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Other men not known to my family
By: Sandy Williams Driver
My maternal grandfather, Ruben Champion Morrow, could "pick the taters off the vine" when he held a banjo across his knee and moved his fingers effortlessly across the five metal strings. As far as I know, he never had any real lessons, but he sure could play a rowdy rendition of "Boilin' Cabbage Down" on his shiny, wooden instrument ordered long ago from the Sears and Roebuck catalog with coins leftover from the cotton crop.
The banjo originated in Africa and was brought to America by black slaves in the 17th century. Minstrel-show troupes began using the banjo in the 19th century and the instrument grew in popularity with country and bluegrass bands in the 1920s.
Bluegrass music usually featured a banjo, a fiddle and a mandolin in the lead parts with a guitar and string bass providing accompaniment. One of the founding fathers of the lively music was Bill Monroe and his Bluegrass Boys Band. Their legendary banjo picker was Earl Scruggs, whose three-fingered picking style is now very common among banjo players and his high-spirited playing in the band led to the addition of the banjo as one of the most important instruments of the bluegrass sound.
In the 1930s through the 1950s, my grandpa played the banjo in a bluegrass band on Sand Mountain in northern Alabama. According to my mother, the five rugged men provided entertainment for local barn dances and picnics as well as church socials and family gatherings. One of the most common events they provided music for was at a country gathering called a "house dance."
At these get-togethers, a local resident invited friends and neighbors over, usually on a Saturday night, for an evening of live, old-time music and a few hours of dancing, often called "jigging." Most of the furniture was moved from the largest room of the house to accommodate the festivities, which sometimes lasted until the wee hours of the morning.
The women provided delicious homemade treats for the evening such as fried apple pies and golden pound cakes and their men folk supplied the beverages from copper stills hidden deep behind their clapboard houses.
Local gossip was swapped and many courtships blossomed during the events. Those few hours of respite from the scorching cotton fields and a world filled with war and poverty was enjoyed by residents of all ages, from young children, who roamed the surrounding countryside, to aging grandparents, who sat quietly in rockers lined up under nearby shade trees.
My grandfather's band dispersed long before I was born, but I remember sitting outside with him as the sweet sounds of bluegrass music flowed from his treasured banjo and drifted through the honeysuckle laced air. He poured his heart and soul into every tune he played and sang on those long ago afternoons and the haunting music filled my soul with warmth.
Grandpa sat boldly on his small front porch in downtown Albertville and generously shared the high-spirited melodies of days gone by with an audience of amused neighbors, curious passengers in vehicles whizzing by and a little girl with a glowing face whose feet tapped in a steady rhythm of admiration for one of her greatest heroes.
There was a twinkle in his eye and a smile across his lips when my grandpa picked up the banjo and everyone could easily see his love of music. Even though he never received any outstanding recognition for his natural talent, I just bet he could have held his own in a round of "Dueling Banjos" with Earl Scruggs any old day. Well, at least in a round of "Boilin' Cabbage Down."
© Sandy Williams Driver
Published April 04 by U.S. Legacies