Jim Rooney Productions

Folks, It’s been an action packed couple of weeks. On May 18^th I was honored to be the keynote speaker at the Southeast Regional Conference of the Folk Alliance at Montreat, NC, and doubly honored to receive a SERFA Award for “distinguished service and exceptional contributions to Folk Music in the Southeast region of Folk Alliance International.”

As a past Board Member of the Folk Alliance this award meant a lot to me, even more so because it was presented to me by my dear friend Art Menius. Another highlight of the conference for me was a panel called “Wisdom of the Elders” which included old friend Tracy Schwarz (of the New Lost City Ramblers) and his wife Ginny Hawker, and Hall of Fame songwriter Billy Edd Wheeler. My major qualification for the panel was that I recently turned 80 and am now officially an “elder.” The “wisdom” part is debatable.

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After the conference I drove over to Nashville to play a gig with Rooney’s Irregulars at the Station Inn. 

Also, with my hosts in Nashville Laura and Jeff White, I went to visit the one and only Mac Wiseman who was celebrating his 93^rd (!!) birthday. Mac is as sharp as ever. He was one of the first stars I ever saw when he played on the “Hayloft Jamboree” in Boston back in 1954. I even bought his songbook! Mac is still celebrating his recent induction to the Country Music Hall of Fame. It was a real thrill and an honor to be with him on his birthday.

For twelve years my wife Carol and I spent the winter months in the tiny village of Killeenaran on the Southeast corner of Galway Bay in Ireland. On our daily walks we would pass by the Larkin Cottage. If the weather was good Eileen Larkin would always be out tending to her flowers. She was a short woman with white hair, bright eyes and a ready smile, well into her 80’s, clothed in a tweed skirt and wool sweater, intent on pruning, digging, or cutting the flowers, many of which were destined for the church altar on Sunday. (A service for which she was thanked and honored by none other than the Pope himself). I think of her time in her garden as her daily devotion.

If the weather was stormy you would see her sitting in the entry way by the window (also laden with potted flowering plants) reading the daily paper which informed her on politics and sports. She knew what was going on and how well or poorly all the local teams were faring. 

Principally, BPH is the boost in volume of prostate which causes things complicated for men. generic levitra 5mg It is suggested intake of one each once in the morning instead of viagra australia watching porn. This prescribed medicine should be generic cialis australia always taken with caution by elderly persons and persons struggling from reduced kidney and liver function tests, too, can reveal the conditions that lead to aging and death. Kamagra is a generic brand of Learn More Here sales viagra as well as the generic brand. Later in the day she could be found by the stove listening to the news and chat and music on Galway Bay FM. She and her daughter Bernie would always have a cup of tea and biscuits ready for visitors. Her dog Sammy would be on guard or begging for a biscuit before she shooed him into his bed with a shout–SAMMY!!) Often one or another of her children would stop in—Mary Francis, Theresa, Mattie—or one of many grandchildren coming or going to hurling or camogie practice or music lessons. Her whole family lived within a mile of her. They all liked music, dance, sport. There was always lively conversation in that kitchen with Eileen contributing keen observations in her soft but authoritative voice. There is no question that she was the center that held this remarkable family together, by the force of a quiet but solid love. 

When Carol and I visited Eileen in her kitchen this past February, Bernie was offering tea and biscuits, Sammy now had another dog to play with, and Eileen was in her chair by the fire, happy to see us and welcoming us back, but slipping in and out of the conversation. She was 99 and still looking forward to her 100th birthday in the summer, but we could tell that her time to leave was coming. This week it did come, but not before she had called in her many grandchildren so that she could say goodbye in person. Her quiet strength and faith has been instilled in every one of her children, her grandchildren as well as those of us who were lucky enough to be her neighbors and friends. There is no doubt in my mind that Eileen Larkin will rest in peace. She blessed us all with her presence.

Published at Facebook by Jim Rooney · April 27 at 11:06am · 

Tom Rush and I go way back—to 1962. We’ve both been at it a long time, so it’s doubly rewarding to be such good friends and to still be working together. We’re celebrating the release of Tom’s new album “Voices” (Appleseed Records). What makes this album impressive to me is that 10 of the 12 songs are all recently written. Tom’s well has definitely not run dry. There are love songs, funny songs, songs that make you think, songs you want to hear again and again. One reason for that is that Tom’s voice has never sounded better. It has the feel of beautifully polished wood where the grain is deep and catches the light. In this day and age we need to hear this voice and what it has to say. Listening to Tom Rush’s “Voices” makes one happy and grateful to be human.

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2018 release. Tom Rush’s Voices is the CD that fans of modern folk music and contemporary singer-songwriters have been waiting for 50 years. Well known for his golden ear for significant new songs by little-known writers, the New England-based singer-guitarist, one of the last giants of the early ’60s folk boom, was among the very first to record future standards by then-fledgling performers Joni Mitchell, James Taylor, Jackson Browne on 1968’s The Circle Game. On that album, he staked his own claim as a major writer with “No Regrets,” an instant classic and subsequent chart hit in multiple genres by other artists, and one of less than two dozen top-notch Rush originals that would tantalizingly surface on his eleven studio albums. Tom’s new Voices is the first album of his 55-year-plus career consisting of all Rush-written songs, ten relaxed, tenderhearted, amused and sometimes thoughtful songs that perfectly reflect Tom’s wry persona. Harkening back to Rush’s early ’60s roots in Boston as a folk/blues interpreter are two traditional tracks, “Corina, Corina” and the opening “Elder Green,” included because “I didn’t want to compromise my folksinger credentials,” Tom explains. His own compositions are shorn of elaborate metaphors, usually evocative story-songs in everyday settings, and his warm baritone, tanned by experience, humor and melancholy, shines right through the lyrics, warming them from within. As on Rush’s previous studio album, 2009’s What I Know, his first studio release in 35 tour-filled years, his smiling, understated delivery, and exemplary skills as an acoustic guitarist are sympathetically framed by a crew of Nashville-based studio musicians helmed by musician-turned-Grammy-Award-winning producer Jim Rooney, who has worked with Nanci Griffith, John Prine and Iris DeMent, among others. Sidemen include Dobro/pedal steel ace Al Perkins (ex-Flying Burrito Brothers, Stephen Stills’ Manassas, Emmylou Harris), bluegrass great Sam Bush (New Grass Revival, countless others) on mandolin, fiddle, country/bluegrass singers Kathy Mattea and Suzi Ragsdale (backing vocals), and Matt Nakoa (keyboards, backing vocals), a solo artist who has become a frequent Rush tour accompanist.

January 28, 2018 

[used by permission http://www.alanmesser.com/ ]

A stellar lineup of Irregulars joined Jim to bring in a new decade of Rooney:

“Lonesome” Pat McLaughlin, recently on an extended tour with John Prine and a Dan Auerbach album, much of which he co-wrote, that was (executive) produced by another Cowboy Jack Clement protégé Dave Ferguson.

Shawn Camp, just before embarking for England and the latest edition of the Transatlantic Sessions with Jerry Douglas, Phil Cunningham, Aly Bain, Suzy Bogguss, etc. Shawn continuing 2nd time reign as IBMA Male Vocalist of the Year as lead singer for The Earls of Leicester.

Kirk “Jellyroll” Johnson back in the lineup on harmonica

Sam Bush, father of newgrass, making an Irregular appearance on fiddle

Jim Hoke, fresh off a session for Paul McCartney, saxophone and clarinet

and a cast of the usual suspects Pete Wasner (piano), Pat McInerney (drums), Pat Alger (acoustic guitar), “El Presidente” Dave Pomeroy (bass), Bill Kenner (mandolin), Richard Bailey (banjo)

plus SPECIAL GUESTS 

JOHN PRINE
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TOM PAXTON

BILL HEARNE

ROGER COOK

JEFF WHITE

THOMM JUTZ (paying tribute to the late RICHARD DOBSON)

You shoulda been there (actually you can , thanks to a video by Ron Ravitch):

http://vimeo.com/258922376 

Thanks also to “SEÑOR” JIM McGUIRE , Laura Weber White (for the photo below), to others who were part  of the Birthday Tour, and as always to the late Cowboy Jack Clement, who made having fun part of the job description

 

 

March 18, 2018

I am mourning the loss of one of the great voices in Irish music, the sound of the uilleann pipes as played by Liam O’Flynn. I first met Liam at a festival at Ballysodare in Co. Sligo, Ireland, in 1980. I had gone there with Don Everly and the guitarist Phillip Donnelly to play as “The Dead Cowboy Campfire Trio.” That festival was “ruled” by the group Planxty, which consisted of Christy Moore, Andy Irvine, Donal Lunny and Liam O’Flynn. If you want to get an idea of what they sounded like at the time listen to the album “After The Break.” What really set them apart for me was the piping and whistle playing of Liam O’Flynn. Every time he entered a song or a tune it went up to another level. He had a sound that went straight to the heart. In person Liam was very contained, very much an introvert, but with a lovely quiet sense of humor. He was a man who was sure of himself and sure of his music.

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Over the years I had many opportunities to hear Liam with Planxty and many other musicians. Certainly one of the most memorable performances, which I will always treasure took place at The Gate Theater in Dublin when he and the great Irish poet Seamus Heaney took the stage as “The Poet and The Piper” and went back and forth for more than an hour. Each man was at the height of his powers. There was not a word or a note out of place. This intertwining of words and music is at the heart of Irish culture, and I doubt if I will ever experience the like again. Fortunately, there is a recording of “The Poet and The Piper” still available.
I had the good fortune of being able to work with Liam on a television project called “Bringing It All Back Home,” the story of Irish music and its travels around the world produced by Phillip King and Donal Lunny. I was asked to organize some recording sessions in Nashville and one of the highlights was The Everly Brothers singing “Rose Connolly (Down In The Willow Garden)”. They were accompanied by Roy Huskey, Jr. on bass, Phillip Donnelly on acoustic guitar and Liam O’Flynn on pipes. Liam played an extraordinarily beautiful solo that still makes my hair stand on end whenever I hear it.
Another album by Liam is called “The Piper’s Call” (produced by my dear friend Arty McGlynn) which shows the extent of Liam’s reach into the greater world, with appearances by Mark Knopfler and the Galician piper Carlos Nunez.
Liam’s voice was true, it was deep, it was steeped in tradition. He was a great man.

Published by Jim Rooney · March 6, 2018 ·
Returned to Vermont last week after three weeks in Ireland to put a cap on my 80th Birthday Celebrations. We enjoyed beautiful clear, crisp Spring weather in Ireland. Daffodils and snowdrops everywhere. Several cloudless, sunny days which led us to walk on favorite beaches in Connemara and Clare. Carol counted 9(!!) birthday cakes during our stay at various pub sessions and concerts that I did with Arty McGlynn and Mick Daly. I also did a gig with Phillip Donnelly who was such a big part of recordings I did with Nanci Griffith and John Prine. All in all we were on the go for about a month with birthday celebrations in Nashville and Vermont before we left for Ireland. On our last Saturday in Galway Carol had a Flock Fling which served as a reunion of many of the members of her Galway Flock Dance Company. It was a wonderful way for the Flockers to let Carol know how much their Flock experience meant to them. Thankfully, we never caught a cold and were able to enjoy every minute of our stay, reconnecting with our many friends from our nearly 20 year sojourn in our other “home.”
Upon our return to Vermont, the sun was shining and we immediately tapped a dozen trees and started collecting the sap which was running full tilt. In our first week we’re closing in on 1 gallon of maple syrup boiled, with more on the outdoor fire as I write. It is a special thing to experience. There is still snow on the ground, with the promise of a few more inches tomorrow, but the sun is stronger and lasts longer every day, and I keep feeding wood to the fire under the boiling sap pots, enjoying being out in the air, looking forward to the renewal of life which is inevitable. not to be denied.

On Sunday Feb 18th, 4 Music Legends come together for one night for a special show featuring;
Jim Rooney (Nanci Grifith, Iris DeMent, John Prine),
Arty McGlynn (Van Morrison, Makem and Clancy)
Nollaig Casey (Coolfin, Elvis Costello,Liam O’Flynn),
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Published by Jim Rooney · February 4, 2018 ·
Headed to Ireland to continue my 80th birthday celebrations. With Arty McGlynn, Nollaig Casey and Mick Daly, I’ll be at the Ballinderreen Community Centre, Ballinderreen, Co. Galway, Friday, Feb 16; at the Leap Castle, Kinnity, Co. Tipperary, Sat. Feb 17 and Coughlan’s in Cork on Sunday, Feb 18. Finally on Thursday, Feb. 22 with my old Dead Cowboys bandmate, the one and only Phillip Donnelly, at Baker’s in Clonmel, Co. Tipperary.

“Live” at The Cannery 1980s:

 

It is with a heavy heart that I pass on the news that Pete Kuykendall, a major figure in the Bluegrass world, passed on after a lengthy illness. Pete befriended Bill Keith and me when we met him back in 1960. He helped Bill land his first “real” bluegrass gig with Red Allen & Frank Wakefield in 1962. He and his wife Kitsy became our lifelong friends. My deepest sympathy to Kitsy. She was Pete’s rock. Here is a brief bio by John Lawless from “Bluegrass Today” -JR

We have just learned of the passing of Pete Kuykendall, surely among the most consequential figures in bluegrass music during the 20th century. According to his wife, Kitsy, Pete passed in his sleep last night at the nursing facility where he was living in Warrenton, VA. He was 79 years of age.

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In early 1973 I was working on an album at the Bearsville Studio in Woodstock with Eric Von Schmidt. When we were done, Eric and I went down to Brooklyn to deliver the album to Kevin Eggars, who owned Poppy Records. While there we met another artist on the label, Townes Van Zandt, who knew who Eric was and was glad to meet him. I’d never heard his music, but I was intrigued by the title of his new album, “The Late, Great Townes Van Zandt,” which reminded me of the way disc jockeys for a long time always referred to Hank Williams. I’d say that’s the connection Townes had in mind. Townes wanted to be as sad as Hank and never got over it.

Later that year I came down to Nashville from Woodstock to check things out and was beginning to find other singers, songwriters and musicians. There was a tavern on West End Avenue called Bishop’s Pub. It was just a beer joint with a pool table, but it had become home for a group of songwriters from the Houston area. Guy and Susanna Clark, Rodney Crowell and Richard Dobson would sing songs and pass the hat. I met Townes Van Zandt again. He seemed to be at the center of this group. He and his girlfriend Cindy lived outside of town in sort of a country shack with a front porch just right for making music.  It was easy and laid back, and I soon got a feel for Townes as a songwriter. He had soaked up much of what the Houston music scene had to offer. He was into the music of bluesmen like Mance Lipscomb and Lightnin’ Hopkins.

He couldn’t escape hearing people like George Jones and Lefty Frizzell who were carrying on in Hank’s footsteps. He also was attracted to the old English and Appalachian ballads.  When he connected with Jack Clement, who, more than most in Nashville, understood where country music, blues and folk ballads all came together, Townes found a way to bring his songs out into the world. Right away, on the albums they did together there was “For The Sake Of The Song,” “Tecumseh Valley,” “I’ll Be There In The Morning,” “Pancho & Lefty” and “If I Needed You.”  It was easy to see why the other Houston writers were drawn to him and were inspired by him to up their writing game. That influence continued expanding on through the years to other Texas songwriters—Nanci Griffith, Lyle Lovett, Robert Earl Keen, and Steve Earle.

I finally got a chance to work with Townes on an album with Jack Clement in 1987. Even though we hadn’t spent lots of time together lately, Townes and I had a very solid relationship. There were some people who almost worshipped him. A certain mystique had grown up around him, and whatever Townes did was beyond reproach or criticism. I think it made him uncomfortable to be the object of such adulation. I never had that kind of relationship with him. I think he knew instinctively that I wasn’t a game player and that I understood where his music came from. The result was that we had a great time making this record, which we called “At My Window.”

Together with the earlier albums that Townes did with Cowboy, I think this turned out to be one of his best, and it shows why all those other writers looked up to him. The songs came up through him from a deep source. He sang them to us in a voice as burnished and dark and light as the whiskey he loved. His was an old soul telling and retelling the old stories that show us how to pass through this life and go on to the next. Townes closed the album with an exceptional song, “The Catfish Song.”

                   Well, the angel of springtime

He rides down the southwind

The angel of summer he does just the same

The angel of autumn

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And the angel of winter

Won’t remember your name

Down at the bottom of that dirty ol’ river

Down where the reeds and the catfish play

There lies a dream as soft as the water

There lies a bluebird that’s flown away

There lies a bluebird

That’s flown away.

That was Townes.

 

Please help me welcome the newest member of the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame, Townes Van Zandt.

[Ed. note:  Bill Keith died on October 23, 2015, soon after this was posted. He had been ill for some time.]

Last week I was able to connect with two of my long-time musical families–the Bluegrass Family and the Folk Music Family.

I went to the IBMA Bluegrass Convention in Raleigh, North Carolina to participate in the induction to the Bluegrass Hall of Fame of my long time (56 years!) musical partner Bill Keith.

I started off by recounting how Bill and I started our journey together:

I heard recently that Steve Martin said that, for him, there were three banjo players–Pete Seeger, Earl Scruggs and Bill Keith. When I met Bill Keith in early 1959 he was playing a Pete Seeger model long neck banjo and had just gotten to the last pages of Seeger’s instruction book which described Scruggs picking. Bill had also bought Flatt & Scruggs “Foggy Mountain Jamboree.” I told Bill that I knew some of those songs because a few years earlier I had heard them played on the radio in Boston by Everett and Bea Lilly, Don Stover and Tex Logan–The Confederate Mountaineers. So Bill and I started hanging out together, playing a mixture of folk music, early Bluegrass songs, and instrumentals. We were going to Amherst College in Western Massachusetts, and on our Spring Break I made it a point to bring Bill into a joint in Boston called The Hillbilly Ranch to see Don Stover. Learning from a book or from records is one thing, but when Bill Keith laid eyes and ears on Don Stover in person, everything started to make sense. The impact of Don’s drive and inventiveness was incalculable. Bill also realized how much more there was to learn. He listened to J.D. Crowe, Sonny Osborne, Eddie Adcock, Don Reno, Allen Shelton. He wanted to learn–and has never stopped learning.

By 1962 we were lucky enough to team up Joe Val and Herb Applin, as well as Frtiz Richmond on washtub bass, so we were now a full-fledged bluegrass band. Around this time Bill started working on “The Devil’s Dream” and “The Sailor’s Hornpipe.” He wanted to play them note for note just as his neighbor June Hall did on the fiddle. It wasn’t an attempt to be flashy; he really just wanted to play the melody. That Fall when we made an album for Prestige Records called “Livin’ On The Mountain.” Bill recorded both tunes together in one take. It was pretty amazing.

As Bill had been drawn more and more into the playing of Earl Scruggs he slowed down all of Earl’s solos and started figuring out a tablature system which would enable him to play them note for note. Thanks to our Boston manager Manny Greenhill, Bill demonstrated it for Earl, who then invited Bill to come to Nashville to help him work on his instruction book.

Naturally, Earl took Bill to the Opry. Before too long Bill joined a jam session backstage where he played “The Devil’s Dream” and “The Sailor’s Hornpipe.” Jaws were dropping. One of them belonged to Bill Monroe! A while later he sent Kenny Baker back to Bill Keith. He said, “If you ever want a job with Bill Monroe, you’ve got it.” Four years after he had gotten to the end of Pete Seeger’s instruction book, Bill Keith was going to be a Bluegrass Boy! As soon as Bill joined the band Monroe recorded “The Devil’s Dream” and “The Sailor’s Hornpipe” and started featuring Bill on his Opry shows. Our “Livin’ On The Mountain” album came out and suddenly the Bluegrass world was starting to talk about “Keith” picking. Banjo playing would never be the same.

I shared the honors of inducting Bill with one of my favorite people, banjo player Alan Munde. I will share with you what Alan had to say about Bill’s influence on banjo players:

“My good friend, picking partner, and colleague at South Plains College, Joe Carr, wrote a song of advice for our Camp Bluegrass attendees with the basic message of “we didn’t mean to change your lives, we only wanted to teach you G, C, and D.”   As we all know too well, G, C, and D can change your life and in fact become your life. Bill Keith could likewise say “I didn’t mean to change your life, I only wanted to play ‘Devil’s Dream’ on the banjo.” And likewise we all came to realize that he changed not only the banjo world but the whole of bluegrass as Neil Rosenberg noted in his book Bluegrass, A History: “Keith’s impact on bluegrass was revolutionary.” It certainly was for me as it was for an untold number of banjo players that followed. Bill Keith’s style of playing, first of fiddle tunes and later adding his own expansive view of banjo possibilities, has given immensely to banjo players tool box of performance techniques and allowed the banjo to become more adaptive in the contemporary world of our music.”

I have always liked Tony Trischka’s comment that in bluegrass to be different you don’t have to be very different. Playing an old tune, “Devil’s Dream,” in a new way can be likened to playing the old song, “Mule Skinner Blues,” in a new way. To some they can both be viewed as not very different renditions of the originals, but like learning G, C, and D, they are differences that make a big difference.   Bill Monroe invented the music with “Muleskinner Blues,” and Bill Keith changed the trajectory of bluegrass music with “Devil’s Dream ” and all the adaptive techniques and musical concepts he explained to us through his recordings, workshops, concerts, and thousands of hours of private time spent with individual interested players. Bill led us all to a new way of thinking about the banjo and in turn bluegrass music . Through the portal of all that he brought to the banjo and bluegrass, Bill helped in a big way to bring us to where we are today.

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After Alan spoke I recalled what Bill Monroe had to say about Bill “Brad” Keith. (Monroe didn’t want any confusion about who the “Bill” in the band was.)

“Brad Keith, he understands music. He’s a good listener and he’s a good man to listen to. He’s done a lot of good for music and especially for Bluegrass. At a time when I needed a boost, I think Brad gave it to me. I think it came in just when I needed it. Before he came along no banjo player could play those old fiddle numbers right. You have to play like Brad could play or you would be faking your way through a number. It’s learned a lot of banjo players what to do and how to do it where they can come along and fill that bill today.”

At this point a video was shown from the Grey Fox Festival showing Bill Keith playing the “Devil’s Dream” with a young fiddler named Johnny Cody. It captured Bill’s openness in sharing his talent with any young person who was willing to learn.

When the lights came up I said,

I would like to think that if Bill Monroe were with us here tonight he would join Alan, me and all of you in welcoming Bill Keith into the Bluegrass Hall of Fame.

The audience stood and gave Bill a resounding ovation. The smile on his face told the whole story.

The night before we were able to spend time with Bill in the company of lifelong friends Happy and Jane Traum, Tony Trischka, and Sam Bush. On the night of the award Bill and Del McCoury recalled their days as Bluegrass Boys together back in 1963. Now they are both in the Hall of Fame.

 

I was also happy to congratulate my fellow Irregular and former Forerunner Music songwriter, Shawn Camp for being voted Male Vocalist of the Year. Shawn is one of the most talented people I know. Check out his Oh Boy Records album “Live At The Station Inn.” It’s a total winner. His award at IBMA was the result of his recent work with the Earls of Leicester, who won every award they were nominated for. My great buddy Jerry Douglas masterminded this project. Like Bill Keith, Jerry has taken the dobro to new levels. We have worked together on many projects over the years. His enthusiasm and creativity never end. These people are all part of my Bluegrass family. And it was a joy to be with them all.

The day after I returned from Raleigh Carol and I drove down to Cambridge to a memorial gathering for Byron Linardos, who managed the Club 47 from 1962-65. I have already written about Byron, but I thought is was a great tribute to him that 50 years later so many of us from those early days showed up to share stories with his wife of 57 years, Catherine, and his daughters Pavan and Felice.

Tom Rush, Geoff Muldaur, Betsy Siggins, “Spider” John Koerner, Carol and I were all helped enormously by Byron when we were starting out. He was demanding and encouraging. He wanted us to become better at what we were setting out to do. He really cared, and it made a big difference to all of us. Whenever we get together there is that sense of belonging to a family. We are bound together by the love of music, which still motivates us to get out in the world and share it with whoever wants to listen.

This afternoon I heard that Byron Linardos–Byron Lord Linardos–had died. I gathered myself together, went out back to our pond, sat down with some Bacardi Dark Rum (somehow Eric Von Schmidt had shown up) and some Greek olives, looked up at the clouds passing by and whispered “KaloTaxidi” (Have a good trip!) to my departing friend. As I did that a kingfisher appeared and just as quickly disappeared. An elegant crested bird–a master at what he does. Not unlike Byron. A few days earlier I had been stacking wood and suddenly Byron came into my mind. And I thought I should give a call. I knew he was coming to the end. A few months back I had stopped by to see him, but he didn’t want to see anybody. So he was with me when he died while I was stacking wood. He wouldn’t have answered the call. He had called me instead.

Right from the start I knew Byron was special–how many people do you know who were named after Lord Byron?–but I didn’t know how special. It was January, 1962. The Club Mt. Auburn 47 had been closed for a few months by the police for various imagined infractions and was just reopening under new management. It had become well known before the closing mainly because a young folk singer named Joan Baez had started enthralling all within the sound of her voice there before leaving with her family for California. The Club was organized as a non-profit and had a Board of Directors gathered from the community. The two women who had started it had decided to move on so the Board cast about for someone to manage the place day to day. They came up with Byron, who had already had a hand in running a couple of coffee houses in Boston and Cambridge. He had grown up in Cambridge and was a mixture of a street-smart local and someone who had a passion for music and the arts. He was Greek-American — a great combination.
My musical partner Bill Keith and I started playing at the Club and Byron let us know right away that he liked what we were doing and gave us a regular weekly spot. He figured this out right away–that if you had a different artist (he thought of us as “artists” not “acts”) every night on a regular basis, an audience would build for each one. So the schedule would be like this for any given week: Tom Rush, Jim Kweskin, Keith & Rooney, Jackie Washington, The Charles River Valley Boys, Geoff Muldaur.
Then Byron had an inspired idea. Due to the weird Cambridge laws about having live music in a “club.” The 47 had been organized as a private club exempt from these rules. Which meant that everyone who came in had to become a member (for $1) and fill out a card with name and address. Which meant that Byron had a mailing list. Which led him to create monthly calendars with great old-time graphics which the members would receive (and, in many cases, keep to this day). Thus, there were no other advertising costs. It truly became a club for the members. All of us “artists” treated it that way too. We were there many nights a week. Byron made us all feel that it was our home.
We were lucky to have Byron also because he actually knew how to run a coffee house, serving coffee, tea and flavored soda drinks at a profit–not exorbitant, but real–
The house factors emotionally charged viagra online india http://amerikabulteni.com/tag/dancing-with-the-stars/ on top of that each erectile dysfunction medication has its own set of side effects. Less aggressive bile moving up or down the system means less pain, diarrhea, acid reflux, gallbladder stones, etc. tadalafil overnight delivery Continue to shop You can’t get away from the concept of dedicating a certain amount of time everyday with out http://amerikabulteni.com/2011/07/25/norwegian-killers-manifesto-suggests-he-wanted-to-spark-a-crusade/ viagra pfizer cialis any excuses to practice your discipline. In addition cialis usa pharmacy to the active ingredient, vardenafil is a PDE5 inhibitor. And having only one item on the menu–locally made baklava! A Byron touch. It all seems simple and obvious now, but it wasn’t then, and Byron’s nightly presence reinforced the idea that this place was special, that he wasn’t going to tolerate sloppy, careless performances or sloppy, careless service. This place deserved respect. Byron insisted on it.
In the Fall of 1963 the Club moved to a new location, 47 Palmer St, off of Harvard Square. This gave Byron a chance to help create a space which was simple and elegant–using the brick and granite in the basement walls, using tables and chairs out of handcrafted wood, white walls for art exhibits, an efficient kitchen space. The programming expanded to include Early Music and guitar recitals on Sundays, children’s concerts on Saturday afternoons, regular art exhibits and openings. Byron was able to fulfill his vision of the Club becoming a real artistic center in Cambridge.
However, Byron, of course, was never satisfied. He wanted more. He was Greek! Maybe a small theater, a restaurant, more possibilities. The Club was doing very well at Palmer Street. There were lines down the block , but the space was limited to what we were doing, and Byron finally decided that maybe he had done what he had come to do and it was time to move on. It was 1965. The Folk Revival that we were all part of was exploding. The artists that Byron had helped get up on their feet were now traveling around the country, doing concerts, making records. The Club was changing too. It was no longer possible to have a different local artist every night. They were away a lot of the time. The “club” atmosphere that Byron nourished and cherished had changed. It was now becoming a “Club” where you went to hear music. I think Byron didn’t feel comfortable with that change, so he moved on.
One of my great connections with Byron was because he was Greek. As a result of studying Greek for several years I was lucky enough to get a Fulbright Fellowship to go to the American School of Classical Studies in Athens. I was never much of a scholar, but that year made all the difference for me as I came to understand and appreciate the deeply creative and passionate energy of the Greek people over the course of thousands of years. I now could understand and appreciate Byron’s passion, his creativity, his restlessness, his love of music and the arts, his refusal to accept second best, second rate, second anything. In 1966 Byron, “Spider” John Koerner and I took a trip to Greece. We did it all–the Acropolis, the museums, the temples at Delphi, but most of all we went to hear these incredible Greek musicians and singers the Byron knew all about–the bouzouki master Yiannis Papaioannou, the singer and composer Mikis Theodorakis. One night we found ourselves in a small downstairs restaurant in Athens which catered to people from the island of Crete. Crete was never conquered by the Germans. The great writer Nikos Kazantzakis, creator of Zorba, was from Crete. It was a Sunday night when we came into the place. It was full of people in their Sunday suits eating and drinking at small tables while two musicians played in the corner. One was playing an oud, the other a one string upright fiddle called a lera. After people were through eating a group of men from one table got up and started a circle dance, slapping their heels, the leader twirling a handkerchief. They sat down and another group got up and one of them eventually jumped up on the corner of a table still covered in dishes and bottles and didn’t miss a beat or touch a dish. The place went wild. Byron’s mouth was open, his eyes popping. Still it went on. Another group got up and this fellow who didn’t look anything like Anthony Quinn’s Zorba–you wouldn’t have looked twice at him on the street–crouched down by the corner of a table, arms held high, fingers snapping, took the corner of the table in his teeth and lifted the whole thing, dishes, bottles and all, off the ground! That was it. The place went wild. Everyone bought everyone else a bottle. Byron leaned over and shouted at me, “If you had told me this, I never would have believed you!”
That kind of energy made Byron a restless soul. He loved his wife Catherine and his daughters Felice and Pavan, but he had a hard time staying at home. He had to be out.  He was driven and addictive. Gambling and cards were a passion. He loved the night. But he also loved opera, art, classical music which he shared with Catherine and the girls. He told me once that he had taken Catherine and Pavan to see Glenn Gould who was going to do a recital at the Isabella Gardner Museum in Boston. Byron was crazy about Glenn Gould. They didn’t have tickets and when they got there, there was a long line of people waiting for the doors to open. Without hesitating, Byron took Catherine and Pavan to the front of the line and knocked on the door. When it opened, he brushed past the surprised usher saying, “They’re expecting us.” That was Byron.
As I sat by the pond saying my farewell to Byron, the lines of a Hadjidakis song came into my mind. In English the words say in part, “The clouds they may bring the sleet and rain, let the rain come, the sleet come, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.” When Byron did the calendars for the Club 47, his signature image was of a man under an umbrella with the rain coming down. Byron is out from under the rain now. It doesn’t matter anymore. Kalo taxidi, my friend.

Jim Rooney