Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, April 3, 1990 TAG: 9004030188
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: LYNN A. COYLE STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Because it's like going home.
"I started playing there," Hannabass explained. He took guitar lessons from Shirley Hunter, one of the club's frequent performers. When he was about 13, Hunter started letting him come on stage with her group. Hannabass said he was so bad though, that Hunter wouldn't even put a microphone on his guitar.
"But if you're learning to play, what more perfect place to have the pressure put on you than to have to go out in front of 2,000 or 3,000 people and have to either do it or not do it?," Hannabass said.
Roanoke's Fiddle & Banjo Club claims to be the world's largest, with members from as far away as California, Holland, and even Poland. The claim would be hard to substantiate since there are no official membership rolls.
Yet many bluegrass lovers in the club's own back yard don't even realize it exists. Or don't understand what it is and how it operates.
Although they're listed as concerts in this newspaper's weekly Calendar of events, some people think the monthly Fiddle & Banjo Club meetings are, well, meetings - the kind where people debate issues and take votes. Others think they're practice sessions, where anyone can just get up and play.
But the "meetings," held the first Saturday of the month at the Roanoke Civic Center Auditorium, are actually four-hour concerts, featuring 20-minute performances by 11 different musical acts and one square dance group. Bluegrass, old-time and gospel music make up the agenda. No electric or percussion instruments are allowed.
If you want to perform there, you'll have to get in line. Even though no one gets paid, there are enough regular acts to fill up two months' worth of concerts and still have a waiting list.
Interested in joining the club? You don't need to be a musician. Just show up Saturday night. Any time between 7 and 11 is fine. It gets pretty packed sometimes, but you can always find a seat in the balcony. And unless you have no money - or no conscience - pull some money out of your pocket when the collection bucket comes around. See Evelyn backstage at the coffee pot if you want your name added to the mailing list.
That's about as official as it gets.
The agenda
It's Saturday night and the March meeting of the Fiddle & Banjo Club has just come to order. Shortly after 7 p.m., the Craig County Boys are ushered on stage, joined by guest fiddler Billy Hurt. 3 1 CLUB Club Hurt, 19, has won the bluegrass fiddle competition at The Old-Time Fiddlers Convention in Galax the past two years. Like Hannabass, he's grown up in the club.
Emcee Hillard Jones gets several requests every month from guest bands that want to play at the club. Tonight, Sam Bolt, a young fiddle player from Floyd, inquires about a guest opening for his band, Bolt Brothers & Buffalo.
Jones doesn't have an opening, but promises to call Bolt when there is one. "It doesn't matter how good they are," Jones says, "we want to give everyone a chance to play."
Jones peeks from behind the curtain and estimates the crowd at about 2,000. The Civic Center Auditorium seats 2,475. People drift in and out all night.
At 7:40 Hurt is on stage again, this time with the group Deep South, playing "twin fiddles" with another fiddle player. During the set, 16-year-old Paul Moore glides onto the stage, showing off the moves that won him the flat-footing contest at last year's Vinton Fair.
While Harvey Holland, assistant program coordinator, keeps things moving by herding the groups on and off the stage, Jones sneaks in a few announcements:
On April 28, the club will hold its annual benefit concert for the Roanoke County Occupational School. In August and September - when the club gets temporarily booted out of the auditorium while asbestos removal is done - plans are being made to have the concerts outdoors at Elmwood Park.
Groups that have earned a regular place on the program play in an assigned time slot every other month, but the times rotate. This Saturday, groups will play 20 minutes later than they did in February.
Some things, though, are carved in stone. From 8 to 9 p.m., the concert is always broadcast live on WSLC radio (610 AM). The 9:20 time slot is always reserved for square dancers. The group scheduled for the 10 p.m. rotation always forfeits its slot for a guest. And at 9 p.m., Jones always starts the collection buckets.
Jones treads a fine line between twisting the arms of those who can afford to contribute and letting those who can't know that it's still OK to come and enjoy the concerts. If each person in attendance puts a dollar in the bucket, the club will meet its expenses, which average about $1,700 a month.
Tonight's contributions total $1,790.17. According to treasurer Woodrow Wilkerson, that's a good night.
Not everyone who plays at the club grew up there. Hunter, whose band is waiting onstage while the collection is taken, is a veteran of radio and records. In the 1960s she had a contract as a country singer with Mercury Records. Her hit single, "Billy Christian," was written by Tom T. Hall when he was a student at Roanoke College and the Statler Brothers sang backup. Hunter has sung with Porter Wagoner and toured with Hank Williams Jr.
"Ruuu-BEEE. RUUU-beee," Hunter croons, holding the notes so long it makes you want to catch your breath. "Honey are you mad at your man?"
In addition to Hunter and Hannabass - who plays guitar, fiddle and banjo - Hunter's group consists of Galax dobro champion Jimmy Kidd and Hunter's daughter, Holly Rae, on vocals. Sitting in tonight are Danny Pruett on acoustic bass and Tony Overstreet on guitar.
Later, in the area behind the stage, groups of musicians clog the hallways and stairwells, making music in impromptu groups wherever there's standing room.
In one hallway, Hunter breaks into "Precious Memories." She is joined by three guitars, a dobro, a bass, three fiddles, a harmonica and a banjo. Several onlookers sing along.
Occasionally someone tries to squeeze through the crowd, forcing observers to flatten themselves against a wall to make room.
In a nearby stairwell, Hurt has found another group to fiddle with.
Back on stage, it's nearly 11 and Pocket Change is finishing the last set of the evening. Jones slides up to the microphone and encourages them to play some traveling music.
Afterwards, in the hallways and dressing rooms, the musicians reluctantly call it a night.
"Well, I learn something every time I come down here," says one fiddle player." Gently, they lay their instruments in their cases, snap them shut, and walk toward the back door. Many of them will be back for this Saturday's meeting, ready to do it all over again.
by CNB