Art Bowman and the Demon of Mooreville By Jim McKinney © 2010 Jim McKinney All Rights Reserved As published in Fiddler Magazine, Fall 2011 edition, vol. 18, no. 3 Contact Jim McKinney at www.GoldenGriffonStringtet.com or stringtet@charter.net 734-753-TUNE P.O. Box 386 New Boston, MI 48164 Chapter 1 Art Bowman always said the best way to learn a tune was to transcribe it. That's why I was working on transcribing Louis Beaudoin's deliciously crooked Reel in D when Art called. He'd been asked to play for a dance at the old Maccabee's Hall in Mooreville and he wanted someone to go with him. I'd played for lots of dances with Art and I'd danced to his fiddling even more than that, so I knew he didn't need an accompanist. Art could provide all the music that any roomful of dancers would need with just his fiddle and his feet. Sometimes, folks think that more musicians is what it takes to make good dance music and sometimes that's true; many people playing at the same time can make an awfully exciting sound. It's been my experience, though, that the best dance music is made by a smaller group of the right musicians - the ones who know where the lift is, where the balances are, how to swing and that the spaces between the notes are just as important as the notes themselves. To my ears (and feet), the best of the right musicians was Art. I'd go a long way to listen to Art's fiddling and I'd go anywhere for a chance to play with him. It could have been that Art just wanted the company. Mooreville was a couple hours away and having someone to pass the time with always makes a trip seem shorter. It could have been, though, that Art just knew that this would be an occasion when it would be a good idea to have a partner go along with him. Frequently, the sensitivity and intuition that made Art such a good dance fiddler also showed up in other situations. It wasn't anything Art had any control over, it just happened. It could be a little weird at first but if you hung around with Art long enough, you got used to it. Art apologized for the late notice and asked if I could be ready to leave around four. He said "I haven't been to this hall before, Jim, and the more I think about it, the more I think it would be a good idea to have some back-up tonight." I said, "well, should I bring my Martin or my Smith & Wesson?" Art laughed and said "you never know when a pistol is going to come in handy but I think just the guitar will be sufficient tonight." I told him I'd be waiting on the front porch at four, hung up the phone and tried to finish notating Louis Beaudoin's third variation on Reel in D before it was time to go. Chapter 2 Art pulled up the driveway promptly at four and we left for Mooreville. We drove for about an hour, talking and catching up with each other before stopping at a little diner for a quick bite and a coffee to go. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, I asked Art how he came to get this gig. "I don't know," he answered. "The feller just called and said he was looking for the fiddle player. Said their regular fiddler couldn't make it and could I play fiddle for their dance tonight?" Art continued, "I told him I was a fiddle player and asked him what kind of dance he was having. Contra dance? Square dance? Family dance for children?" The caller had answered "We have a real old-time square dance; three changes of a quadrille followed by three round dances. There will be one mixer and probably a couple of contras. Some of the old dances and singing calls need their name tunes but most of the dances will work just fine with any 32 bar reel. We'll get started at 8:00, take a break about 10:00, then go at it again until midnight". Art told him he could play all the old tunes like Gilderoy, Rye Waltz, Tenstrike and Bully of the Town and would be happy to do it. I asked Art if he knew who the caller was. He said it was someone he'd never heard of before named Earvel Plunkett. I told him it didn't matter. "A dance is a dance and as long as he can count to eight, we can play for him." We drove and talked for another hour and soon pulled up in front of the old Maccabee's Hall. Chapter 3 It was about 7:00 and I have to say the emphasis was really on "old". There was more bare wood showing on the old clapboards than there was chipped paint, the grass hadn't been mowed since last summer, the decorative hedges had long since turned into small trees, the shutters were either missing or hanging by one hinge and I don't know which sagged in the middle the most-the gutters or the ridge pole still desperately trying to hold up the roof. Art double-checked his directions and address and said, "let's see what it looks like on the inside." We went in to find that all the efforts and expense that had been spared on the outside had been lavished on the inside. A spacious, hardwood dance floor, mahogany paneling, a built-in stage raised 24 inches above the dance floor, eight windows on each side of the hall and five ceiling fans-four over the dance floor and one over the stage. Even though we wouldn't be using it, the stage held an upright piano that was actually in tune. Art whistled. "Now this is a fine dance hall," he exclaimed. "Almost as nice as Lovett Hall" I agreed. Just then a fellow approached us from one of the doors beside the stage. "Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Earvel Plunkett. I'm the caller tonight." We introduced ourselves and Plunkett led us up to the stage. He explained that the washrooms and kitchen were downstairs and could be reached from either side of the stage and made it clear that we were to help ourselves to the bottled water in the refrigerator. Art and Plunkett talked, discussing tunes, dances and signals for finishing a dance or abandoning a dance if necessary. Art found out that Plunkett liked to do one walk-through, would start dances and set tempos with a four-count call and would frequently start dances with a little intro so he would need an extra 'A' part the first time through to accommodate that. Plunkett found out that Art liked to choose tunes that fit the balances in the dances, could add beats or phrases to keep the dancers with the phrases of the music if the caller directed him to do so and had an extensive repertoire of traditional and contemporary tunes to draw from. Plunkett looked towards the door and said "here's some of our early-birds to help get things ready. You fellers get set up and get warmed up. We'll start right at 8:00 with an easy one that everybody can do so I can see what kind of crowd we've got tonight." Chapter 4 The hall filled up fast with a large, mixed group of dancers. Old farmers, middle-aged professionals, families with kids in tow and young people from the local colleges arrived and greeted each other. Some folks changed their shoes and others just wiped their feet on the mat inside the door. Most stood around the edges, visiting, while a few moved to the center of the floor to teach their friends a balance and swing, dosey-do or waltz step. Art and I took our seats and made sure our instruments were in tune. Art said "how about a polka to warm things up?" I said, "hit it" and Art launched into Emma's Pride. The folks that started in right away made it around the spacious floor once before Plunkett stepped up to the mic and said "find a partner and make a great big circle around the floor." Plunkett had everyone turn the circle to the left and then back to the right, then he had everyone face their partner and dosey do, allemande right, allemande left and promenade. He turned to Art and said "play Liberty Two-Step twice then stop. I'll start you out with a four-count call." Plunkett turned to the dancers and said with a very firm rhythm "Join Hands and Circle Left". The dancers went through the figures twice when Plunkett stopped them and walked them through a grand right and left. He had us play Liberty four more times as he incorporated the new figure into the dance. When the music stopped, he called two dancers by name and asked them to demonstrate a walk-around swing and had everyone try it out. Then he called two more dancers by name, and asked them to demonstrate a buzz-step swing and had everyone try that out. Then he started the dance again and had us play until everyone got back to their original partner, cheering in surprise and delight when they recognized that familiar face. Once more through the tune and that was it. Plunkett said, "keep that partner and form square sets. Four couples in a set like the sides of a box." I leaned over to Art and said, "that was pretty clever. In 10 minutes he taught the basics to every beginner and helped them polish their moves by practicing with a variety of partners. Now the whole room will enjoy the 'real' first dance because everyone has a better idea of what to expect and stands a much greater chance of doing it successfully. With the added benefit of already having 'met' everyone else in the room." The next dance was a simple visiting-couple square; a chance for everyone to use all the figures they had just learned in a new configuration. It was easy, fun and fast-paced. We played an old Les Raber tune that didn't have a name. In the next dance, Plunkett taught them right and left hand stars and the ladies chain. Art watched the figures then leaned over to me and said, "we'll play that old tune of Stewart Carmichael's." Plunkett turned to us and said, "any good first change'll do. I'll start you out with a four-count call. Ready?" Art winked at me and said "you bet" and off we went. This dance used all the same basic figures and had everybody changing partners until they finally got back to their original partner. Once again, cheering and great laughter accompanied the meeting of original partners. The dance finished and that was end of the first tip. We played Peek-A-Boo Waltz, Rochester Schottische and Sally Waters for our round dances and got ready for the next tip. Chapter 5 That's how the first half of the dance went; three squares or contras or longways set dances alternating with three round dances. Some dances introduced new figures while other dances were just fun, using the skills that people knew or were learning in interesting combinations. Everybody was having a great time and seemed almost disappointed to stop when break time came. Art and I took advantage of the short break to stretch our legs and get a cup of coffee. I mentioned to Art that Plunkett was an interesting caller. "He really knows how to drive those dancers," I said. Art agreed. "He knows his stuff. He reads the floor well, knows a lot of dances and knows how to stack them to progress the beginners while keeping things interesting for the old-hands." "His sing-y, chant-y style adds a lot of drive to the dances," I said. "Maybe a little too much drive" responded Art. "Sometimes it starts feeling more like church revival than a square dance." I thought Plunkett had an easy, comfortable style of calling, but I could see Art's point. Sometimes Plunkett would just prompt the figure before the phrase of the music. Sometimes he would fill up the musical phrase with 'hash' or 'patter'; rhyming nonsense that entertained the listeners and inactive dancers. In every case though, he managed to match the tone of his voice to the key of the tune. He didn't exactly sing the calls but he was familiar enough with the tunes to shape his chants in a simple kind of counter melody. His style added to the fun and excitement of the dance and even provided some additional drive beyond what came from Art's fiddling. That extra drive did have a feel to it as if he was pushing the dancers. Pushing the dancers to what, I'm not sure of, but they were engaged, excited and eager to cut the break short in order to resume dancing. By that measure alone it was already the most successful dance I'd ever been to and we were only halfway through. Plunkett found us and said "play a short hambo or a polka and we'll get started again." Chapter 6 I was pleased to see that most of the dancers had stayed through the break for the second half of the dance. The room was nearly full and the energy level was still really high so Plunkett started the next dance right where the last one had left off; in high gear and headed for overdrive. He was pushing the dancers and they were enthusiastically responding to the challenge. He asked us to play The Growling Old Man And The Grumbling Old Woman. The dancers loved the change of key from minor to major and let us know with their shouting. From that point on, Plunkett abandoned the three-dance tip and started calling straight through, one dance after another. He also stopped letting us choose the tunes and started asking for particular tunes by name. There was nothing wrong with his judgment because all the tunes matched the dances perfectly, but the longer we played, the wilder and more intense the dances and the tunes became. We played Tenstrike, Cello, Old Gray Cat and Forked Deer, all of which drove the dancers to a fever pitch. They were shouting, twirling, clapping and stomping on all the balances. Plunkett's calling was goading them, daring them to dance wilder and wilder. Art looked at me and said "I don't know where this is headed but I'm starting to get a dark feeling about this dance." I was just about to agree that things didn't feel quite right when Plunkett turned to us and said "play The Devil's Dream." Chapter 7 Now, I love that tune and have played it and accompanied it hundreds of times, but never like this. Even though the tune is in A major, Plunkett's chant was dark, aggressive and suggestive, drawing the melody in a different direction. Up 'til now, Plunkett's calling had been driving the dancers, shaping their actions and movements until he got the response he desired. Now, it felt as though his chanting was directed at me and Art, prodding us to change the melody to fit the pitch of the calls. Naturally, as attentive musicians will do, Art and I looked at each other and tried to match what we heard going on. Art lowered the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees of the melody a half step and I changed chords from A major to A minor. The dancers heard the change and responded with hoots and hollers and it felt like the room filled up with a living electric current looking for a way to discharge itself. Art lowered the second scale degree of the melody a half step to complement the lowered sixth and I played a B flat chord instead of the usual B minor. That electric feeling in the air seemed to pierce everyone at once and it sounded like every dancer in the room gasped at the same time. The entire room transformed from a dance into something that felt a lot more like a ritual. Art and I had been led into playing a menacing version of a powerful tune while Plunkett was chanting his calls with a dark intonation that was infecting everyone in the room. Dances are supposed to foster a sense of community spirit and joint enterprise but this dance had gone way beyond that. The dancers were dancing together in a way I had never seen before. The entire room was dancing as a unit. Every step of every person was exactly on the beat, creating a powerful rhythm that pulsed through the entire room. The hooting and hollering had also stopped and had been replaced by a low, minor tone hum from the dancers. Plunkett held his hands out over them while maintaining his dark chant. Art and I continued playing a demented version of Devil's Dream; too afraid to go on but too fascinated to stop. I looked from Art to my guitar to the center of the dance floor and saw a haze floating over the heads of the dancers. Art looked at me and said "maybe you should have brought that pistol after all, Jim." Chapter 8. I've been to lots of barn dances and dusty old dance halls and I've seen the dancers kick up plenty of dust. Usually, you don't even notice it unless you step outside the hall during the dance and then look back in, but the swirling haze that was taking shape over the dancer's heads tonight was different. The dust, the music and Plunkett's chanting all seemed to combine with the figurative 'community spirit' of the dance to create a literal entity that was taking shape on the dance floor. The haze was getting thicker and more substantial. It was becoming less susceptible to the air currents in the hall and was billowing out of some unseen source. A faint shape of a vaguely human figure was beginning to become visible in the cloud. Art and I looked at each other, not believing what we were seeing. I asked Art if he had ever seen anything like that. He said "never in my life." I said "I'm afraid, Art. We've got to get out of here." He replied "I'm way ahead of you, Jim, but I can't stop playing." I said "what do you mean you can't stop? Let's just go." Art said "I already tried it. That thing somehow won't let me stop." Chapter 9 I suddenly realized that we were talking pretty freely for musicians who were fully engaged in our performance. Usually, it's all I can do to yell out "switch", or "one more" or "going out" when I'm playing and here I was, effortlessly carrying on a full conversation. I tried to stop playing and found that I couldn't either. I could still choose to vary the rhythms and bass runs I wanted to play but I couldn't stop playing. I was compelled to continue to play to support the dance and the growth of the entity swirling over the dancers heads. The regular rhythm of the music, the rhythmic chant of the caller and the incessant thump of the dancers feet were all working together to feed and encourage the thing that Plunkett had called into existence and there was nothing I could do to stop it unless I could somehow disrupt that cooperative effort. I didn't know where tonight's events were headed but I didn't like the control that the thing was already exerting over us so I knew I had to try something. I asked Art if he was still able to play variations in his fiddling and he said he was so I said "let's try something before that thing gets any stronger." Art said "what are you thinking?" I said "if we have to keep playing, let's play something that interrupts the rhythm that seems to be feeding that thing. Maybe a crooked tune. Try and switch into Beaudoin's Reel in D." Art said "we'll do it next time around." Normally, a crooked tune or a tune with extra beats or measures wouldn't ever be played for a regular 32 bar, 64 beat dance. Dancers depend on the four, eight or sixteen beat musical phrases to help them keep their place in the dance and the extra beats of a crooked tune would get everyone out of sync with each other. Tonight, we were hoping that's exactly what would happen and that it would disrupt the 'community spirit' causing it to release it's hold on us and hopefully, dissipate. Chapter 10 There are lots of crooked tunes but Beaudoin's Reel was fresh in my mind because that's what I had been working on that afternoon when Art called. Since we couldn't stop playing, I didn't know if we'd be able to change keys or change tunes. I wasn't even sure that playing a crooked tune would have any effect on Plunkett or his creation but I knew if we didn't do something, that thing was going to get stronger and soon we wouldn't be able to do anything. The end of Devil's Dream came around and we switched into Beaudoin's Reel. I don't know if Plunkett was too far into his trance to notice or maybe the hazy creature forming in the middle of the room wasn't strong enough to stop us or maybe they just thought it was another variation but we made the switch with no problem. At first, nothing happened, so the key change didn't appear to disturb Plunkett or his creation, but as soon as we played the first irregular phrase, things seemed to get worse. Plunkett started chanting louder, trying to hold everything together with the sound of his voice. Art and I just looked at each other, tuned out the dancers and concentrated on playing that crooked tune for all we were worth. The dancers started humming louder and stomping harder trying to stay together and that's when everything really started to fall apart. Because the tune was crooked, everyone started trying to adjust to continue dancing on the phrase, but because it was a Beaudoin tune it was never crooked the same way twice, so no one could predict where the musical phrases would start or end, let alone adjust to dance with them. The dancers fell apart, all stepping and stomping in different places, finally losing the beat completely. Without the music and the dancers to support it, the 'community spirit' began to fade. Plunkett tried to keep things going, calling to one group and then another but eventually the lack of a predictable phrase caused him to stop calling all together. At that point, the hazy, misty force over the center of the dance floor disappeared completely. Dancers started milling about, wandering around the dance floor, going for drinks or looking for new partners. Plunkett was trying to get things re-organized, calling for folks to form squares for the next dance. Art and I had already thrown our instruments into their cases and were headed for the door. I don't know if or how they ever did another dance and I didn't care. We didn't even wait to get paid before we left. Epilogue Art and I talked about the dance on the way home, making sure we had both seen and felt the same things and each making sure the other hadn't suffered any unexpected side effects from our experience. We thought we ought to report our experience to someone but we didn't think anyone would believe us. In the weeks that followed, we asked different dancers, musicians, callers and organizers about their experiences out at Maccabee's Hall in Mooreville but no one had anything unusual to report. Except that no one had ever heard of a caller named Earvel Plunkett. Art and I continue to play together whenever we have the chance. And we always make sure to play a crooked tune for our warm-up. And at the break. And before we leave. Art Bowman and the Demon of Mooreville By Jim McKinney © 2010 Jim McKinney All Rights Reserved As published in Fiddler Magazine, Fall 2011 edition, vol. 18, no. 3 Contact Jim McKinney at www.GoldenGriffonStringtet.com or stringtet@charter.net 734-753-TUNE P.O. Box 386 New Boston, MI 48164