I first noticed Merritt at Singtime (the Portland OR folklore spring gathering)when he praised something I sang -- that'll always get your attention, yes? Told me how he liked my style, and invited me to come sing with a bunch of folks in his trailer that night, which I did. And I noticed he had a kind encouraging word for practically everyone, especially those of us who lacked confidence. Later, at his invite, when I joined the pub singing sessions, I discovered he had a great fondness for those really long, gory traditional American and English ballads that have no chorus or refrain and end badly, you know -- everyone dies in various grim ways. One night he'd just sung one when Dick, another of our regulars, remarked "That was well sung, Merritt; you'll have to do that one again." "Okay," said Merritt, and sang it again. Right then. All 27 grim verses. Afterwards, thinking maybe he was drunk, I said to him, "Merritt, you know Dick didn't mean for you to do that twice in a row, don't you?" He leaned forward and dropped his voice, his eyes sparkling. "Well, now, I guess he won't say that to me again, will he?", he said.