“A one-legged Indian sawed out a tune…”

Brian O'ConnorLast night we got to talking about unforgettable “music experiences” we have had – times when we’ve just happened to be in a place where people spontaneously gathered and began to play or sing.  For me, it was at a little roadside café on the way to Yosemite back in the 1960s.

They were open for breakfast and lunch only, and we were among their last customers of the day.  About halfway through our meal, we noticed that the waitress had quit clearing tables and had brought her fiddle from somewhere behind the counter.  Then a guy at the corner table opened his guitar case and a few folks drifted in through the back door bringing their instruments… and suddenly we were surrounded by glorious, spontaneous music.

Greg talked about a similar experience.  “I had never been in Appalachia,” he said, “but that’s what it felt like.”  I knew exactly what he meant – probably a stereotype, but a really great one to my way of thinking.  For each of us, miles and years apart, it was a time that left a deep impression.  (Which reminds me, I forgot to mention the movie “The Songcatcher” to him…)

Then Greg shared his dream that the garage attached to the Oysterville Store might become some sort of a music venue eventually.  “I could lock up the store, open the garage doors, and people could just come on in…  It’s a great space.  Beautiful wooden floors.  It would be a perfect place for spontaneous musical gatherings…”

Then he asked the five dollar question (at least in my mind.)  “Did those sorts of music sessions ever happen here in Oysterville that you remember?  Or that you’ve heard of?  Is there a musical tradition here?”  Hmmm.  All I remember from my childhood was the envy I felt because my friends had to practice the piano!  I SO wanted to take lessons but that never happened.

Nyel remembered that mom’s friend Edith Olson talked about William Fisher who played the violin.  “He didn’t sing,” she would say.  “But, oh he was good.”  She said her favorite tune was “Hair in the Beans.”  That was pretty much before my time, though.  William Fisher has been in the cemetery since 1942.

Hootenanny Program My Great Aunt Dora remembered “a one-legged Indian who sawed out a tune on his fiddle” for the dances in the hall above the saloon when she was a little girl.  That was even longer ago – back in the 1880s. Not that she ever got to go, mind you.  But sometimes she would go with her father (who owned the building) to get things ready beforehand.   She never said whether or not they told her mother that they lingered to hear the music.

I don’t know if ‘Greg’s Garage Fantasy’ will come to fruition or not.  I hope so!  On another note (ahem!), tomorrow’s Vesper service at the church is going to be a hootenanny!  Not exactly spontaneous, but certainly unrehearsed, singing-wise.  I don’t know if Oysterville ever saw hootenannies back in the day, but it’s our former postmaster Casey Killingsworth and Family who are putting it all together for tomorrow – so the Oysterville connection is strong, indeed.  It’s sure to be another music experience to remember.

One Response to ““A one-legged Indian sawed out a tune…””

  1. Nancy says:

    Oh, how I wish we would be in Oysterville for tomorrow’s Vesper service! I remember meeting Casey before he left his “post” in the village, and have his lovely book of poetry in the library. I must be in need of an Oysterville “Fix”…..sigh…..

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