Country Music: Oasis for Fiddlin' Buffs

The 125 folks who live in Union Grove, N.C.— that's between Harmony Love Valley, not far from the Brushy Mountains — believe in being right nice to outsiders. So, when thousands of visitors stream into town on Easter weekend for the annual Old Time Fiddlers' Convention, the residents go all out to accommodate them. Farmer Herman Speece lets herds of autos crowd the cows off his pasture. The boys at the firehouse move the truck out so that people who find it too cold in their cars or tents can spend the night on the firehouse floor. The ladies of the P.T.A. serve home-cooked country ham, chicken and cake at the school. And if the guests get to roughhousing, hooting, doing clog dances and even drinking a little—why, nobody much minds. "They can run around in circles and climb a tree if they want to," says Chief Deputy Sheriff R. L. Warren. "It's all open here."

Bibs & Nazi Helmets. It's been open since 1924, which makes Union Grove's convention one of the oldest as well as the most typical in the South. Last week it drew a record crowd of 14,000 dressed in everything from Sunday best to overalls, pigtails, Carnaby Street suits, miniskirts and chromed Nazi helmets. A succession of 81 bands—most of them gifted amateurs out of regional coves and hollers—competed in the school auditorium and gymnasium and a nearby revival tent. In addition, a passel of noncompeting performers fiddled, sang or plucked banjos wherever they could scare up an audience—in the classrooms that were used for warm-up rooms, in the parking lots, in the shadow of the tent. Everywhere the air was filled with the dum-ditty-dum-dum rhythms, sprightly scraping and mournful droning of such classic Appalachian ditties as Jimmy Crack Corn, Tom Dooley and John Henry.

In its purest "oldtime" form, the music echoed the authentic Scotch-Irish folk heritage of the area. This is the style that has been passed from generation to generation on isolated farms where music is about the only recreation that doesn't smack of sin. The group that won the $25 prize as the best oldtime band, the Blue Ridge Boys of Winston-Salem, N.C., learned all of their music "from relatives" and are duly modest about their accomplishments: asked why he though the band had won, Banjoist Paul Idol replied Well, we all started on a tune exactly at the same time, and we stopped exactly at the same time,"

Engulfed by Bluegrass. With the encroachments of records, radio and TV, the oldtime music is inevitably giving way to "modern," or "bluegrass"—a slicker, more heterogeneous style influenced by big-city commercial pros. "We are being engulfed by bluegrass," lamented one of the judges at Union Grove last week. But if the fiddlers' convention can do nothing about the dilution of folk traditions, it can at least draw the line somewhere. Brass instruments and drums are forbidden, and Convention Organizer J. P. Van Hoy says: "Some people a few years ago tried to play rock 'n' roll. We throwed them out on their ears."