The Thursday Night Pickin’ Circle

By Joseph S. Bonsall

The farm and acreage that Mary and I own sit right on the Kentucky / Tennessee border. In fact, the State Line runs right in front of the house. The house sits back a bit from the foot of the driveway that leads down into the holler. The holler is the centerpiece of the property. I like to tell people that they can eat dinner in Tennessee and go to bed in Kentucky, however, that is somewhat of a stretch because our humble home actually sits entirely in the Commonwealth of KAIN-TUCK-EE!

Geographically speaking, we actually live in the small town of Bugtussle, Kentucky.

Lafayette, Tennessee, is 14 miles to the southwest of us, and the Monroe County seat of Tomkinsville, Kentucky, is approximately 14 miles northeast of us. However, in between my farm and T’Ville as the locals call it, sits the little town of Gamaliel, Kentucky. That is where this little story takes place.

Now Gamaliel is about seven miles from our farm in the Bugtussle holler and is pronounced GA-MAIL-YA (although someone just passing through could never guess that). It looks like GA-MA-LEEL....... or GA-MELL....... or GA-MEAL. ANYTHING but GA-MAIL-YA. 

My neighbor Harold runs a convenient store and gas station in Gamaliel, right next to the Dollar General. There are also a small IGA store, a Farmers Supply Depot, and several restaurants, which feature either barbecue or good, down home country cooking, “Meat and three’s,” as they are known in the South.

Mary and I and the grandkids just love to drive up to the Gamaliel Diner for a big, country breakfast, featuring the finest pancakes in Kentucky! Then we will usually fill up my Diesel containers at Harold's store, top off the truck, and pick up some sweet feed for my donkeys and corn for my deer at the Farm Supply.

Right next to the aforementioned Gamaliel Diner, there is a furniture store. Across the street are a bank and the brand new elementary school. This school, like the relatively new Monroe County Junior and Senior High Schools in T’Ville, were built by our tax dollars and grants from the Kentucky State Lottery. Nice to see that all of those losing Powerball tickets account for SOMETHING....... and anyone will tell you....... these schools are beautiful.

To the left of the bank, sitting back a few yards from the road, is the City Hall / Senior Center, and that is where I spent almost four hours of my life this past Thursday evening. I had always heard that a bunch of old pickers gathered there on Thursdays, and I had always meant to stop by. But two things have prevented me from doing so. The Oaks schedule AND....... I will admit it....... I was chicken. Well, actually, just not confident enough in my banjo playing to enter a room full of pickers and sit in on the jam. However, this past week I WAS in town on Thursday, I WAS at the farm, and I WAS actually feeling pretty good about my playing!

I had run out to the farm the night before because I had some equipment coming in from John Deere that had been serviced for me. Tractors and cutters and weedeaters and Gators all prepared and ready for the rest of 2006! I spent the rest of that afternoon cleaning up flood debris from three pastures. It is important to at least get the big WOOD off the fields so when grass starts growing they are not concealed. That can be a disaster for a rotary cutter blade later in the year.

Now, good old Salt Lick Creek WILL flood again several times this spring, I am certain, and that is why I don’t try to get every little thing cleaned up. These are HUGE pastures so just the big stuff is handled....... like a tree trunk or huge branches or a family of four sitting at a breakfast table.

I dragged myself into the house around 4 PM, took a shower, and called Mary who was in Hendersonville nursing a bad cold. I told her I was considering running up to Gamaliel and pickin' at the City Hall, and she encouraged me to do so. 

“You have always wanted to do it, so go on,” she said. “I will see you in the morning!”

The approval of the WIFE is always IMPORTANT!

So, I threw the old Banjer in the truck and drove on up to GAM-ALE-YA (yet a different phonetic spelling........)!

I could hear the pickin’ as I was walking up the steps, and the volume sort of grew to a crescendo when I opened the door....... what a sound it was. Sitting there in a big circle were senior citizens, men and woman, all pickin’ and singin’. I would guess there were about ten guitar players, three mandolins, four fiddles, and one wonderful old Banjo player.

It was just beautiful.

Sitting all around behind the circle were groups of people, who were eating snacks and listening. After the song, they all looked at me. Many recognized me as one “OF THE,” however most did not.

Someone said, “Well son, just put some money in the cup, sign in, and pull up a chair!”

There was a long table filled with all kinds of food and drinks. Kind of like a potluck church social.

I put some money in the Styrofoam cup, signed my name on the sheet, grabbed a folding chair, and placed it strategically across from Mr. Ray, who had been pickin’ Banjer for over fifty years. He immediately became my hero.

I am just a student and a work in progress who has been playing banjo for only three years, four months, twelve days, and about six hours. I thanked everyone for the sincere welcome and promised not to get in the way.

My 58 years made me, by far, the youngest one in the room except for a young boy of about nine years old. He didn’t sing or pick but would break out into a dancing jig every once in a while, much to the delight of all.

Everyone took turns singing. Most of the singing and playing was really quite good (and some of it was really not). However, the feeling that was put into every note of every song should be witnessed by every professional, jaded musician on the planet.

Everything was so informal. Someone would say....... “How about Bile Them

Cabbage Down,” and a fiddle player would yell, “KEY OF A,” proceed to kick it off, and away we would all go. I was able to hold my own pretty good on Foggy Mountain Breakdown, Cripple Creek, Cumberland Gap, and most ALL of the Gospel songs. I even took a little solo ride on Poor Reuben in D Tuning, which I have been practicing for months. But other than that, I would just find a little texture roll or stroke a lick or two, or just chunk and watch Mr. Ray, whose old fingers danced up and down the neck like Earl himself. Sometimes one would sing alone and other times everyone sang....... in full voice, too! It was something to behold.

It went on and on.......

“Sing one, Doris!” 

“OK....... Looking For A City in G.”

Then Doris would hammer on her guitar and take off singing.

“How bout you, Jim?”

“All right then....... How bout a little Rollin’ In My Sweet Baby’s Arms....... key of E.”

Boom....... away everyone went, following Jim’s lead vocal and mandolin....... in E!

Conversation.......

“What kind of banjo is that, son?”

“It’s a Deering, sir!”

“Well, Stelling DOES make a fine Banjer.”

“Well, this one is a Deering. It’s their top of the line Tenbrooks model, sir.”

“Yessiree Bob....... my own Daddy played a Stelling....... sounds good!”

What fun!!!

The highlight of the night, though, was when a very elderly fiddle player who must have been close to ninety started to play Blue Moon Of Kentucky. He slowly stood up and began to fiddle. For a while everyone just listened to him play, but eventually everyone joined in pickin’. The tempo was slow and reverent. Then someone started to sing and soon everyone in the room was singing, including the folks who were gathered in chairs in the corner or standing along the wall....... and even those who were making sandwiches at the food table. The emotion was overwhelming. There was not a dry eye in the room. In fact, tears were actually flowing down people’s cheeks. The song lasted for a good ten minutes, and when it ended you could have heard a pin drop.

An old fellow cradling a mandolin turned to me and asked, “Did you ever get to meet Bill Monroe?”

I said, “Yes, sir, on quite a few occasions. In fact, The Oak Ridge Boys once recorded a version of Blue Moon Of Kentucky with him and his Bluegrass Boys.”

It was if I told him that I had just bought him a condo in Fort Myers or that, perhaps, I had in my possession a secret potion that might heal that arthritis in his picking hand. He got up, grabbed me by the shoulder, and hugged me.

“I just loved that man,” he whispered. “Must have been a real honor for you!”

I assured him through my own tears....... that is was, indeed!

I stayed there in the pickin’ circle for four hours. Once in a while a few would leave and a few different ones would come in and take their place, but around ten o’clock or so, more and more folks were putting their instruments in their case, grabbing a snack, and heading for home.

I gave Mr. Ray a set of John Pearse Strings for his banjo. Most of our bunch uses these strings, and I thought he might enjoy them. He shook my hand and said, “Come on back and pick with us again sometime!”

I assured him that I would.

Those gathered in the Pickin’ Circle played music as it is supposed to be played. From the heart and from the soul and for the sheer enjoyment of playing, no matter how technically correct it may or may NOT have been. I believe that is why God gave us music to begin with. I am certain that even ol' David must have hit a clam or two on his little harp. Well...... maybe not!

Fact is, I will never forget these fine people for letting me be a part of their world for a night. I fear that many of these old folks may not have many Thursday nights left, but who can make that call. I may not have many left either.

Over the rest of this year, I am quite certain that, God willing, I will spend a lot of my Thursday evenings singing my heart out with The Oak Ridge Boys. Perhaps in your own town. But, rest assured, a piece of my heart will be in Gamaliel, Kentucky, at the City Hall, sitting in a big Pickin’ Circle with some of the finest people I have ever met! 

May God bless every one of them!

Kick one off on the Banjer, Mr. Ray!!!