty later that night asked Gloria to stay but Gloria had already bought herself a bus ticket.] M: Is this the time you started playing with Jimmy?

G: Well, not quite. This was spring of ’67. I did start to work on my first album. I had the opportunity to get Red Smiley’s band to help me finish it. Which was at that time John Palmer on the bass, Billy Edwards on the banjo, and Tater Tate on the fiddle. They were

playing close by and I asked them, “After you finish the show with Red Smiley could you come help me finish my album?” They said, “Sure.” Billy Edwards and I played twin banjos on one song, “Remember Me.”

M: So now you had an album out and no band?

G: [Laughs in agreement.] So, this was during the summer of ’67 we did that project. In the meantime I did form a band, too. My first band was called the Green Mountain Travelers. It was a ready-made band, which their leader wanted to quit. They were called the Bluegrass Travelers from Frederick, Maryland. And the guys wanted to keep on playing. So, I don’t know how I met one of them but he said, “Would you be our leader? We’re looking for a band leader.”

M: And they looked to you, a woman.

G: Yes! That’s right. I couldn’t believe it. I said, “I’m not a band leader.” “Yeah, you can do it.” [Laughs.] So I did. We didn’t play very far, because they had daytime jobs. We just played in Pennsylvania and Maryland and played mostly at fireman’s carnivals. And they were paying very good money at that time. So we practiced one whole winter [1967] and then I booked the dates for the next summer [1968].

M: And what was your instrument in this band?

G: I played banjo and mandolin. I’d change off. I had a fiddle player, bass player, and guitar player.

M: And were you also the lead singer? The tenor singer?

G: We did different things. Because I had good singers in that group that could change off. Like maybe I would sing tenor with them on some numbers and then they could sing harmony under me if I sang high lead.

M: So how long did y'all play together?

G: That was kinda short-lived too. I think I made a mistake there in paying them equal split. I didn’t take more because I was the leader or because I did the booking. So two of the wives started to interfere and said they thought their husbands should have more money. Well I said, “I’m sorry I don’t see how I can pay them more money than what I’m getting myself when I’m doing the booking, too.” And so they said, “They [the husbands]

are gonna quit.” So I said, “They’ll just have to quit.” So I just found someone else to replace them and finished out the shows.

M: But then you didn’t keep the band together after that?

G: No, I didn’t. That was ’68. That was when I started playing these shows with Jimmy when the contracts called for a girl singer.

M: Okay, now we’re back to the first part that we started with. [G: Laughs.] You played snare drum the first year and sang. [G: Right.] Did you do either tenor or baritone singing or were you being the featured singer?

G: No, he started teaching me the high baritone. Which I had sung the high baritone with my parents when I was young. So I knew where high baritone was. But his was in a higher key than what I was used to singing.

M: And you did a lot of recording with Jimmy.

G: Yes, I did. In fact in 1969, I wasn’t there too long till they scheduled a recording session and the first song I recorded with him was “Milwaukee Here I Come.” M: Now, were you playing the snare drum on that?

G: No, I didn’t play anything. When we recorded he would hire some studio musicians or sometimes, especially when I was on bass, he would hire another bass player. M: He wanted you to concentrate on the singing.

G: Yeah, he wanted me to concentrate on the singing.

M: At breakfast you said the guys in Jimmy’s band always treated you with respect. That this was never a problem. What created that?

G: Well, I think it’s kinda like my husband said to you this morning, it’s kinda how you carry yourself. Anyone, usually, is very observing of how you conduct yourself. They can kind of read you, so to speak. And another thing, Jimmy had his children along a lot of the time. I heard Jimmy say at one point, “I don’t want to hear any foul language or dirty jokes out of you boys in front of my children.” So it was pretty well understood. They respected the children and me, too.

M: Is it a fair question: did you marry during this time?

G: No-No. No.

M: Was that so you could just keep on playing music, thinking maybe if you had a husband you would be divided?

G: Well, I dated different ones through that time. I felt like I led a very normal dating life. But I was being very cautious, I guess, without even being aware of it myself. I knew that my first love was playing music. And I knew I needed to be careful that I didn’t get too involved with someone that didn’t play music. I did date a lot of different musicians from time to time. Well, a lot of them weren’t marriage material, either. You know what I mean. They weren’t stable enough, basically. So it’s hard to find the combination of both. Someone that plays music and would also be a stable, secure, thinking person. And I just knew I wasn’t ready to marry if there was someone who would keep me from playing music. I always said when I get married it’ll have to be somebody that can go with me and play music. I don’t want to stop playing music when I get married and it won’t work for me to go out on the road and play music and him sit at home. Because he’ll be imagining things even if there is nothing bad happening.

M: That’s awful smart thinking for the young person you were at the time. G: I did see many times where a husband would cause a wife to quit playing or vice versa. Usually it’s the other way around. There were more men that played music and the wife would cause ’em to stop. She said, “Well, you’re away from home too much, I need you home to raise the children.” Or whatever. And that was the end of their playing music.

M: Now, Jimmy Martin wasn't the last thing you did in your musical career so let’s get on beyond Jimmy.

G: Charlie Monroe was next.

M: And what did you play with him?

G: I played banjo and mandolin. And a few times I would play guitar on some of my solo numbers that he wasn’t real familiar with. And I did tenor singing.

M: So how long did you work with him?

G: That was also only one festival season.

M: Were y’all just working as a duo?

G: Yes. Occasionally if we played at festivals where Jimmy’s band was, Jimmy’s band would back us up. [Laughs.]

M: And then what?

G: Went back to Jimmy Martin again. [Cackles laughing.] But, I must tell you something interesting. Jimmie and Charlie were good friends. So Charlie said to Jimmy, “Now, Jimmy, you need to treat this little girl right. She’s a good singer and a good trouper on the road. You treat her right so she’ll stay with you. I know how you are Jimmy, you’ll fool around and mistreat her until she’ll leave you and you won’t have that girl singer anymore.” And that’s what happened. [Laughs.] I did come back a few times after I left Jimmy. I’d quit and he’d say, “If you’re not doing anything, why don’t you just ride along with us to this show...” Of course, that was his sneaky way of getting me back. Because I was between jobs and why not make a little something rather than nothing? And there for a while he thought I’d always come back even though I left. But he asked me several times to come back but I didn’t.

M: So what was next?

G: I stayed with Jimmy off and on till ’78. In the meantime he did help me record part of an album, “Good Hearted Woman.” He’s singing with me on one song, “Just Over the Stars.” But then in early January ’78 was the last I recorded with Jimmy. He was recording on Gusto. I did the high baritone on things like “White Dove,” “Uncle Pen,” a recut of “Widow Maker,” and several others. I worked with him till about June of that year. In the meantime I kinda wanted to go back to the Cas Walker Show. After being on the road that much, I was ready for some “sit down” jobs. So in 1980 I went back to Cas Walker and asked, “Could you use me on your show?” And he said, “Well, I have a pretty full cast of musicians now, but I always liked your and Dan Bailey’s singing. We’ll give you a try.” So he hired me again back in 1980. And then I played on the show and I was doing a lot of other things. At this time Bonnie Lou and Buster had a show in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. This was very close to Knoxville so when their banjo picker wanted to take off, I'd take his place. I was a fill-in banjo picker. Well, Jack Grooms was another band leader in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. He had a tourist spot up there for bluegrass, and they played seven nights a week. So his bass player needed some time off. So when his bass player took off, I filled in for him. [Laughs.] [She also worked as a singer and guitar player in a band that played “good paying convention jobs” in the

area.] Then when the World’s Fair came along in 1982, I started working there along with all these others! I played on the World’s Fair with the Bailey Brothers. They had a Women’s Week on the World’s Fair that I played, too. And I was still doing the Cas Walker Show. This time we would tape twice a week, then we didn’t have to go every day. So, needless to say that was about one of the busiest years of my life, 1982. M: You were certainly getting your wish about making a living playing music! G: I was enjoying myself tremendously, doing exactly what I wanted to do. At one point I guess I thought I was going to stay in the Smoky Mountains forever. But I did change my mind. I don’t like the winters. I’m probably getting ahead of myself here. You want to know everybody I played with. After Charlie Monroe. this would have been ’73, I worked with a second all-girl band, the Nashville Kitty Cats.

They were based out of Richmond, Virginia. They needed me to fill in for a bass player who couldn’t make it. I knew they were a country dance band, they weren’t bluegrass at all. And I said, “If I go with your band will you let me play some bluegrass?" “Yeah, we like bluegrass music. We just none of us play the right instruments to play it." I said, “Well, I could do the real simple songs like ‘Old Slewfoot,’ and ‘Banjo Picking Girl,’ or ’Rocky Top,’ and ‘Foggy Mountain Breakdown. ' Songs that everybody knows.” M: And you were gonna get the banjo out for those?

G: Yes. So they were very good girls to work with. They featured me on about 15 minutes of bluegrass on every one of their shows. I played in Knoxville until the Cas Walker Show ended in April of ’83. It went off the air. Then in ’84 I first went to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and [that was] the beginning of Foxfire, the third all-girl band I played in. We just played a few dates down there in Florida. Just local things. I left in May and came back up to Pennsylvania to my parents’ home. This was ’84 and ’85. What I didn’t realize, I got away from the festivals all this time. So now I got back in touch with Mike [Long]. We had played bluegrass before and I found out he was divorced [laughs] so I called him and he came up to visit me at my parents’ home, and we started playing music together again. And we also started dating then. That’s the first we ever dated.

M: You say “music together again.” So Mike was in one of these other bands? G: No, he was not in a band. We would play for fun at places like Station Inn and Bluegrass Inn. Jam sessions is how I learned to know Mike in the beginning. Then he was available for guitar when I showcased my “Good Hearted Woman” album on the

Carl Tipton Show in ’78. He was the best guitar player that was available. That’s why I called on him even though he was working for the city of Nashville then. He was not a professional musician but he was in the league with professional musicians. He knew what to do. So, he played guitar with me. We started dating around ’86. And we always enjoyed singing duets together. So we were picking now and then wherever we could. And this was about ’87, ’88. In ’89 we got married. [Laughs.]

M: So you finally found somebody who would play music with you and was steady and stable.

G: I could see he was serious about playing music. And he wouldn’t stop me from playing music. So we formed a band in 1990. Gloria Belle and Tennessee Sunshine. M: What's amazing to me is how many bands you’ve played with. If this job didn’t work out, you went to another band. You just were determined to keep playing music. G: Yeah. Right. And I think what helped me, you were talking about how the guys respected me, I didn’t try to be a sex symbol. They knew I just wanted to play music. M: Of course, you were so talented. You were a player. You were a singer and you were a trouper.

G: That’s right. That’s one of the reasons I think I did receive that compliment many times, that I was a good trouper is because I didn’t complain. Like one time, I can remember, the guys stopped along the road to use the bathroom. [Laughs.] I said, “Thanks a lot guys! That don’t help me at all!” They just laughed. But they stopped for me then somewhere at a restroom.

M: Well, I could talk for another couple of hours but your mentioning going to the bathroom makes me realize I gotta go before we get on stage.

On that slightly risqué note, with apologies to all who think things like that shouldn’t be mentioned in public (you know who you are), we ended our interview and joined the world’s largest all-female jam.

Studio Salon

By Nancy Pate

The band I play with, Born G____, has just finished work on a new demo, hopefully to become part of our first release sometime next year. Recording is always a thrilling experience for me. Here in Atlanta we record with Dede Vogt, whose studio, Sound and Fury, is located in one of the early suburbs of Atlanta, from the era when the cable cars ran, meaning it is now considered inner city.

Dede engineers the recording session with a candy dish at her left hand. On her right, the control board is presided over by a miniature Barbie from a McDonald’s Happy Meal. The doll is dressed in retro cowgirl garb, a reminder of Dede’s latest musical adventure, the band Cowboy Envy: three women who play only cowboy (and cowgirl) songs—a fun act to catch. The board itself is a 16-track Soundcraft Spirit. A Tascam MSR-16S records 16 channels on analog half-inch tape. Dolby S noise reduction is the reason it sounds so good; you don’t have to mess a lot with the equalization, so the sound is very natural. Various microphones are on tap. On our recording, my guitar is miked through a Neumann 170 and my vocals come through an Equitek 200.

Years ago, Dede played with a hot all-women rock band called the Scallion Sisters. She was one of my earliest musical heroines, playing bass with attitude, and during my college years my sisters and I would try to catch the Scallions’ act whenever we could. Her musical appreciation ranges wide, however, and later she played bass in a bluegrass band led by Louisa Branscomb, an early incarnation of our current band. Since that time Dede’s production career has really taken off, and there’s a big demand for her studio time by regional acts that cover the musical spectrum. Her special fondness for singer/songwriters is evident on her trophy wall, only natural since she’s a respected songwriter herself, often appearing as a single act on the Atlanta club scene. The atmosphere in the studio is very relaxed. I sing into a mike staring at a black and white poster of Elvis and his pelvis, a tiny plastic cowboy on his horse bucking away on the table behind me. After I put down my part and have that rubber-in-my-bones feeling of inertia, I don’t hesitate to stretch out on the floor to listen to a playback. If I’m waiting on a fellow band member doing endless takes, I can step into the kitchen and play with the refrigerator magnets, the first set I ever saw of those tiny words you can move around to create witty remarks or the next greatest song hook. Stimulating conversation is also on tap; over the course of our last two recording sessions, the lunch and dinner breaks found us discussing the ethics of infertility treatment, the latest double murder, schools of theology, a new Joan Armatrading song that Dede was high on, and manicures—good female bonding stuff.

Actually the manicure conversation didn’t occur on break. It was in the control room. We must have been working on the third or fourth cut, because we were all a little punchy.

Jane Baxter, our bass player, and I were brainstorming ways we could pass the time while we waited for our next turn at the mike. Jane suggested balancing master tapes on our heads to improve posture a la the Sound and Fury Studio and Charm School. Someone mentioned how hard it is to find time to get a haircut; Dede could add a stylist and become the Sound and Fury Studios of Styles. Personally I have always wondered what it’s like to have a professional manicure, and thought that would be the least distracting activity to engage in while listening to endless playbacks; the Sound and Fury Studio Salon seemed to say it all. Of course, these musings were hilarious at the time, and I’m afraid even the engineer was momentarily distracted from listening to the eleventy-fifth mandolin take.

So, if you’re traveling in the Southeast and get the urge to lay down some tracks for a bona fide bluegrass hit, look up the Sound and Fury Studio Salon. Dede may even have the name up in neon lights by then. And by the way, you can play with the Barbie and the magnets and the other toys while you wait. It’s allowed.

Personal Horror File: Babysitting Stories

Let's see. Without getting too maudlin, which story shall I tell? The time we played a weekend gig out of town and came back and paid the babysitter more than Red and I collectively made? The time we came back to find our children had contracted head lice? (The sight of a louse crawling out of my daughter's hair is a horror I will never forget.) The time Casey, age 6, started sobbing when I told we would be leaving her and Chris, 3, with a Cracker woman who lived on a dirt road in an old house trailer with her red-neck teenaged sons? Frantically, I made other arrangements.

Taking my kids to festivals has always been the most exhausting, brain-numbing experience I have ever endured. (Am I the only one who feels this way?) Take the fire ant episode. Casey was less than two, walking but still in diapers, when we played a festival in Arcadia, Fla. Why we took her I don't know. We were paying a friend to look after her there. When we got off the stage Saturday we were handed a note: "They have taken your baby to the hospital." ARRGH! We piled into the van and rushed to the hospital only to be told that they had not admitted any babies recently. This was puzzling. Had they admitted anyone recently? Why, yes, they had just admitted a young woman...the babysitter. She had stepped into a nest of fire ants, and had had an allergic reaction. And while I was extremely sorry for her, I was also sorry for me who had to look after an energetic, headstrong toddler at a rainy, muddy bluegrass festival and still retain enough energy to do a stage show. It was not a happy time. Thank goodness we can laugh about it now! (Okay. I told. Now it's your turn. Don't leave me hanging on a limb here.) —MH

Alaska to New England: Road-Tripping with Martha Scott

Your latest newsletter just reached me. It was so fun to read Claire's accounts of life on the road because I took her advice before I even heard it. [Claire Lynch's advice was to get out and play live music if you really want to develop your playing.] Betsy, an acquaintance from Juneau, invited me to tour New England coffeehouses this fall, playing original Alaskan tunes (mostly folk but, you know me, sneaking some bluegrass in as often as I can) and seeing the country.

Our only booked gig was Martha's Vineyard at Wintertide where we made a whopping $74, enough to get our truck, driven all the way from Alaska, and us across on the ferry. The other gigs we set up by phone by charting out where our friends lived and asking them to gather phone numbers and possible venues. We're barely breaking even, all we ever wanted in the first place, but what a hoot!

We don't do bars (smoke) and we haven't done a lot of city gigs. We've done outskirt coffeehouses, mostly, but have played bakeries, boats, even an orchard in New Jersey where we're getting paid in apples that we can send home to friends in Alaska. We bought a used sound system for $500 (10-inch speakers, 3 mikes, cables, stands, 4-channel amp/mixer— barely adequate—and cords) that has served us well. What has amazed me, beyond the fact that somehow I mustered the courage to even try this, is that people have been so supportive and interested in the music about Alaska. We're a guitar and mandolin—more on the rough side than the polished since we just picked up playing together four weeks ago—but with some hard work and long hours we've put together something people enjoy and we enjoy. And they ask us if we have CD's or tapes to sell. Too bad we don't!

People are not going to walk out on you! I was nervous as could be when I saw Wintertide charging $8 a head to come see us. I didn't allow myself the psychological comfort of feeling worth $8 a head but, you know, I was forced to play to that level and it was a good lesson. The work and the progress is worth something and even if you have to be forced into your confidence at first, confidence is the thing that frees you up to start paying attention to sound, etc. I can't agree more with Claire that working "live" is the best developer of skill. I'm still not thrilled by stage performance but am at least learning to use it as an ally rather than regard it as an enemy.

We played live for an hour on WDVR in New Jersey. When we were told Bill Monroe would be on next week's show, I about fainted. Fighting that old confidence thief that

asks me, "What are you doing here in this spot, Scotty?" Well, there I was in that spot and we did a good job and made some new friends. Life is good.

I'm still dedicated to living in rural Alaska, away from most of the organized music. I really related when Claire talked about her "soul"—not losing herself in the music and leaving behind the family. My "family" in Alaska, the bulk of them, live away from the Anchorage/Fairbanks/Juneau road system musical hotbed. To stay rural is a tough choice for me but I do love it and long to live and return there.

Thanks for a great newsletter—inspiring to two ladies who have hit the road for fun!

Letters...

Dear Murphy,

Just a short note to tell you how much I am enjoying and being enlightened by your newsletter. I, of course, am not a musician but I am definitely involved in the business of bluegrass. I do my best to put forth the theory that women need to be put up front and center along with those men.

It gave me great pleasure and much satisfaction to be in charge of the FanFest lineup this year. Jill Douglas and I worked hard to show any doubters out there that we could do the job...But the best part of all was the JAM! Thank you for all the hard work you did to get all the wonderful women on stage—especially those who came because of the jam. We heard wonderful music and got great press for the cause, too.

It struck me this year that we are seeing more women on stage with the younger bands. The thing I like is that they are there because they can cut it, not just because they are women

—Kitsy Kuykendall, Broad Run, VA

Dear Murphy,

Last year I played "Lord, I Wish I Was A Single Girl Again" at my wedding and this year I get to play with a big ol' pregnant belly. I'm due on Christmas Day...I was interested that Claire Lynch said she could stand up and play a whole 45-minute set. Wow! I can't do that! A couple of weeks ago at a festival I sat down the whole time. I started playing with

a band called the All Girl Boys—a gang of serious babes. I found out I was pregnant after they hired me. I'm glad they didn't fire me...

—Sonia Shell, All Girl Boys, San Jose, CA

Note: Emma Rose Powell, born on January 5th, weighed in at an even 9 pounds. Sounds like a banjo player to me! Sonia will be back with the band before long.

Subscribe Today!

"I'm putting my money where my mouth is—also my heart.” (Scotty in Alaska) Keep in touch with what other women in bluegrass are thinking and doing!! Subscribe to Women in Bluegrass. Not a rehash of the same old bluegrass stuff, but women’s stories that no one is telling. To subscribe for 1 year (4 issues), just fill out this form, and send $10.00 to this address (make checks to Women in Bluegrass):

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Database Update

As many of you know, I started a database of women in bluegrass in January 1994. I am trying to locate all women who now play, or who have ever played, bluegrass professionally or semi-professionally. I now have 981 names! I can’t wait to hit 1000! Many of these names still need addresses. I have approximately 454 addresses, because this is how many questionnaires I have sent out. I have had 217 responses to the questionnaire, and I thank each of you for responding.

Many of you have asked how you can help with this project. You can send me names and addresses of women who should be in this database. (Fax # 540-877-2422) You can write and request another questionnaire if you’ve lost yours. You can encourage other Wibbers to send in a questionnaire. You can spread the word about this newsletter. Anybody can be a subscriber! I feel like this database is important. We were able to use it to personally invite 454 women to the IBMA’s World’s Largest All-Female Jam. (I wrote about the jam in the IBMA Newsletter.)

Women in bluegrass are becoming more visible than ever. And not just Alison. I've heard that Cindy Cashdollar is playing dobro with Asleep at the Wheel, and Kristen Scott, 19, is playing banjo with the Larry Stephenson Band. We’re getting there! "I'm going ’round the world. I’m a banjo picking girl...”