On February 9, 1889, Norman Edmonds was born in Wythe County, Virginia. Edmonds recorded four songs at the 1927 Bristol Sessions, playing fiddle alongside J. P. Nester’s singing and banjo on “Train on the Island,” “Black-Eyed Susie,” John, My Lover,” and “Georgia.” Their version of “Train on the Island” was included on Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Music in 1952.
Only two sides from the Sessions recordings were released (“Train on the Island” and “Black-Eyed Susie”), but Ralph Peer was impressed with their sound, a wonderful throwback to earlier stringbands that were made up of just fiddle and banjo together. Peer invited them up to New York City – all expenses paid – to record further; however, Nester refused to leave his Blue Ridge Mountains home and so a continuation of their partnership “on record” didn’t happen.
Edmonds, who played the fiddle in the “old-time” way, where he held it against his chest rather than underneath his chin, may not have gotten another chance to record in the 1920s and 1930s, but his fame as a fiddler saw him become a local star in his later years. He performed at the Galax Old Fiddler’s Convention (amongst others), played on several LPs made in Galax and also one for independent label Davis Unlimited, and had his very own radio show called The Old Timers.
As with so many traditional musicians, whose music and instruments were passed down through the generations, Edmonds learned his playing from his father, who learned it from his father. And today, Edmonds’ grandson Jimmy Edmonds of Galax, Virginia, has also come to music and instrument building the old-fashioned way: through his family. He is a 5th-generation Edmonds fiddle player – he started playing at four years old, picking up other instruments along the way – and his father was a luthier who passed on his skills, tools, and craftsmanship to his son. Jimmy started off helping his father repair instruments and working on finishes, moving on to making his first fiddle under the encouragement of luthiers Wayne Henderson and Gerald Anderson. A busted Wayne Henderson guitar while he worked at the Myrtle Beach Opry led to guitar building.
The legacy of this mountain music, and the craft that makes it possible, is wonderfully on display through Jimmy’s work. A visit to Jimmy’s workshop gives you a real insight into the traditions that come together when luthiers make their instruments – the choices of wood, the techniques used, the influences from past luthiers and the innovations of present-day ones, the decorative touches that hold meaning and beauty. And it gives you the chance to see the huge amount of work, love, and care that goes into crafting each and every instrument, and why those who are lucky enough to own an instrument by Edmonds are pretty passionate about them! This video from a February 2013 Fretboard Journal article serves as a great introduction to Jimmy’s work:
Jimmy mostly makes guitars – he is almost to his 300th guitar – but he also makes fiddles, mandolins, Dobros, and dulcimers, and he helps with the fretwork, pearl inlay, and the finish on his workshop partner Kevin Fore’s banjos. He does not copy any set style or type of guitar, but he is a big fan of 1930s and 1940s Martin guitars and therefore many of his builds reflect those iconic instruments. He has crafted some of his own innovations and decorative touches in the guitars he builds. Henderson views Jimmy’s finish work as some of the best out there – he uses varnish rather than lacquer – and he often does the finish work on Henderson’s guitars.
The passing down of tradition amongst families and from luthier to apprentice is what keeps this craft and this music alive. And so today, we celebrate that passing on from grandfather to grandson, and from father to son, as an appropriate way to mark the anniversary of Norman Edmonds’ birth!
Jimmy Edmonds is featured in our current special exhibit The Luthier’s Craft: Instrument Making Traditions of the Blue Ridge. The exhibit is open through March 4, 2018. He is also a member of the Virginia Luthiers, alongside other luthier band members Wayne Henderson, Gerald Anderson, and Spencer Strickland.
The history of old-time and hillbilly music, especially as it became popular in the years after the Bristol Sessions, is often marked by copyright questions: from murky provenance to songs written by one person and copyrighted by another, and everything in between. Many songwriters, especially those who were uneducated or illiterate, didn’t know how to copyright their songs or were woefully underpaid for their creations.
One such story centers on Dorsey Dixon, a North Carolina millworker who wrote and originally recorded the song later popularized by Roy Acuff as “Wreck on the Highway.” A pious, humble man who left school at 12 to work in a textile mill with his father and older siblings, Dixon “believed that his special mission in life was to spread the gospel through music,” as Patrick Huber tells us in his fascinating and award-winning book Linthead Stomp: The Creation of Country Music in the Piedmont South. (For those who want to learn more, Linthead Stomp is usually available in The Museum Store and features a full chapter about the Dixon Brothers.)
This promotional shot of the Dixon Brothers was taken for a catalog or a magazine. Dixon Brothers image in the John Edwards Memorial Foundation Records #20001, Southern Folklife Collection, The Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Although he had a clever and quirky sense of humor, which was showcased in his song “Intoxicated Rat,” most of Dixon’s songs, usually featuring his brother Howard too, are religious in nature or end with a moral. Many are also event songs – topical songs that focused on recent, often newsworthy, tragedies such as train wrecks or the sinking of the Titanic. Event songs were very commercially popular for hillbilly music. “The Wreck of the Virginian” and “The Newmarket Wreck” were two of these that were recorded at the Bristol Sessions, and “The Wreck of the Old 97” is probably the most enduring song of this genre.
Dorsey Dixon wrote numerous event songs, and he wrote his most successful one after witnessing a car crash outside East Rockingham, North Carolina, in 1937. The focus of “I Didn’t Hear Nobody Pray” was not the crash itself, but rather, as Huber relates, “the curious onlookers who only gawk at the twisted wreckage and bloody bodies instead of beseeching God to receive these souls.” Recorded in early 1938, the song resurfaced in 1942 when Grand Ole Opry star Roy Acuff recorded the song as “Wreck on the Highway” and it became a national sensation.
A promo shot of Roy Acuff, also taken for a catalog or magazine. Roy Acuff image in the John Edwards Memorial Foundation Records #20001, Southern Folklife Collection, The Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Acuff said that he had purchased the lyrics from someone in Knoxville and that Fred Rose, his music publishing partner, had written the music. In reality, the copyright was at the time jointly owned by Dorsey Dixon and Wade Mainer, a banjo player who had earlier convinced Dixon to register the copyright for the song in both their names, possibly for marketing reasons since Mainer was at that time a full-fledged radio star and his name would generate sales. It took four years but in 1946, under threat of a lawsuit, Dixon finally settled with Rose to begin receiving the royalties he deserved from the song. He spent $250 of the settlement to buy out Mainer’s share.
Dixon didn’t seem to hold onto any hard feelings towards those who had basically pirated his song; as Huber notes, Dixon even later wrote: “I’m certain the Lord worked through Acuff and Rose in my favor.” And like many artists of his day, he knew there was value in his musical output but didn’t fully understand how to take advantage of that value nor how to protect himself and his songs from others within the realms of copyright.
Dixon played very little in the 1940s and 1950s as he got older, but he experienced a brief renaissance in the folk revival of the mid-1960s. He played at the Newport Folk Festival in 1963, and in 1965 released his final album Babies in the Mill: Carolina Traditional, Industrial, Sacred Songs. It picked up a theme common in some of his earlier songs like “Weave Room Blues” and “Spinning Room Blues,” that of life in the North and South Carolina textile mills. He died three years later.
Dorsey Dixon in 1962, likely taken by American folklorist Archie Green. Dorsey Dixon image in the John Edwards Memorial Foundation Records #20001, Southern Folklife Collection, The Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Dorsey Dixon didn’t become a national sensation. His songs though are a fascinating window into both the daily life of a working-class textile laborer and into the very soul of a devout Free Will Baptist who believed his songwriting would fulfill the “great purpose” for which he believed he was put on earth.
Guest blogger Joseph Vess lives in Meadowview, Virginia, where he listens to lots of old-time music and occasionally plays the guitar. He urges you to give the Dixon Brothers their due by enjoying the complete Dixon Brothers recordings, along with a 164-page book by Patrick Huber and extensive liner notes, available from Bear Family Records.
Today is National Trivia Day, the perfect opportunity to dig deep into the interesting and unexpected origins of a well-known, oft-sung country song – “A Boy Named Sue.”
Johnny Cash’s At San Quentin album is iconic for many reasons – the album went triple platinum and was nominated for Album of the Year at the Grammys, and the infamous picture of Johnny Cash boasting the middle finger was taken during the recording of the concert in the prison. Johnny Cash at San Quentin was just one of Cash’s albums featuring the concept of playing live in front of an audience of prisoners, so what made this time around so special? Well, one thing was the song that won Cash Best Male Country Vocal Performance at the Grammys – “A Boy Named Sue” – a song he didn’t even write.
Cash performed and was recorded live at San Quentin on February 24, 1969. Before this performance, Cash had a slew of famous musicians at his house for a party. The guest list included artists like Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Shel Silverstein. As a form of entertainment, Cash had his guests gather around and perform whatever song they were currently working on. Silverstein played a song entitled “A Boy Named Sue.” Cash thought it was both hilarious and genius, so much so that he asked Silverstein to write down the lyrics for him.
While it may seem odd that Shel Silverstein, a man known in popular culture as a children’s author and illustrator, was at a party with country and folk musical legends like Cash, Dylan and Mitchell, there was really much more to Silverstein than his classic and much-loved book Where the Sidewalk Ends. He was also a well-regarded singer and songwriter, writing for groups and artists like Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show and Loretta Lynn.
Another less well-known side of Silverstein, perhaps a fact only known by a few parents out there, is that he was also a cartoonist for Playboy magazine where he wrote and drew an illustrated travel journal! So, with his knack for rhyme, lyric, and the provocative, it’s no surprise that he would have a lyrical hit with the likes of “A Boy Named Sue” up his sleeve. According to Silverstein, he drew inspiration for the lyrics to this song from friend and fellow humorist Jean Shepard, who was teased as a child for having a “girl’s” name.
Check out this link to watch Cash and Silverstein singing “A Boy Named Sue” together on Johnny Cash’s variety show:
Cash never would have sung Silverstein’s song if not for his wife June. She convinced Cash to take the lyrics Silverstein wrote down for him on the road to California, saying that it would be a great song to play at San Quentin. Cash, however, was hesitant about the idea because he had only just heard the song for the first time the night before, and he wasn’t sure how people would respond to the song. Despite his misgivings, he brought the lyrics along with him, and a few songs into the set (after he had time to build up some courage), he pulled out the lyrics to “A Boy Named Sue.” And what ensued was an iconic moment.
Here’s an audio recording of Cash performing the song for the first time at San Quentin Prison:
All of the laughs, mess ups, and other such inflections that are clearly heard in Cash’s version of the song are all completely genuine because he is really reading and understanding the lyrics as a performance for the first time. He is truly playing off of the reaction of the crowd and of his band (which was also performing the song for the first time) in order to figure out how to best recount and sing this tale. It is the genuine nature of the song that warrants it all of its accolades – and today it’s a true classic.
Silverstein would also win a Grammy for “Best Country Song” with this song, and later in 1978, he returned to the topic of that boy named Sue, but this time telling the tale from the father’s perspective. And of course, that song was called “The Father of a Boy Named Sue”!
Summer Apostol interned at the Birthplace of Country Music in fall 2017; she is studying history and sociology at Emory & Henry College.
Sometimes it ain’t easy living with a musician. Amps and instruments are your furniture. There are long, late nights of waiting at home or holding up a bar stool while he/she is out practicing with the band or playing a gig. Music will always be their first love, so you’re always a little jealous when it takes time away from you. Though, of course, there is also the bonus of strangers telling you how awesome your musician is – which is actually pretty cool. And I can attest to all of the above because I am Chuck Tipton’s kid.
Dad and me at a jam session at Doc Morgan’s Pharmacy in Bristol, formerly located at 101 Memorial Drive, circa 1973. I look like I need a nap. Photograph courtesy Chuck Tipton
Growing up, the duality of Dad’s daytime profession as a sought-after commercial videographer/photographer was only slightly eclipsed by his nighttime side-hustle as a renowned guitarist, studio musician, and luthier. (For those who don’t know, a luthier is a maker of stringed instruments.) On any given day I am blessed to receive accolades for my Dad’s work from people who know him from both worlds, so to see him honored by having two of his Tipton Custom Guitars on display in the current special exhibit at the Birthplace of Country Music Museum – The Luthier’s Craft: Instrument Making Traditions of the Blue Ridge – alongside some of the best instrument makers in our region means a great deal to me.
Sometime in the late 1980s Dad declared: “If I can’t fix my own guitar, then I shouldn’t play one!” So he read everything he could get his hands on about the craft, converted my parents’ garage into a workshop, and never sent another guitar off for repair again. Soon he was doing repairs for friends and taking in work from local music stores. Around that time he also started building guitars, both acoustic and electric, and electric basses as well. Dad is among the elite few to achieve certification from C. F. Martin & Co. to service their guitars; he is also an authorized Fender repair technician. (And by the way, he does an awesome Tele replica!)
Lightnin’ Charlie playing his Tipton Custom electric, a replica of a Telecaster. Photograph courtesy Lightnin’ Charlie Real
Dad’s expertise has brought some wonderful guitars into his workshop over the years. Chad Weaver, a family friend, was a local musician who moved on to work for many years as Brad Paisley’s guitar tech. Chad once trusted Dad to do some work on Brad’s famous 1968 Fender Pink Paisley Telecaster. Dale Jett, grandson of A. P. and Sara Carter, is another family friend and a customer of Dad’s. Dale inherited A. P.’s 1935 C. F. Martin & Co. 000-28 and has brought it over to Dad’s shop for work in the past. Dad loves working on instruments that have some history, and A. P.’s Martin was put on display and included in the programming for The Carter Family: Lives and Legacies, the first special exhibit curated by the Birthplace of Country Music Museum back in 2014.
Chuck Tipton in his shop holding Brad Paisley’s 1968 Tele, nicknamed “Pink.” Photograph courtesy Chuck Tipton
Musician Webb Wilder has made a stop or two in Dad’s workshop, and country music singer/songwriter Terri Clark owns an electric Tipton Custom Guitar, as does award-winning blues guitarist Deborah Coleman. And both Clark and Coleman listed Tipton Custom Guitars in their album liner notes – Clark’s Pain to Kill and Coleman’s Soft Place to Fall.
Dad pictured with country artist Terri Clark (left); Tom Comet, George Bradfute, and Webb Wilder (right). Photographs courtesy Chuck Tipton
Dad is also a studio musician, and I’ve been told that Dad has likely a thousand album credits to his name. A thousand! He learned to play by ear at a very young age, and he’s played on a ton of records, primarily gospel and country. He once told me that he had to teach himself how to read and write music so he could lead recording sessions – whatever that entails. Sadly, the availability and affordability of DIY recording technology has rendered recording studios across the country an endangered species.
Dad doesn’t do much, if any, studio work these days, and a few of the shops Dad recorded in have either changed hands or no longer exist. He did a lot of work for Joe Deaton, owner of Tandem Records in Bristol, Virginia, in the studio that became Classic Recording Studio when Deaton retired. I remember napping in a chair while Dad laid down tracks during a marathon recording session there. Thankfully Classic is still in operation, though it has changed hands a few times.
While Dad was a studio musician for years, he got his start in high school with his first band The Emanons (no name spelled backwards). Band members Doug Hale, Chuck, Jerry Linberger, and Mike Peters are pictured here, left to right. Photograph courtesy Chuck Tipton
I also recall my brother Matt and I playing with the gooey chunks of vinyl that had dripped to the floor from the old record press they had at Tri-State Recording Studio in Kingsport, Tennessee. Tri-State no longer exists, but I did find them listed on Discogs.com, along with a number of records the company produced on their label. Lasting Sounds is another local studio that Dad spent a lot of time in over the years.
I was usually the first person to grab the phone when it rang in our house, and Dad got lots of calls from people like Charlie Maggard of Maggard Sound Studios and Joe Morrell of Morrell Music. They were always very nice to me and sometimes made small talk while we waited for Dad to pick up. I didn’t think much of it then, but looking back I see what a big chunk of this area’s music history I was witnessing without even realizing how significant it was. Sadly, neither Charlie nor Joe is still with us, but those men left a great legacy to the music culture of this region. Thinking about it now, perhaps some of these studios and their owners deserve blog posts of their own in the future!
The late, great Charlie Maggard at his recording studio, Maggard Sound, Inc. Photograph courtesy Chuck Tipton
From music to camera work, my Dad has maintained the ability to eke out a living through his hobbies, and he is always finding a way to enjoy them too. Last year he even built a one-inch scale model steam traction engine that actually works! The truth is I’ve never known anyone with more ingenuity and determination. From his eye for lighting and shot composition to his keen ear for music, every skill Chuck Tipton has gained has been self-taught. I only feel shortchanged by the fact that I inherited ZERO of his genetic guitar genius or concentration; my younger brother got all that – he’s an amazing picker in his own right.
Dad is a man of few words and tends to shy away from the spotlight. He rarely talks about his accomplishments, so I didn’t appreciate the full scope of his work until I was older. And at the opening reception for TheLuthier’s Craft special exhibit, I noticed the other luthiers who were there had the same quiet nature as my Dad until you got them talking about their work. I suppose they feel most at ease in the solitude of their workshops as opposed to big parties in their honor – which may explain why none of them were smiling in the photo I took at the reception!
Luthiers Chuck Tipton, Randal Eller, and Kevin Fore at the opening reception for The Luthier’s Craft. Photograph courtesy Charlene Tipton Baker
Rob Nicar and Doug Sims are the proud owners of the two Tipton Custom Guitars displayed in TheLuthier’s Craft special exhibit. One of them – called “Redneck” – is the first guitar he ever built from scratch. When asked by the museum if they would loan the instruments for a while, both were anxious to know how long they would have to part with them. Doug said his only regret about having his guitar behind glass is that people won’t be able to hear how good Dad’s guitar sounds!
Dad in front of the display holding his Tipton Custom Guitars with Doug Sims, the owner of “Redneck.”
To say that I’m proud of my Dad would be an understatement. And though he would never say so, I know that being part of this special exhibit at the museum means a great deal to him. It’s the culmination of all the hard work he has done over the past three decades. He told me he has built around 90 instruments since he built his first guitar from a kit, though he doesn’t own a single one. He doesn’t do builds anymore – he says the repair work at the shop keeps him too busy – but I’m hoping being in this exhibit may inspire him to build at least one more for himself so that someday his grandkids will have a piece of this wonderful legacy, made with his own hands!
The Luthier’s Craft exhibit, produced by the Mount Airy Museum of Regional History, is open through March 4, 2018, in our Special Exhibits Gallery. Be sure to take the time to come see Chuck Tipton’s guitars, along with instruments from a host of wonderful local and regional luthiers!
