I had one too.

I got it through George and Gerry Armstrong -- about 1960 also. They were highly influenced by Frank---being, as they were, making records for Sandy and Caroline Paton too. Actually, everyone around Folk Legacy was aware of Frank Profitt, and having one of his hand made banjos and/or dulcimers was part of us Chicago folkies way of learning about Appalachian folk music.

Then Frank Proffitt and Frank Warner came to the first U. of Chicago Folk Festival in 1961. It was and is still an extremely traditional festival where urban met the roots every February for over 40 years. But hanging out with Mr. Proffitt and Roscoe Holcomb and Elizabeth Cotten and Clarence Ashley and Doc Watson was how I, personally, recharged my trad batteries every year.

And those first years, the students lucked out when they hired the New Lost City Ramblers to be at the festival; indeed, Mike and John and Tom had the credentials and expertise and insights to run the workshops with a proper tone. They knew many, no, most of the right questions to ask the mountain folks and the blues-men and the cowboys and the union people like Sarah Ogan Gunning.

But Frank Warner on stage with Frank Proffitt talking about Tom Dooley---and Mr. Proffitt, when prompted, playing that song on his self-made banjo. Imagine my shock when the original tapes made by the Warners in those North Carolina mountains were finally issued on a CE. The backup on "Tom Dooley" employed by Frank Proffitt was on a guitar! ------- Well, live and learn.

This good thread just has me thinking back to those old banjos---and where mine went...

It was later in the decade of the sixties. A lady who waited tables at the first No Exit in Evanston was pregnant. (No, it wasn't mine!) But those were the days no legal abortions. Only back alley butchers were doing those. She was a good friend of mine---and I admit to having had a crush on her. Her parents had disowned her in Northern Wisconsin. She needed money bad for the procedure. Two guitars and that Frank Proffitt hand-made banjo got sold and the cash went to the lady.

Two days later I heard she was in the hospital. A Chicago taxi had hit her after she stepped off the curb in front of it. We never did ask her if it was on purpose. But for about a week I took a thermos of cold Whisky Sours up to that hospital room. -----

Thankfully, she recovered and went home to Wisconsin eventually. Many years later, I was singing at a festival up that way. I was putting my guitar in it's case, turned around, and there she was--in front of me.

Well, it was a great hug we shared right then and there. We both shared the same birthday-----and we agreed to be in touch every year on that day. But---it didn't happen. ----- So, Mark, that's the tale of my Frank Proffitt banjo--- and the lady friend connection to boot.

Wondrous warm recollections---all of 'em. ------- If it wasn't for time, we'd have to do everything all at once.

Art