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8/31/26
“Lester & Earl, Cousin Jake & Crocodile Tears”
I grew up in a musically bilingual home. Though we spoke only English, Mom and Daddy were conversant in two separate and distinct musical languages. Mom listened to the pop singers, especially Sinatra, while Daddy liked hillbilly music, a genre that included a variety of rural Southern styles until it was split apart by marketers and scholars into “Country & Western,” “Bluegrass,” “Western Swing,” and “Rockabilly.” I think that split occurred before the time of this story, but our family was blissfully unaware of the schism. Both parents spun records daily, especially during evening meals. I was exposed to the music they loved, every day, and came to love both musical languages. They owned only about about twenty-five or thirty records, which meant there were plenty of repeats, which also meant that I heard those records enough times to learn most of the songs on them by heart.
Among Daddy’s favorite artists was Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys. Their records got more than their fair share of repeats. Mom, who rarely complained about anything, couldn’t hold back her annoyance when the family was graced with Lester & Earl’s “Foggy Mountain Banjo” album three times in a week. After that rare outburst, Daddy wisely kept silent while she spun Sinatra and Tony Bennett multiple times.
In the car, we listened to the hillbilly station, WDON. As driver, Daddy exercised his prerogative to choose his favorite music, which didn’t include Sinatra. And so it happened that one day, while in the car, we learned from deejay Tom Cat Reeder that Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs and the Foggy Mountain Boys would be performing in the Spanish Ballroom at Glen Echo Amusement Park the following Sunday afternoon. Daddy turned up the radio, hoping for more details, but The Old Tom Cat only spun another record. Immediately upon walking into the house, Daddy called the station. Tom Cat himself answered and told him the ticket price, which was probably Daddy’s main concern, as there wasn’t any spare money in those days. After that call, Mom and Daddy decided that it was actually going to happen. We were going! I think I was permitted to go because of my obvious excitement when we heard Tom Cat’s announcement on the car radio.
My level of enthusiasm ramped up as the big day approached. Daddy played that “Foggy Mountain Banjo” album again, without further objection from Mom, who vicariously shared our joy. But she had absolutely no desire to see the hillbillies. So, on a Sunday in April of 1963, Daddy, Uncle Jon, Uncle Dick, and I piled into our Nash Rambler and headed for Glen Echo. Daddy brought along his “Foggy Mountain Banjo” album, in hopes of getting it autographed.
When we entered the Spanish Ballroom, there were a considerable number of empty seats, which Daddy attributed to the lack of details furnished by Tom Cat on the radio. I don’t know about that, but I do know that a few minutes before the show started, none other than The Old Tom Cat himself came on stage to let us know that the house wouldn’t be cleared between shows and we could stay all afternoon. Hallelujah!
Then it started. Here came Lester, Earl, and the boys! Paul Warren started it off with a fiddle tune, then without pause, Earl kicked off “Blue Ridge Cabin Home,” which I knew by heart from Daddy’s record. They played quite a few I didn’t know, because we didn’t have their newer albums, but that was a bonus to me – new material. And Earl actually played “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” right in front of me! And it seemed like Lester was talking just to me. I now know that that’s the mark of a great emcee, but it seemed as though he was looking right at me. After an hour of spectacular music, they wound up the show with the “Martha White Theme” and another fiddle tune. I suppose you’re wondering how, at the age of six, I committed these details to memory. I reckon it’s because attending that show was the most wondrous event of my childhood.
There was an hour’s break when they would have cleared the house for a new audience, had there been enough ticket sales. The band had a portable store that we musicians call a merch table. Daddy said, “Let’s get the record autographed.” He, Uncle Jon, who was still a teenager, and I, started for the table. Uncle Dick stayed behind to save our seats. Daddy asked the Foggy Mountain bass player, Cousin Jake, who was minding the store, if Lester and Earl would autograph his record. Jake apologetically said, “Sorry, they’ll only sign records you buy here.” Dejected, we went back to our seats. I don’t think Daddy could afford to buy anything.
A few minutes later, Daddy shoved the record at me and said, “Go back up there and cry.” I understood, went back to the table, looked as sad as I could for a moment, and started bawling, saying “We came all this way,” (about ten miles) and “Mama’s sick and couldn’t come,” and so on. Jake said, “I’ll see what I can do for you, son.” He disappeared backstage with the record and a few minutes later, came back with the signatures of Lester, Earl, Paul Warren, Uncle Josh Graves, and Jake had even signed it. I don’t know why Curly Seckler’s autograph wasn’t present. I didn’t know the difference then. I got pats on the back from Daddy and my uncles and was the hero of the day. The second show was mildly disappointing for the grownups, as the Boys did the same songs over again. I didn’t care, as it gave me the opportunity to learn some of the lyrics. I will never forget that day.
Some fifty years after that marvelous day, I came across the autographed record in my collection and passed it on to a young banjo prodigy who framed it and hung it on his bedroom wall.
Photos
1. Me in 1963 on the steps of Grandma’s house, pouting, as I did for Cousin Jake.
2. The Foggy Mountain Boys at about the time of their appearance at Glen Echo.
3. The “Foggy Mountain Banjo” album – not THE copy, as I no longer own it.
Tom Mindte
August, 2026
Me in 1963 on the steps of Grandma’s house, pouting, as I did for Cousin Jake.
The Foggy Mountain Boys at about the time of their appearance at Glen Echo.
The “Foggy Mountain Banjo” album. Not THE copy, as I no longer own it.