Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, March 27, 1992                   TAG: 9203270146
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: B1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Ed Shamy
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

THERE'S NO LAW AGAINST STRING PULLING

His, though, is not an entirely selfless gesture. Mason leaves his guitar case open at his feet. It's an invitation to pedestrians to contribute a coin or a dollar bill.

You get the music; Mason gets your money. Everybody's happy.

It isn't terribly controversial stuff. Some Neil Young. The Allman Brothers. Even "acousticized Metallica." Sometimes Mason plays an original. He writes his own soft-rock Christian folk and rock music.

Troubadours like Mason are a standard part of the urban scene in lots of cities, their sounds enriching the fabric of the streets. Mason has played the concrete stages of Washington, D.C., and Charlottesville.

Here, street musicians are unheard of. No telling how a Roanoker would react to a man on the sidewalk strumming a guitar.

One woman, years ago, saw Mason and his trusty old dog at his side.

"She pried my hands off the neck of my guitar and put a five-dollar bill in my hand," said Mason. "She thought I was blind."

Mason has played this gig before. Nine years ago, he played Roanoke's streets and was asked to leave.

Still, he has no problem with the cops who patrol the City Market on foot.

"I've been hustled along and asked to leave, but city police have been really, really kind," says Mason.

Mason moved away for a while. Recently, he returned. Now that the weather's warming, he fixes to go down to the City Market on weekends, open his case, and play a little guitar.

First, he asked permission. He called city hall.

The business permit-stampers in city hall looked up from their work, adjusted their bifocals, set down their quill pens and scratched their noggins.

A permit? To play music on the street? Hmmm. That's a new one.

They sent Mason on his telephonic way, upstairs to the city attorney's office.

There, says Mason, he got a quick legal opinion that boded poorly. A lawyer said he'd more thoroughly look at the code and call back.

Despite his legal limbo, Mason went to the market on Saturday and played. Nobody bothered him. Surprisingly, he made pretty good money, too.

Mason says he gave the money to the panhandlers and the winos who've lived on the market longer than the yuppies. Mason has a part-time job. He's eating. The others, the people with whom he shares the sidewalk, could use the change more than he.

This week we perused the city code. We found laws against obstructing the sidewalk. We found a law against outright begging. We found nothing outlawing sidewalk guitarists.

Wilburn Dibling, Roanoke's attorney, agreed with us.

"He's providing a service," said Dibling. "He's not begging. He's not a strong-armed panhandler. I don't see anything wrong with it."

No permit. No problem. Just a sidewalk and a guitar.

This place gets better every single day.