An Appointment to see The Doctor: Part 2 (final)
By Chris Wilson Click for Part 1 in the September issue of NWBN Before moving on I must say something about the trains at Wartrace. There’s an ungated level crossing there and as the trains approach they sound the horn at about 300 yards and keep sounding it until they’ve passed. One train I saw had six (yes six) locomotives on the front and took the best part of two minutes to pass at about 60 m.p.h. Well after all this excitement, Ron and your scribe drove over to a cafe in Bell Buckle and enjoyed the usual southern hospitality (too much to eat again) before heading back to Shelbyville for the concert. The concert took place in the Calsonic Arena, a large show ring for all kinds of horsey activities. Just one end was used for the concert so there was plenty of room with more than adequate seating. The show actually started at 5.30 p.m. but we were a trifle late (all that eating) so we missed the first couple of acts. But we did see an up and coming young man, Steve Kaufman, plus Claire Lynch and Chris Jones who was over here in the UK about five years ago with the Lyn Morris Band.
On Saturday morning, all Gallagher owners were invited to breakfast at the Walking Horse Hotel in Wartrace. Chet Flippo, author of several books on country music, including one about Hank Williams, was there, but so was the man we all wanted to see and hear - Doc Watson. We first caught a glimpse of him as he was led out to his car and driven away. Everybody thought that was that, and went round the back of the hotel for a picking session in the beautiful sunshine. With one guy from Mississippi, two from Kentucky, a lawyer from way out West and an Englishman far from home (but at least he felt at home), we were all having a great time when somebody said “Doc’s picking in the workshop.” Action stations! Guitars were hastily flung into cases and middle-aged men suddenly found the energy of their miss-spent youth and sprinted across the railroad tracks into the Gallagher workshop just in time to find that the greatest living American had just finished playing and was on the point of leaving - drat and double drat. Well, there was always the concert, so we climbed aboard assorted pickups and cars and headed back to Shelbyville. As the concert started early afternoon, about 2 p.m., we drove straight back to the arena for a quick hamburger before settling down to watch the show. But despite there being some class acts on, everybody was waiting for 6.30 p.m. and you-know-who. After Steve Kaufman had finished his set, there was a group photograph of all Gallagher owners present complete with the Gallagher family. (Note: I’ve just got the photo in the post, it’s a lovely memento, even if I do look a bit like Dr. Crippen). And then there was an ‘open mike’ session to which I foolishly submitted my name. When it came to my turn I tried to hide but they weren’t having any of that, and dragged me on to the stage and told me to get on with it. Without doubt, it was the most terrifying experience of my life, but I had to get on with it and I’m glad I did.
Just after coming off stage I was standing around the back, trying to calm my shattered nerves, when one of the Gallagher back room boys called me over and said “Hey - would you like to meet Doc?” I was dumbfounded - of course I would, so I did. He was a little bit taller than I imagined but otherwise he just looks just like your favourite granddad. Even though he’s blind, there’s a great sense of perception around him and he chooses his words carefully. When I asked him if he remembered playing in Liverpool he did and said “I had to climb a lot of stairs on that tour. I was playing in little folk clubs at the back of pubs.” A couple more questions about the guitars he’d used on various recordings and then he went off for a rest. Your starry eyed scribe returned to the audience and waited, but not for long, Doc was led on by his grandson Richard, who sat him on his chair and made sure his guitar was OK then left. Now Doc Watson isn’t just a guitar player, nor just a singer; he’s an all-round entertainer who tells stories and jokes, sings folk songs and blues, or anything in fact. He has a wonderful sense of communication with his audience - you feel like he’s talking just to you, no matter how many other people there are around. One folk song he played “For the kids - there still some kids here?” You bet there are, all big ones. In Froggie Went a Courtin’ , when it came to the part about the bumble bee with the fiddle, Doc shouted “What did he pick” and tore into a few bars of Black Mountain Rag . The crowd went mad, cheering. Doc just gave that wonderful laugh of his and finished the song.
Then he was joined on stage by his grandson Richard and by Charles Welch, who he told off for not playing a Gallagher guitar (he was playing a Wayne Henderson like Lou Reid) to finish off the first set. As this had to be curtailed in order to fit all the other acts in Doc said, as he left the stage, “We’ll run 15 minutes over in our next set for you!” So me and Ron retired for a bite or two (or was it six?) before arriving back in time to see the last couple of acts before the G.L.A. returned. Just prior to this, we’d managed to sneak into the green room and watch Doc warming up. As well as running through a few new songs that he hadn’t quite worked out and didn’t use on stage that night, he checked out on some old favourites before we left and grabbed two front row seats. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Doc Watson” bellowed the M.C., then Richard led him on stage. As before, he did a few numbers on his own and then Richard and Charles joined him for what was to be a musical tour of Americana - Bob Dylan, John Prine, Jimmy Rodgers, Blind Lemon Jefferson. About the only American music they didn’t play was Rodgers and Hammerstein, but I suppose he’ll work round to them one day. The audience was spellbound. I was hoping that he would go on all night, but it had to end. Eventually the greatest living American rose from his seat, bowed to his audience and left us sic transit gloria back to earth with a bump. So many good bump. So, many goodbyes to people who I’d only known a few days yet who felt like friends of a lifetime. The next day was a bus ride back to Nashville and then the flight home, only to find out Eric Cantona had retired behind my back (must have a word with someone about this). Welcome home to England, well somebody has to live here, me! But I’d rather be in small town America listening to Doc Watson pick Chris Wilson, Skelmersdale. Fotos: Copyright © C.Wilson May be used if permission requested
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