A few ruminations about folk festivals:—

First, another round of applause for John Ross and the folks who put this thing together and keep it running. This isn't exactly a "nine people accompanied by a ukulele, a slide whistle, and a set of bongos"-size gathering, it's a bit larger than that:   it's HUGE!! I've been in small cities where there were nowhere near as many people as you'll find on the Seattle Center grounds during a festival afternoon. And the fact that it comes off as well as it does—the fact that it comes off at all—is to the credit of John Ross and dedicated and diligent people like him. With an event this monumental and complex, if a few people find something to be dissatisfied about, that's pretty much to be expected. On the one hand, it's next to impossible to avoid a few glitches in an event this big. And on the other hand, even if it were, there are always a few people who could find something to bitch about at a free lunch in Heaven.

I've attended a whole batch of folk festivals over the years, and the biggest by far is the Seattle Folklife Festival. My first acquaintance with such events was the annual Berkeley Folk Festival, several of which I attended in the early Sixties. These were a pretty big events (although compared to Folklife, they were minuscule), but they were quite different. The purpose was not quite the same as that of Folklife. The Berkeley festivals (held on the U. of C. campus) were somewhat longer, beginning with an opening ceremony at noon on the Wednesday before Memorial Day weekend, and finished on Sunday with a huge concert (all participants) in the Greek Theater, followed by a picnic and barbeque in the eucalyptus grove on the west side of campus. Since people came from all over, they gave you Monday, Memorial Day itself, to get home again. In between, one could attend a wide choice of workshops during the day, beginning at something like 10:00 a.m., and continuing into the afternoon. Concerts were held in the evenings. You could hear people like Peggy Seeger and Ewan MacColl, The New Lost City Ramblers, Sandy Paton, Jean Ritchie, Lightnin' Hopkins, Almeda Riddle, Doc Watson, Alice Stuart, Merritt Herring, Mississippi John Hurt, Joan Baez, Alan Lomax, Marais and Miranda (although not all at the same festival), and, in general, the Gods of Olympus. There were enough performers that they had to split the concerts, with two or three performers per evening. These were also the people who made up the panel discussions and workshops (many of which were moderated by Sam Hinton). If you kept your options open and dropped into after-concert parties and such, you never knew who you were going to meet and have a chance to gab with. Barry Olivier organized this, and it was a really tight and efficient suite of events. If you didn't leave dizzy with euphoria and with a head full of stuff to work on, you just weren't paying attention. These were glorious affairs. I loved them and learned an immense amount by attending them, along with have a chance to chat with people like Charles Seeger, Ewan MacColl, and Joan Baez. And a couple of times I actually got invited to perform in a peripheral event or two.

There are times when I wish Folklife were more like the Berkeley festivals, but that would change its character. It would be a whole different animal.

At the Berkeley festivals, you came to listen to a slate of well-known performers, folklorists, and other authorities, and learn. It was an educational experience, with the chance of hear them up close, both performing and talking about folk music, and a good possibility of actually meeting and talking with them. But for the most part, other than at parties or gatherings in corners and stairwells, one didn't get a chance to perform. You listened to others perform. It was not a participatory event like the Northwest Folklife Festival. At Folklife, the premise seems to be "This is what people do, and here they are doing it. Care to join in?" And there are thousands of participants.

Actually, I'd like to see two types of folk festivals. But that would be asking quite a bit.

I performed at Folklife regularly during the late Seventies and early Eighties, and then again last year at the Coffeehouse Reunion (A Gathering of Geezers). The support and assistance of the staff was marvelous ("Is everything okay? Can I get you anything? Coffee, fruit juice, bottled water?"). Also, one can have unforgettable experiences there. In the late Seventies, I think it was, I was scheduled to perform in one of the evening concerts and found myself on the same program as Elizabeth Cotton. I had a chance to sit backstage and listen to her, but ye gods! I was the one scheduled to follow her on stage! The audience would have liked to have listened to her all night (so would I, for that matter), but they were generous. I fell back on my Gordon Bok imitation, and was warmly received.

I won't be performing this year, and doubt that I'll be attending. There are lots of people I would like to hear, and it's always a great chance to see people one hasn't seen for awhile. But I, too, am a bit overwhelmed by the mobs. With me in my wheelchair trying to wend my way through crowds of people who are wandering around, peering over other peoples' heads looking for still other people, I find it a bit difficult to go more than about ten feet without someone winding up in my lap. I can get a little hoarse after a day of shouting "Through, please!" and "Look out!!!"

Good singin' and playin' everybody! I'll be listening on my Tom Swift electric radio.

Don Firth