Winfield 06
I decided to go down to Winfield on Tuesday this year to get a little down time before the weekend. I negotiated a spot in vendor camping as part of my MC deal, so I didn’t have to do the whole land rush insanity. Got there about 3 PM. I spend the evening saying hello and visiting with a variety of folks. Spend a couple of hours at Rick Bentley’s camp, from Tulsa. Rick won the banjo contest back in the 80’s sometime, and he is the best banjo player at Winfield the years that Trishka or Fleck don’t show up. He is also borderline insane, which makes for a pleasant couple of hours of conversation. Also checked in with the Chicken Train folks, and went by Stage 7 to see who was there. Sadly, Frat Camp was non-existant this year. Wandered a while and turned in early. Still feeling washed out from a cold I picked up at the Missouri Valley festival Labor Day weekend. Mary, my festival widow, also had a cold and she spent a lot of the weekend reading in the trailer.
Decided at the last minute to sign up for a 4 hour mandolin workshop with Bruce Graybill on Wednesday. I figured I didn’t have to learn much to be worth $30. Found out I’m not really doing much wrong in the way of technique, so I guess I just need to practice once in a while. Big letdown, I was hoping for a magic insight. Spent the evening with more visiting. Laughed my rear nearly off listening to the two dudes from swamp country down in Lousiana. Got to see Betse set up her tent, that’s always a scene I look forward to every year. Actually, she has gotten pretty good at it, so no big incidents to report. In years past it has involved the Winfield fire dept. Went to bed before 1 AM for the second night in a row.
Thursday was a 6 hour work day, including an afternoon session MC’ing the main stage. Phil drove the brown clown in right on schedule, and the rest of the band materialized in that mysterious fashion in which bands do. Introduced the afternoon Wilders show in a totally responsible manner. Got to see small Gretel doing her baby walk around backstage. (Actually she walks about as well as her dad does sometimes). Did my guest slot in the evening, 3 songs, no catastrophes, much fun. This was three of the only 8 songs that I actually played and sang at any time at the festival this year.
Also, tried out my flatfooting for the first time in front of actual people, not counting tickfest. A review was once written about a dancing pig act and it said in essence, “The remarkable thing about the dancing pig is not how well the pig dances, but the fact that the pig dances at all.” That pretty much sums up my situation at present. Strangely, the crowd responded in such a favorable manner that I decided to quit my job and dance full time from here on out. Or at least try it again. Betty, Norm, and Vieta came by after the show and were surprisingly polite about my performance.
Met Nick, the young dancer with the David Munnelly band. He is very much into traditional dance and music, from Michigan, learning clawhammer banjo. Showed me a couple of steps that he thought I might have sense enough to understand, nothing fancy. He is the friendliest guy you will ever meet, he called out “Hi, Dale” every time he got within 50 feet of me the rest of the weekend. Third night early to bed. Damn, I must be maturing.
Friday was another 6 hour work day, 5 of it with Andrea Springer who was in a band with me in the 80’s. Got to catch up on all the lowdown in Hutchinson, KS, my former home and had a generally good time. She was married for a time to the crazy English banjo player that I sometimes quote. Used my Leatherman tool to clip strings for Steve Kaufman and Pat Flynn, but did not seem to be able to play any better for it. Found Sam, Greg, Amy, Sarah, and Murph from KC early in the evening. Spent a couple of hours guiding LVJ in the camp and showing him around. Due to my bad directions, he got to Winfield, then drove east almost to Joplin, MO before turning around and heading back. We got to LaLa land, found Peggy and Rick. Then, in one of these remarkable coincidences, Galen Jeter from Iowa walked by. Galen and I have been fellow revelers up at Avoca and Missouri Valley for many years, but it was his first time at Winfield. Spent an hour or so with him, he provided lubrication, and I gave him a tour of the bowels of hell down in the south Pecan grove. Galen is the sort that appreciates such things.
Shortly after that I played two more of my eight songs for the weekend. I was carrying the banjo past a group of people sitting in front of a row of Porta-Johns. They asked for a song, said they were guarding the johns and it was getting boring. I really appreciate people who do that sort of thing, so I played Hot Corn, Cold corn for them. They asked for another one, so I did another then headed to Chicken Train to sing in the can. Unfortunately I was too late, the can had been put away. So I sang the songs that I would have sang, three of them. General consensus seemed to be that it was just as well that I got there too late to record, although everybody was too polite to actually say that. By that time, I couldn’t remember what I sang, so put the banjo away. Attended the Wilders 3 AM show, participated slightly, all that has been reported by others. Hit the sack at 5 AM, my only late night.
Got up late Saturday, worked the main stage 4 hours. Used the Leatherman to disassemble and repair an accordion. Temperature got up to near 100, the wind blew about 50 MPH, dust, dirt, trash, trailers, anvils, all sorts of stuff blew across the stage, but everybody managed to play their sets anyway. I can’t remember what I did Saturday night for various reasons, other than a bike ride with Phil and Kim and more visiting. Pretty strung out and tired by then. Normally spend early Saturday night apologizing for all my asinine acts and statements so nobody goes home mad, but only had a few things to deal with this time. Hope I didn’t miss any offendees. Declined Sarah’s offer to climb trees, maybe next year. Saw Betse go on stage with David Munnelly and crew, but it was at 11:52 and I had 8 minutes to get a shower or sleep with a half inch coat of dust, so bailed out and washed. Also missed Splitlip Rayfield on stage 5 due to hygenic obsession. Early to bed, quickly to sleep, woke briefly to thunder, lightning, and rain, decided to hell with it and went back to sleep.
Got up Sunday to a cold north wind, worked stage 1 again for three hours until 1 PM. Loaned my coat to various freezing performers and workers. Wilders came up for their set, Ike was freaked out because he had a suit custom made for Conway Twitty. Couldn’t get much out of him except “Hello Darlin’.” Told him I had Conway’s skull in my private collection but he ignored me. Danced one more time, hitched up the Airstream and went home. Got there about 9 PM, happy to be home, a little grief stricken that it was all over for another year.
For a long time, Winfield has marked the turn of the year for me, more so than Jan. 1. It comes at the end of summer and when I get home I always have a whole new set of priorities, like cutting wood for the winter. Summer stuff is done and gone for another half year or longer. I also often leave with a sense of time and opportunity wasted as I realize how little I have accomplished in the last 12 months and all the things I wish I had done and didn’t. Not so much this time. I learned enough flatfooting to call myself an old time dancer in the last 12 months, and that is going to be a calling for a while if my lower extremities hold up. First new skill since I took up clawhammer banjo after seeing the Freight Hoppers for the first time a few years ago. I think it’s going to be a very good 12 months before I roll back into the fairgrounds next year.
Apologies to all who amused, entertained, and nourished me and whom I didn’t mention. Having a hard time catching up after a week gone and my mind is a little confused. Also, am going to bed instead of editing this. Any mis-spellings shall be permanent.
Decided at the last minute to sign up for a 4 hour mandolin workshop with Bruce Graybill on Wednesday. I figured I didn’t have to learn much to be worth $30. Found out I’m not really doing much wrong in the way of technique, so I guess I just need to practice once in a while. Big letdown, I was hoping for a magic insight. Spent the evening with more visiting. Laughed my rear nearly off listening to the two dudes from swamp country down in Lousiana. Got to see Betse set up her tent, that’s always a scene I look forward to every year. Actually, she has gotten pretty good at it, so no big incidents to report. In years past it has involved the Winfield fire dept. Went to bed before 1 AM for the second night in a row.
Thursday was a 6 hour work day, including an afternoon session MC’ing the main stage. Phil drove the brown clown in right on schedule, and the rest of the band materialized in that mysterious fashion in which bands do. Introduced the afternoon Wilders show in a totally responsible manner. Got to see small Gretel doing her baby walk around backstage. (Actually she walks about as well as her dad does sometimes). Did my guest slot in the evening, 3 songs, no catastrophes, much fun. This was three of the only 8 songs that I actually played and sang at any time at the festival this year.
Also, tried out my flatfooting for the first time in front of actual people, not counting tickfest. A review was once written about a dancing pig act and it said in essence, “The remarkable thing about the dancing pig is not how well the pig dances, but the fact that the pig dances at all.” That pretty much sums up my situation at present. Strangely, the crowd responded in such a favorable manner that I decided to quit my job and dance full time from here on out. Or at least try it again. Betty, Norm, and Vieta came by after the show and were surprisingly polite about my performance.
Met Nick, the young dancer with the David Munnelly band. He is very much into traditional dance and music, from Michigan, learning clawhammer banjo. Showed me a couple of steps that he thought I might have sense enough to understand, nothing fancy. He is the friendliest guy you will ever meet, he called out “Hi, Dale” every time he got within 50 feet of me the rest of the weekend. Third night early to bed. Damn, I must be maturing.
Friday was another 6 hour work day, 5 of it with Andrea Springer who was in a band with me in the 80’s. Got to catch up on all the lowdown in Hutchinson, KS, my former home and had a generally good time. She was married for a time to the crazy English banjo player that I sometimes quote. Used my Leatherman tool to clip strings for Steve Kaufman and Pat Flynn, but did not seem to be able to play any better for it. Found Sam, Greg, Amy, Sarah, and Murph from KC early in the evening. Spent a couple of hours guiding LVJ in the camp and showing him around. Due to my bad directions, he got to Winfield, then drove east almost to Joplin, MO before turning around and heading back. We got to LaLa land, found Peggy and Rick. Then, in one of these remarkable coincidences, Galen Jeter from Iowa walked by. Galen and I have been fellow revelers up at Avoca and Missouri Valley for many years, but it was his first time at Winfield. Spent an hour or so with him, he provided lubrication, and I gave him a tour of the bowels of hell down in the south Pecan grove. Galen is the sort that appreciates such things.
Shortly after that I played two more of my eight songs for the weekend. I was carrying the banjo past a group of people sitting in front of a row of Porta-Johns. They asked for a song, said they were guarding the johns and it was getting boring. I really appreciate people who do that sort of thing, so I played Hot Corn, Cold corn for them. They asked for another one, so I did another then headed to Chicken Train to sing in the can. Unfortunately I was too late, the can had been put away. So I sang the songs that I would have sang, three of them. General consensus seemed to be that it was just as well that I got there too late to record, although everybody was too polite to actually say that. By that time, I couldn’t remember what I sang, so put the banjo away. Attended the Wilders 3 AM show, participated slightly, all that has been reported by others. Hit the sack at 5 AM, my only late night.
Got up late Saturday, worked the main stage 4 hours. Used the Leatherman to disassemble and repair an accordion. Temperature got up to near 100, the wind blew about 50 MPH, dust, dirt, trash, trailers, anvils, all sorts of stuff blew across the stage, but everybody managed to play their sets anyway. I can’t remember what I did Saturday night for various reasons, other than a bike ride with Phil and Kim and more visiting. Pretty strung out and tired by then. Normally spend early Saturday night apologizing for all my asinine acts and statements so nobody goes home mad, but only had a few things to deal with this time. Hope I didn’t miss any offendees. Declined Sarah’s offer to climb trees, maybe next year. Saw Betse go on stage with David Munnelly and crew, but it was at 11:52 and I had 8 minutes to get a shower or sleep with a half inch coat of dust, so bailed out and washed. Also missed Splitlip Rayfield on stage 5 due to hygenic obsession. Early to bed, quickly to sleep, woke briefly to thunder, lightning, and rain, decided to hell with it and went back to sleep.
Got up Sunday to a cold north wind, worked stage 1 again for three hours until 1 PM. Loaned my coat to various freezing performers and workers. Wilders came up for their set, Ike was freaked out because he had a suit custom made for Conway Twitty. Couldn’t get much out of him except “Hello Darlin’.” Told him I had Conway’s skull in my private collection but he ignored me. Danced one more time, hitched up the Airstream and went home. Got there about 9 PM, happy to be home, a little grief stricken that it was all over for another year.
For a long time, Winfield has marked the turn of the year for me, more so than Jan. 1. It comes at the end of summer and when I get home I always have a whole new set of priorities, like cutting wood for the winter. Summer stuff is done and gone for another half year or longer. I also often leave with a sense of time and opportunity wasted as I realize how little I have accomplished in the last 12 months and all the things I wish I had done and didn’t. Not so much this time. I learned enough flatfooting to call myself an old time dancer in the last 12 months, and that is going to be a calling for a while if my lower extremities hold up. First new skill since I took up clawhammer banjo after seeing the Freight Hoppers for the first time a few years ago. I think it’s going to be a very good 12 months before I roll back into the fairgrounds next year.
Apologies to all who amused, entertained, and nourished me and whom I didn’t mention. Having a hard time catching up after a week gone and my mind is a little confused. Also, am going to bed instead of editing this. Any mis-spellings shall be permanent.
posted by tickmeister at 8:49 PM
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