Music Before the Money

In 1962 the folk era was roaring and I knew every word to Sloop John B, Tom Dooley and Lord of the Dance. I would spend hours up at Frank Goodwin’s house where he taught his son, Kent, and I to play folk songs. Frank was one of the “Lost Dog Singers,” a take-off of The Journeymen, Kingston Trio and many other folk groups around at the time.

Frank’s instrument of choice was the baritone ukulele, which resembled a small guitar. This instrument was championed by ukulele impresario, Arthur Godfrey, who used to play one on his TV show. The tuning for this instrument is like the top 4 strings of a guitar: E, B, G, D. However, Frank tuned his to the regular tenor banjo tuning of C, G, D, A and taught us to play the chords of the tenor banjo.

Unlike the regular 5-string banjo the tenor banjo has four strings, a shorter neck of 17-19 frets and is tuned in fifths, just like the mandolin or fiddle, though not necessarily at the same pitch. It was not plucked but played with a pick and became the underlying sound in Vaudeville, British Music Hall, Dixieland Jazz and Ragtime. Later that year my Dad came home with a 4-string Harmony banjo and I spent the next year jamming with the Goodwins. Then they moved away and my banjo went into the closet. When the Beatles came out I had no interest in folk songs and picked up the bass (remember my infamous Kent axe!).

But I still appreciate a good tenor banjo player. They are amazing to watch because the melody is in the chords and the strumming adds the percussion. I don’t have the banjo any more but I still have a Roy Smeck banjo book.

And I believe the Lost Dog Singers are still going!

A reviewer of one of my books gave me a sharp lesson regarding the characterizing. Despite the fact that he slaughtered the novel in the biggest newspaper in the area there was one line that caught my attention. He said he wondered in what petrified forest I found my characters. The rest was ill-spirited blather but his one line resonated with me. I re-read the novel and found that I could have been more descriptive with regard to some of the personages. As well, I found instances where I over-explained characters that turned out to be minor players.

In a book I read on being a writer I found a passage that has since resonated with me. “We have to know the occupants in the car before we can appreciate the crash.” In other words, if we read in a newspaper that a car full of people went off a cliff and everyone died it would sadden us for a moment. But if that car belonged to our next door neighbor we would be devastated by the news. This is because, obviously, we have built up a connection to the guy next door and we don’t personally know the fist bunch. We have emotion invested.

Build your characters as you would a relationship, slowly weaving the pieces together until you feel that he/she and you could have a meaningful conversation. Some authors feel a deep sense of loss when they finish their novels because they have created entities that are now a part of their lives. The reader can feel this, as well. Sequels of popular movies go over well because they want to see the characters live again.

Try this: Read a new book and see how long it takes the author to form a picture in you head. Then go back and mark down the page numbers where the descriptions take place. Try this with other books and you will see how the actual “birth” of the character takes place. It’s just another referencing aid to see how other authors piece together their characters.

Building characters is a personal endeavor, and part of the the fun of writing is to develop them in your own style so that the reader feels loss when the car goes over the cliff.

And keep clear of petrifying situations.

“Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

In my freshman year at university I had a wall full of posters, some psychedelic that came out you when the black light was turned on and others thoughtful. Maybe it was show people that I had another, more thoughtful side bedsides my eighteen year-old male foolishness. There was the great one of Chief Sitting Bull stating, “I will fight no more forever.” The movie, “Little Big Man” was fresh in my mind. But the one I remember most was a poster with the poem “Desiderata.”

Desiderata is Latin for “Things to be Desired” and was written by Max Ehrmann in 1927. But for some reason I thought it was a scribbling from from some Medieval monk. I guess this was because it sounded like it came from Shakespeare’s time.

The only other verse - besides the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm - that sticks with me is Rudyard Kipling’s “If.” I guess it’s the beginning of both pieces that helped me to remember them. The Kipling verse begins, ” If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you . . .”

Kipling wrote “If” in 1895 after Dr Leander Starr Jameson led about 500 British militiamen in a failed raid against the Boers in southern Africa. The Boers were descendents of the original Ducth colonists who were resisting British rule. The Jameson Raid was later cited as a major factor in bringing about the Boer War of 1899 to 1902. Although a defeat, Jameson’s encounter was interpreted as a victory in Britain and it is said that Kipling was riding on the bandwagon when he wrote it. Still, “If” is a great verse.

And the ending speaks for itself, ” Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!

Although a bit chauvinistic it’s good mana to feed your brain.