Carl P McConnell b 24 Jan 1913 Big Moccasin Valley VA d 27 May 1994 Kingsport TN; buried Holston View Cemetery, Scott Co VA; occupation, musician, barber; s/o James Morris McConnell and Myrtle Lillie Francisco. Carl P McConnell m. 6 Nov 1940 to Mabel Ruth Moore b 24 Oct 1918; occupation, singer; d/o Male Moore and Female Unknown. (More about Carl and Mabel). Children of Carl P McConnell and Mabel Ruth Moore;

I. Ronald Carl McConnell b Tuesday, 18 Nov 1941; education, electrical engineering degree; Ph.D Virginia Tech; occupation, employed Western Electric, Bell Laboratories, NC; m. 28 Jul 1966 to Martha Coombe. Children of Ronald Carl McConnell and Martha Coombe;

1. Stephanie McConnell b about 1970

2. Matthew McConnell b about 1973

II. Theresa Ruth McConnell b 27 Nov 1947 (Thanksgiving Day); occupation, singer, musician, plays piano, electric organ and guitar; m. 18 Mar 1968 to Charlie Ray Lane. Children of Charlie Ray Lane and Theresa Ruth McConnell;

1. Tracey Michelle Lane b about 1970

2. Charles Michael Lane b about 1972

3. David Ray Lane b about 1975

I, Carl Patton McConnell, was born January 24, 1913, on a farm in Big Moccasin Valley, at the foot of the north side of Clinch Mountain. I was born in an old log cabin that had been the birthplace of my mother (Myrtle Lillie Francisco) and her four sisters and one brother. I am a Baptist by faith and the third child of a family of seven; five girls and two boys. I have followed the barber trade for a living for 35 years and music is only a hobby and a sideline with me. What little musical talent I have, probably came from both my mother and daddy’s side of the fence.

My mother could do a pretty good job at playing the autoharp and organ. She also sang soprano and alto parts. Three of my sisters could play the organ and sing real well.

My mother’s parents, Mr. And Mrs. B. M. Francisco (Braxton McQuinn Francisco and Elizabeth Jane Dickson Counts), were both great church going people and were members of the old fashioned Methodist Church. They believed in living it every day. My mother and her sisters and brother have followed the same pattern of convictions.

My Grandma Francisco (Elizabeth Jane Dickson Counts Francisco) was an excellent old-fashioned singer, with a beautiful, loud, clear voice. She had the reputation of being able to do more good with her singing in the old revival meetings than a lot of preachers could do with their preaching. They sent for her and came after her from miles around to get her to help sing and take part in the old-time country revival meetings. It was well known in those days that she spent a large portion of her time in this manner.

Grandpa Francisco was a farmer and the owner of one of the largest apple orchards in the area, which was located high up under the north side of Clinch Mountain.

My Daddy (James Morris McConnell), was fairly good at playing the harmonica, Jews harp, and could plunk quite a few of the old tunes on the five-string banjo. He did some bass singing. He passed away at the age of sixty-three, on July 11, 1945. My mother (Myrtle Lillie Francisco McConnell) is still living alone at the age of eighty-five.

My grandpa, Patton McConnell, born February 2, 1846, was a top old-time fiddler and banjo picker. He was considered the champion fiddler of this area (Scott County, Virginia) for years, back in the days of about 1875 until about 1900. He had participated in almost all of the entertainments and exhibitions around this area in those days.

He, for many years, owned and operated a roller mill in Big Moccasin Valley. The mill was a combination consisting of flour, corn, and buckwheat mills. Also attached to it was a saw mill, and a planing mill, all of which were pulled by a turbine powered by water flowing by gravity from a concrete dam, located only a few hundred yards above the old mill place. There was also an old country general store, a blacksmith’s shop and the old dwelling house, all standing in a cluster.

This was an old stomping ground and gathering place for all the surrounding neighborhood. You might say that in the old days, it served as a sort of shopping center for these people.

Grandma and Grandpa McConnell were old-time Baptist Church people. Grandma McConnell was known by many people as Scott County’s own Florence Nightingale. She had the credit for delivering more babies in her lifetime than did a lot of the doctors. Her father, James Culbertson (my great grandpa), was a civil engineer by trade. He was part of the big covered wagon caravan that was formed from this surrounding area of Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee. They made the long, weary, and rugged journey across the U. S. A. to California during the big “California Gold Rush” in 1848. I am not positive, but I’m very much under the impression that he, James Culbertson, (a big man, 6 feet, 3 inches tall and 240 pounds) served as the wagon master for this journey, which took more than six months to complete. These people had to brave the Indians and wild animals that were so numerous at that time.

The first banjo that I ever owned was a little $9.95 Supertone five-stringer that I ordered from Sears, Roebuck and Company in January 1931. After a few days of plunking around, I learned to start a couple of tunes. The first one was “Goin’ Down in Town”. The second was “Down the Road”.

From there I soon learned a lot of the other old tunes; such as “The Spanish Fandango”, “President McKinley’s March”, “Arkansas Traveler”, “Cripple Creek”, “John Henry”, and many others. Those tunes I learned from my Daddy’s youngest brother, Uncle Pat. He was a banjo picker, first class, at the two-finger and thumb style, as well as the old “hoe-down” lick, which has lately been renamed the “claw hammer” style. To me it will always be the old “hoe-down” banjo picking.

As well as I have always loved the old “hoe-down” style of banjo picking; I never did put forth enough effort and time to master it. At that time, I liked the two fingers and thumb style much better and I put all my time in on trying to learn it instead. Now I regret that I didn’t learn both styles.

I also had a cheap Supertone guitar that came from Sears, Roebuck, and Company. It wasn’t a bad instrument for those days. For many years I did a lot of thumping on this guitar and others as well. The fact is, I did about as much guitar plunking, at times, as I did banjo thumping. No one ever called me a “Doc Addington”.

Doc Addington and I are close kinfolk’s. I’d like to add here that he is a brother to Mother Maybelle Carter, who is one of the original members of the famous Carter Family. His dad and mine were first cousins. My daddy’s mother was a distant cousin to Doc’s mother, both being descendants of the Kilgore generation. That makes us even a little more akin.

We grew up about four miles from each other (the way the crow flies), with two ridges and about a couple of valleys separating us. By car, around the road, it was a distance of around ten miles and back. In those days, there were only a few miles of blacktop road in the mountain area, especially here in Scott County. These were mostly narrow, rough, dirt roads.

This being true, Doc and I never had met until the summer of 1932. Doc came over to my home one Sunday afternoon, with his neighbor and close friend, Lester (Groundhog) Addington, who was dating my oldest sister, Irene.

On this occasion, Doc didn’t come in the house. He sat out in the car, parked close to the front porch. I walked out and interrupted the little tune he was whistling, by saying “hello” and asking him to come in the house while he was waiting. He said that he would just sit there and wait on “Groundhog”, who was in the parlor with Irene. He right then started whistling this same little old tune. He seemed to be more interested in being left alone and in whistling than he was in talking to me. Ha!

It sort of worried me a bit because he wouldn’t get out of the car and come on into the house, so I thought I’d go into the parlor and see if I could get “Groundhog” to go out and try persuading him to come on in. Groundhog sort of laughed and said, “Ah, he is bashful and stubborn, too. Let him sit out there.”

This didn’t satisfy my mind and, pondering over the situation another minute or so, I made up my mind to give it another try. I walked back out to the car and found Doc still whistling that same tune. So, ill mannered me, I broke in on his whistling again to say “Doc, I wish you would get out and come in the house.” He said, “No, thanks, I’ll just sit out here.” Then, quickly, I asked him some other question, with the hope of getting him started into a friendly conversation.

He just answered back with as few words as possible, and instantly started right back whistling. To me, that was a pretty firm hint that he just didn’t care too much about getting any better acquainted with me. I hastily turned and walked back into the house. In about an hour, I saw “Groundhog” step off the front porch and crawl under the steering wheel of his 1923 Model T Ford Touring car. I rushed out to invite them to come back again. I got out on the porch in time to see them take off like a ruffled grouse and to hear Doc, still whistling the same tune. By this time, he was setting it afire. This was my first acquaintance and experience with Doc Addington.

I had heard quite a lot about Doc’s fancy guitar picking for about a couple of years. Up until this time, I had never had the chance to hear him. The following fall, he and “Groundhog” dropped in one night at the home of our neighbors, Boyd and Will Quillin. A big bunch of us had gathered there for one of our usual musical parties.

After a lot of insisting from me and the rest of the musicians, (he kept saying that he couldn’t pick), Doc was persuaded to take the guitar and he picked and sang about a half-dozen songs, with me backing him with the banjo.

I will never forget the expressions on the faces of the crowd, (and especially the musicians looking on), as he was about the middle of the first song, “Coney Isle.” You talk about a display of raised eyebrows and staring eyes, with mouths half open, all set on Doc and the guitar. No doubt I looked even worse stunned than they did because I think that I even dropped out and forgot to pick the banjo at times. He also picked and sung “The Brownie Blues”, “My Dear Old Southern Home”, and one of Jimmy Rodger’s “Blue Yodels”.

When he had finished the 4th and last song, he handed the guitar back to its owner and requested a continuation of the music. If my memory serves me right, there was no response.

This was the beginning of mine and Doc’s musical career. I believe the next time we met was at Doc’s home place, in the month of May 1933, on a Saturday night. He had sent me word a few days ahead of time to come over on that particular Saturday night and bring my banjo. He said they were going to have a musical party, or a music making, I believe he called it.

My brother Kenneth and I saddled our dappled gray, half-percheron, work horses, old Frank and Bird, and started on the four-mile rough trail across the two ridges and valleys. At the halfway mark, across the first ridge and down into the valley, in the west end of Taylor town community, we stopped by Beacher Smith’s home place. He met us at the yard gate. He was headed for the party also. As we were approaching Beacher’s home, we noticed a black looking storm cloud rising from the west and coming in our direction.

I called Beacher’s attention to this bad looking thunder cloud and requested that we wait a few minutes to see if it was going to rain, before going any further. Beacher turned his head and looked back at the black cloud and said, “I declare, Carl, I don’t believe it’s going to rain here.” He repeated this statement at least three or four times, as I kept insisting that we wait there at his place until after the rain had passed.

I let him out talk me and against my better judgment, we started on toward Copper Creek Valley, about two miles away. Beacher was then and still is a good old time fiddler, but he taught me that night that he was a poor weather prophet.

By the time we had gone half a mile to the top of the next ridge, (where Joe Addington’s new home place is now) the hard part of this rainstorm overtook us. We tried to keep under the biggest trees as much as possible so they might shield us, but to no avail. The rain was coming down like pouring out of a tub. All of us enjoyed a genuine drenching, including my old banjo, even though I tried to protect it.

When we arrived at the Addington residence, about 9:00 p.m., we found a house full of neighbors and a host of musicians as well. The music was already going in full swing. I held my Supertone banjo over the globe of the old kerosene lamp. The calfskin head was soon dry enough to pick. I tuned up with the boys, and instantly the fiddler, Jimmy D. Cress, took off on the old tune "Cackling Hen". Then, without a pause, he tore right into another old tune, “Cumberland Gap”. Those old tunes were favorites of Jimmy’s and he could do a job on them, as well as many others that was second to no one else. Jimmy D. was a brother-in-law to Beacher.

Mill Nickels, who lived just a hop and a jump across the field, was another old time fiddler, included in the crowd. He was an excellent, smooth, and a clear noting fiddler as you rarely ever hear, to say the least. He had a whole line of pretty waltz tunes that he played very beautifully, so as to almost make the hair stand on end.

The greatest thrill of all that I experienced at this particular gathering was the honor of seeing for the first time, the greatest country singer that this country ever had, in my opinion. She had the truest and most beautiful voice of all. The person that I am referring to is the great “Sara Carter”, of the famous Carter Family, who did all of the lead singing in the recordings and elsewhere.

After the three fiddlers had played about a couple of dozen tunes each, backed up by mine and Doc’s picking’, Doc’s oldest brother, Dewey, (Dewey L Addington, s/o Hugh Jackson Addington and Margaret Elizabeth Kilgore) dug out his old five string banjo and rendered about a dozen of the old tunes in the old fashioned “hoe-down” way, which he is so noted for. He played such tunes as “John Henry”, “Cripple Creek”, “Sally Goodin”, “Sugar Hill”, etc.

Then Doc and I rattled off a few instrumentals with Doc in the lead on the guitar. Doc sang a couple, like “Coney Isle”, and the “Brownie Blues”. I tried singing possibly four or five of my favorite sad songs and tried to pick a couple or so, such as “Shortenin' Bread” and “The Spanish Fandango”.

By that time, it was getting near midnight and voices all over the house could be heard requesting Sara to sing. Doc handed her the guitar. Since I never had the pleasure of hearing her in person, but only on records, this was indeed a treat to me. It only took about a verse and the chorus of the first song of her singing to convince me that the old saying was true, in this case; she was the best there by ten country miles and was saved for the last.

Sara sang several of the beautiful old songs and hymns. I don’t recall all of them. To name a few, I do remember that she did sing the following: “The Last Roundup”, “Why There’s A Tear In My Eye”, “On A Hill Lone And Gray”, “When I take My Vacation In Heaven”, “One Step More”, “No Telephone In Heaven”, and “The Old Rugged Cross”.

I had never before heard these songs sung so beautifully and with such real true meaning, as their writers had intended them. I’m quite sure that this was another occasion on which I was caught with staring eyes and mouth half open. I was so carried away with her beautiful singing that I just forgot everything else.

Sara chose for her concluding number an old favorite sacred song that I thought was very fitting. Her choice was "Will The Circle Be Unbroken”. When she had finished the last chorus of this touching old song, the crowd began to rise, one by one, reaching for their hats and milling through the crowd to shake the kind hand of Doc’s mother, Mrs. Margaret Addington, and bid her good night and thanks for her allowing us to come into her good home on this occasion. Mrs. Addington was one of the kindest persons that I ever knew. She was as good to me as a mother. I felt perfectly welcome in her home. She was another good banjo picker, the old fashioned “hoe-down” style.

Now getting back to the breaking up of this musical party: It was then about 12:30 a. m., Sunday morning. After all well wishes and good nights were said, everyone was all soon making their way toward home on foot, through the fields and in the pathways. You could see the lights from the kerosene lanterns and flashlights going in several different directions.

In the meantime, Kenneth and I had already mounted our horses and were starting on the long narrow, rough trail across the ridges and valleys that would lead us back home. We were accompanied by Beacher and Jimmy D. Cress, walking along by our side. They said they would rather walk than ride.

Along the way, we were discussing back and forth the enjoyable time that we had just experienced with this group of wonderful mountain people. The sound of the good old mountain music, and the singing as well, was still ringing in our ears. We had thoroughly enjoyed all the music that had been produced in those short four hours.

At this time, we were passing by Beacher’s home and he and Jimmy D. left us for the night.

The thought also ran through my mind wondering if this would ever happen again, at the same place, and with the same people meeting back there together. I was just dreaming and hoping, of course. All of these pleasant memories seemed to help the time fly by. In no time at all, it seemed that Kenneth and I were riding up in the hallway of the old barn, at our old home place, in Big Moccasin Valley, at the foot of Clinch Mountain. It was then about a quarter until 3 o’clock, Sunday morning.

It turned out that this musical party at Mrs. Margaret Addington’s home place was only the beginning of many similar gatherings or so called jam sessions, which took place there in her home every week or so. However, sadly in response to the question asked in Sara’s concluding song, that particular night – yes, the circle was broken because all of this fine group of people never met together there again. There was always at least two or three absent in the gatherings thereafter.

This was just the first of these music parties. From that time on, people from all around that community started inviting us to come into their homes. We soon had more invitations and had made more promises than we could fulfill in a year’s time. At the rate of only one to two or three nights per week, we played all over the Copper Creek area in dozens of homes, all the way up into Nickelsville, and on back into the Midway community. Also, extending back in the southern direction, through the ridges and valleys, reaching over into Big Moccasin Valley, my home community, where the majority of the sessions were performed.

In that locality, we had big crowds almost every time. As to be expected, there was a certain group of special friends and fans who followed us from house to house, from one locality to another. Whenever they got the word just where we were going to be, they would usually be there. Of course, this helped to stimulate us to a great extent.

The picking and singing that was appreciated most of all by everyone was that which was rendered by Sara Carter, who attended a lot of these music making parties along with us. When it came her turn to take over, you could almost hear a pin drop. This lull continued throughout the whole period of her performance. She always called on me to take my banjo and plunk along with her. Naturally, this made me feel more important than ever, since she was at that time considered the world’s foremost country music singer. Me, being the weak, corny banjo picker that I was, you can’t imagine just how much I appreciated her attitude and just how good it made me feel.

In addition to all of these musical parties, Doc and I were exchanging visits with each other. Every week or so, I would go over to his home and spend a couple of days, on the weekends. He, in turn, would do the same with me, getting about all of the picking and singing that we cared to do.

To go on with the story of these crazy, whirlwind music makings, I can’t afford not to tell you that another one of our meeting places was in Maces Springs, Va., at the home of Doc’s sister, Maybelle Carter, one of the original members of the famous Carter Family. She did all of the fancy lead guitar picking in all of the recordings and elsewhere. She sang the tenor part with Sara and A. P. Carter. Maybelle is not only a guitar picker, but she is a first class old fashioned banjo picker, “hoe-down” style, a piano player second to none, and the best lead autoharp picker to be found, as far as I’m concerned. Maybelle is a natural born country musician, if there ever was such a creature. Maybelle gave me perfect treatment all of the times that I was in her home. She gave me ten times better treatment than I deserved. Maybelle and her mother had to be the best kind of people to put up with me as much as they did. I spent many weeks with each of them.

It has just now dawned on me that I have failed to mention that there were various other local musicians, with whom we shared these programs. We took turnabout with them at the majority of these music practice sessions. We weren’t making all of the music, by any means.

In the midst of all the corny mountain music making, Doc and Fiddlin’ Jimmy D. Cress spent the months of August and September 1934 at our home. They helped us work on the farm, and each night after supper, we would fiddle and frolic until late bedtime. Most of these nights, we had a bunch of neighbor visitors as an audience. This always stimulates a musician somewhat and makes him put a little more into his picking. As I have already stated, Jimmy D. Cress was a top old time fiddler on a few of the old tunes such as: “Cumberland Gap”, “Cackling Hen”, and others. He also had a couple of tunes on which he did some nice trick fiddling. These two tunes were: “The Drunken Hiccups” and “Pop Goes the Weasel”.

In the spring May 1934, Doc and I went on our first personal appearance. Sara Carter was booked for a Saturday night appearance at the old Odd Fellow’s Hall in Bristol, Virginia. She asked us to go along and share this program with her. Of course, we welcomed the opportunity. Sara opened the program by singing about six or eight of the old favorite ballads and hymns that she was so noted for singing. Then Doc and I came out and sang possibly a half dozen duet numbers. I don’t recall but a couple of these, the “Browns Ferry Blues”, and “I’m Goin’a Quit My Rowdy Ways”. We played a couple of instrumentals, with Doc in the lead on the guitar. I sang a couple of sad songs. This was good experience for us.

Our first radio broadcast was on Station WOPI, Bristol, Va.-Tenn., the first part of the year 1934, on "The Saturday Afternoon Matinee". We appeared on this program nearly every Saturday afternoon thereafter, until the early part of 1936.

I have waited a long time to give you this information, but I’m a firm believer in that old saying, “It’s better late than never”, so here goes. It only took one jam session with Doc to convince me that he was as far ahead of me as day is night on taking leads and doing interludes. So from the very start, I shirked this responsibility and left this part up to him. That is why he has always done, and still does the leading on the guitar and I, the second on the banjo. This is an odd style, as a matter of fact, it is exactly the opposite of what it should be, but it is too late now to try to make the correction. Anyway, shut one eye and plug one ear and you’ll hardly know the difference. Oh yes, I was about to forget something else, and that is – I sing lead and Doc does the tenor part.

Well, in order to shorten the story a bit, Doc and I followed this same routine of picking and singing right on up through the middle of April 1936, when Doc, along with three friends (the Bays Brothers) went to Nobelsville, Indiana, where he got a job in a rubber tire plant. In a short time, he met a girl who soon proved to be his future wife. They were married very shortly and settled down in the area.

It was 2½ years before we were together again to make anymore music. It was the middle of October 1938, when I got word from Doc for me to come out to his place in Westfield, Indiana as quickly as possible. We were wanted in Chicago by the Consolidated Drug Company to do an audition (a tryout for a job with them). We were recommended to the Drug Company by our good friends and kindred, the Carter Family, who was already employed by them. They were, at that time, located on ZERA, Del Rio, Texas.

Well, about two weeks later, we were in the middle of Chicago’s downtown business district on N. Wells Street, in Harry O’Neil’s office. Mr. O’Neil was the ‘Drug Trades’ advertising manager. He had us to sing a couple, accompanied by our banjo and guitar. He told us that he would start us on Radio Station WCFL there in Chicago the next day, with a group of his musicians, for a certain amount each per week. We took him up on his offer. We were on this station only a short time, due to a tough union and the high cost of union membership and dues. We were never in the musician’s union while there and weren’t allowed to use our instruments. We had to sing by the music of the group who was in the union.

After a month’s stay on station WCFL, Doc and I and all of the group were transferred to WHAM in Rochester, N. Y., where we were already full fledged members of that local union upon arrival. We could use our own instruments all the while that we were there, which was only two months.

Doc and I were transferred to WHAS, Louisville, Kentucky, in February 1939. On WHAS, we were on the early “Morning Jamboree” program from 6:30 a. m. to 7:30 a. m. along with a group of other musicians, namely, Uncle Henry’s Kentucky Mountaineers, Sally and the Coonhunter, Sunshine Sue and her Rock Creek Rangers, Gordon Sizemore and Little Betty, Joe and Al, The Chuckwagon Boys, and Pat McAdary.

Doc and I also had a fifteen-minute program alone at 4:15 p. m. on WHAS. Randy Blake was our announcer on both of these programs. We spent more time on Station WHAS than all of these other stations combined. We were making personal appearances all over that area of Kentucky, Indiana, and Ohio, that were within driving range, just so that we were able to make it back in time for the “Early Morning Jamboree”.

I used the old Supertone banjo all of the time until about March 1939, when one day Doc and Dick Hartman began telling me of a good used banjo that they had found at a certain music store and pawn shop over on Market Street, in Louisville, that day. They insisted that it was a very expensive banjo, in excellent, almost new condition, and at a certain give away price. I went with them over to this music store that same afternoon and I have never regretted it. I still have this old Paramount banjo and I have had many buyers and quite a few good offers for it. About a year later, I sold my old Supertone five stringer to Doc’s oldest brother, Dewey.

In July 1939, the Consolidated Drug Company talked us into going back to Chicago to do some recording for them. We were to make some transcriptions for radio use, which were to be used on some of the Mexican stations, just across the Texas State line, inside Mexico. We made 84 fifteen-minute programs, consisting of well over 300 songs. We later learned that this was another one of our bad choices that we seemed so gifted to, because instead of just using these transcriptions for a one year period, as the contract stated, they played (used) them for 20 years, over the following radio stations: ZERA, ZENT, ZELD, ZEAW, and two other stations that I am unable to recall.

The Consolidated Drug Company had a rule to let their live talent take a three month vacation during the summer months of June, July, and August and calling them back about the middle of each September to resume broadcasting.

The first week of September 1939, we got a letter each from the Consolidated Drug Company to report back to Station WHAS, Louisville, Kentucky on September 20 for the fall broadcast. Doc and I remained on the “Morning Jamboree” program at WHAS with the regular group, named above, all that fall and winter, until the first of March 1940.

We were then transferred to Station WKRC, Cincinnati, Ohio, where we had two fifteen minute programs each day, until the last of May when the usual summer vacation season started. I can honestly say that we thoroughly enjoyed every one of these broadcasts and all of these stations mentioned here, and all others not identified. It was indeed a pleasure working with all of the groups of musicians and everyone that were involved in one way or another.

The first part of June 1940, Doc and I hooked up with Mother Maybelle and the Carter Sisters; Helen, June, and Anita, along with A. P. Carter’s youngest sister, Sylvia, who was a good singer as well as a good guitar and autoharp picker. All summer long, we made personal appearances in the eastern half of Tennessee, southwest Virginia, and all down through North Carolina, clear to the coast, playing school houses, court houses, lodge halls, and an occasional theater. We continued making these shows, right on up into the month of September, when we had to quit in order that the Carter Sisters could attend school at Hiltons, Virginia.

Within a month’s time, Doc and I decided to quit the music racket for the time being. He and his wife and children went back to Indiana where his old job was still awaiting him at the Firestone Rubber Company at Noblesville.

I got a job in December 1940 at the barber trade with the Ballis Barber Shop on Main Street in Kingsport, Tennessee. I had taken a three-month course in barbering in the spring of 1938 at Bristol Barber College in Bristol, Virginia.

This same fall, on November 6, 1940, I was married to Mabel Ruth Moore, after a few short years of courtship. I had known her since I was possibly ten years old. Both of us were born and reared within two miles of each other. We attended about three school terms together.

Mabel’s parents lived on top of Big Moccasin Ridge, about a mile north of my Grandpa McConnell’s home and old mill place. Grandpa’s mill place was about the half way mark between my old home place and Mabel’s.

We were blessed with two sweet children; Ronald Carl, born Tuesday, November 18, 1941 and Theresa Ruth, who was born November 27, 1947, on Thanksgiving Day. While I am on this particular family subject, I will bring it all up to date.

Ronald was married to Martha Coombe, of Rich Creek, Virginia on July 28, 1966. They have two children, Stephanie, 6, and Matthew, 3. They now live in Burlington, N. C. Ronald has an electrical engineering degree including a Ph.D. that he achieved at Virginia Tech. He is employed at the Western Electric, Bell Laboratories, located on Highway 40, between Burlington and Greensboro.

Theresa was married to Charlie Ray Lane on March 18, 1968. They have three children; Tracey Michelle, age 7; Charles Michael, age 5; and David Ray, age 17 months. They live in Kingsport, Tennessee. Charlie is employed at the Kingsport Press.

Theresa has a lot of talent. She plays the piano, electric organ, and picks the guitar. She has a good voice and can sing just about any part that she wishes; as well as any type of music, from hymns, to country – to rock and roll.

In reference to these five grandchildren of ours; I never realized what they were like, or why they were called “grandchildren”, until these of ours came along. Well, they were rightly named, for they certainly are Grand, in capital letters.

My wife, Mabel, is the second child of a family of eight children; four boys and four girls. One brother, Edd, is now deceased. She was born October 24, 1918. Her mother and daddy were good Christian church going people. They were always extremely good to me. Mrs. Moore is still living at the old home place. Mr. Moore passed away Wednesday, January 19, 1966. Mrs. Moore has been a good singer all her life, having a nice voice. I am of the opinion that the musical and singing talent that exists among Mabel’s sisters and brothers came through her mother’s side. Mrs. Moore had some sisters and brothers who sang real well also.

Mabel has three sisters who are good singers and also three of her brothers (Howard, Edd, and Glen) were good musicians and singers. They had a pretty good bluegrass type band, back in the late 30s and 40s. They played regularly, for quite some time on the “Saturday Night Hay Ride” program, which was carried by radio station WKPT, Kingsport, Tennessee an also at Elizabethton, Tennessee on the Saturday morning music show through WJHL radio. Their instruments consisted of two guitars and a mandolin.

Glen and Howard, The Moore Brothers, along with Clarence “Tater” Tate were on the “Mid-Day-Merry-Go-Round”, carried by radio station WNOX, Knoxville, Tennessee for a brief period in the year 1949.

In the past five years, Mabel has been joining with Doc and me on a few songs, forming a trio. She is a good singer and sings lead as well as the tenor-alto part that she uses in these trio numbers. She has been with us on about all of our personal appearances (festivals and television appearances) that we have been making since 1971.

For the past three years, Mabel and her oldest brother, Howard, and I have been doing quite a bit of singing and picking. We started out meeting at each other’s homes, just for fun and for past time. For over a year, we met about twice each week. The songs we use consist mainly of hymns and gospel songs, with a few country songs added for good measure. I think we have a fairly decent trio, as far as close, smooth harmony is concerned. That is the main goal or should be, in a good quartet, duet, trio, or what have you.

In December 1940, a month after our marriage, Mabel and I moved to Kingsport where I worked at the barber trade until March 1941. We then moved to Gate City, Virginia and I started working at the Cross and Vermillion Barber Shop. I have worked at the barber profession in Gate City ever since except for a one year period, between November 1, 1945 until about November 11, 1946, when Doc and I were again back in the music business.

During this five-year period, from November 1940 to November 1945, I did occasionally meet with some of the boys for jam sessions, getting a little practice along, but never over doing it.

Between November 1942 and September 1945, Doc was in the service and spent the majority of this time overseas, In Italy and Sicily. Something like a month after Doc was discharged, Mother Maybelle asked us to come join her and the Carter Sisters at WRNL, Richmond, Virginia where they had been employed for awhile and were well established. They had been making a lot of appearances each week at schoolhouses, courthouses, and some theaters throughout the surrounding area.

After a little corresponding back and forth between Doc, Maybelle, and myself, we agreed to take them up on their offer. We joined them in November 1945. Mother Maybelle and The Carter Sisters had two daily programs on WRNL; one thirty minute program in the mornings from 6:30 to 7:00 o’clock and a fifteen minute program in the afternoons from 3:45 to 4:00 o’clock.

We played schoolhouses throughout that section, within driving range, all through that winter and spring season. In late spring 1946, when we started playing the parks in Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland, we concentrated mainly on the ones in Pennsylvania because that state has more than her share of nice parks.

The most entertaining part of our show was June’s “Aunt Polly” comedy act. She was a natural born clown, if there ever was one. There was none better, no where, and that includes Hollywood.

While on WRNL, Doc and I got an invitation to come over to WRVA and go to work on the “Old Dominion Barn Dance” Saturday night program, then being managed and operated by Sunshine Sue and Rock Creek Rangers. We turned this opportunity down, because we felt obligated to Mother Maybelle and the Carter Sisters. We also had the honor of going over to the governor’s mansion and entertaining Governor Tuck and a group of his special guests one night.

While we were playing these parks up through Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland, we always transcribed our two daily radio programs a week in advance, to take our place on the radio station while we were away. We finished playing these park dates the first part of September 1946 when suddenly the decision was made that all of us should come back home to the beautiful Clinch Mountain area of Southwest Virginia for a month or so vacation and make personal appearances at a few school houses (and the courthouse in Gate City, as well), which we did. This turned out to be another ending to another chapter of mine and Doc’s corny, “ragtime and mountain music making sprees”.

Mother Maybelle and the Carter Sisters immediately went back to Richmond, Virginia. However this time, they hired in at radio station WRVA for the Saturday night “Old Dominion Barn Dance” program.

Doc, his wife, and five children again packed their suitcases and headed back to Noblesville, Indiana, to take up where he had left off four years before at the Firestone Rubber Company plant.

Mabel, our son Ronald, and I settled down once again in this area. I went back to work at the Scott Barber Shop in Gate City where I still work to this very day, January 24, 1976.

A lot of time lapsed before we were ever together again for any music making, except for possibly three or four times, when Doc and his family would come in for a few days visit to see his people. We would usually then get together on one of these nights, long enough to strike up a few instrumental tunes and possibly run through a dozen songs. This was about all of the picking and singing that we did together for a period of twenty-five years. That’s such a long time for two musicians to be separated that it sounds like a fairy tale. I agree with that, but figure it for yourself, from November 1946 to September 2, 1971. Actually, just to glance back, it doesn’t seem half that long, but time and tide waits on no man, you know.

During those 25 years, I was occasionally meeting with some of the local musicians for music making’s and jam sessions, but I didn’t over do it by any means. For a period of five years that passed during this 25 year period, I never had my banjo out of the case.

Doc had to retire due to disability and came back here from Indiana in September 1971. He has been making his home here ever since, within a half mile of his old home place site.

In no time at all, we were right back at the same old routine of thirty or so years before, meeting at friends and neighbor’s homes, sometimes two or three nights per week, by requests and invitations, to the extent that we got so far behind with our promises that we couldn’t keep up. It was like those days of thirty years before – we never did get around to filling all of our appointments and promises.

With this practice for about two or three months, we got back into fairly good shape again. We brushed up on a lot of our old instrumental numbers, a lot of our old favorite country songs, hymns and gospel songs that we sang together so often years before.

Beside all of the picking and singing, we were also attending a number of family reunions, homecomings, birthday parties, and doing a little singing at a few of the country churches throughout this area.

After a few short months, we started making a few personal appearances with Janette Carter, A. P. and Sara Carter’s youngest daughter. Janette is an old pro at this country music show business and is a good singer as well as a good autoharp and guitar picker. We played quite a lot of school houses and folk festivals with her, such as: “The Smokey Mountain Folk Festival”, Cosby, Tennessee in July 1972; “The National Folk Festival”, Wolf Trap Farm, Vienna, Virginia in July 1973; “The Cumberland Gap Jubilee”, Lincoln Memorial University, Harrogate, Tennessee in September 1974, and also an appearance at Clinch Valley College.

Doc and I also made three appearances at the A. P. Carter Store Building during the past year. Janette has been holding country music shows on Saturday nights for the past year and a half. We also participated in the "First A. P. Carter Memorial Day" at the A. P. Carter Store Building, August 24, 1975.

We participated in the “Carter Stanley Memorial Day” and Blue Grass Festival in Nora, Virginia on May 25, 1975. We were guests on about seven or eight of Jimmy Smith’s (The Old Ridgerunner) Saturday night television shows on Channel 19, WKPT, Kingsport, Tennessee, during the spring of 1972.

We appeared on Cas Walker’s early T. V. Program as guests on Channel 10, Knoxville, Tennessee in January 1972. My wife, Mabel, appeared with us on all of these appearances, except the Cas Walker T. V. Program.

Doc and I had a gift for making bad choices and mistakes while we were making music.

Mistake No. 1: We had two different chances in 1939 and 1940 to record for “The Blue Bird Recording Company (RCA), which were to be a tryout (test) proposition. We completely ignored these two opportunities, as if they were invitations to donate our services to a “country square dance” somewhere.

Mistake No. 2: In the spring of 1940, we were offered the opportunity by Dick Hartman to go with him to Hollywood and make two movies; one with Gene Autry, and the other with Tex Ritter, with all expenses paid and $1000.00 clear cash. Dick Hartman was the originator and leader of the famous “Tennessee Ramblers” that were on Station WBT, Charlotte, North Carolina in the early 1930s.

Dick and his gang had already gone to Hollywood in 1935 and made two movies with Gene Autry. He had two other contracts and wanted Doc and I to join him and his gang in making these two additional movies. We again gave this unusual opportunity the same reception or brush-off, with no more respect and consideration than we did the recording deal.

Well, I suppose that this just about covers most of mine and Doc’s musical history, as I best recall it and you can form your own opinion; I have mine.

Mabel and I have lived at Hiltons, Virginia since September 1952 in a hollow at the foot of Clinch Mountain, south side, in a ramshackle shack.

THE END