Thursday, April 30
It’s like slow torture for planners, these last few days before an outside musical event. Crates of money have been spent, talent has been assembled from far and wide, t-shirts have been printed and schedules have been calculated to the last minute, all of which can be blown to smithereens at the drop of a hat by nail guns calling themselves thunderstorms. There has not been a sniff of rain in our area for more than 40 days, but now there are ugly members of the dreaded Cumulonimbus gang sitting in the anteroom ready to hear that magic word---“Next!”
It’s not as if a jolly sun-shower is in the offing. Mr. Weather is promising noisy boomers, brisk winds and enough precipitation to wash your Green Room out to sea. If the venue allows, should you postpone for a day? Not yet, the tyrannical Florida weather is just waiting for you to do that so it can take a 24-hour snooze and come back the next day.
Fortunately for you, the first day of your weekend features an indoor show which looks to be packed and all your friends will be there. It should be a time of satisfaction, of reaping your rewards, an occasion to sit back and bask in the sunlight of a job well-done. Instead, you’re up at night, visions dancing through your head of lightning bolts like those Billy Batson used to conjure up when he yelled "SHAZAM!” Waiter, this is an outrage, there’s a large fly in my soup!
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| Showstoppers Wil Maring & Robert Bowlin (lead photo and this one by Rick Davidson) |
Friday, May 1, 9 a.m.
Before we tackle the elements, there’s a show to put on. That wry little devil Wil Maring is coming in from Bramblebranch, Illinois tonight with the partner she politely calls “Mr. Bowlin.” Robert Bowlin, master guitar player, fiddle virtuoso and who knows what else plays his role as the long-suffering husband to a T, generally deferring to Wil but every so often getting off a muted zinger. Maring plays bass, sings like an angel, writes lovely songs and invariably leaves her audiences tickled pink. There’s a cruel rumor afoot that Robert might fiddle up Orange Blossom Special tonight because Bill is 85 and can only wait so long. Generally, Mr. B. eschews the song so people won’t think he’s a showoff, but this is an obvious emergency so we’re hoping he’ll relent.
The mayor of Gainesville, good old Harvey Ward, will be in house to introduce his local buddy Mike Boulware. Mike’s been on the sidelines for awhile with a nefarious illness he finally wrangled into submission and he’s eager to get back to work and cast his pearls before swine (not Harvey…the rest of us). Boulware has some new songs to show off and will open the show for Wil and Robert, a fitting move since he’s the man who first brought them to Gainesville for the Hogtown Opry in 2023. Maybe Mr. Bowlin will let him sit in as the train whistle on Orange Blossom Special. Not that I’m pushing.
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| Bill with faithful Indian companion AMK (photo by Wendy Thornton) |
Friday, May 1, 3 p.m.
My favorite emcee Anna Marie Kirkpatrick keeps sending me texts of optimistic weather forecasts from the Gainesville Sun, completely ignoring the bleaker ones from the Weather Channel, AccuWeather and Dan Bland, the weather man. Meanwhile, Gina Hawkins is shoveling coal into her imposing Karma Machine while artists Gary Borse and William Schaff are chanting Ho’oponopono prayers to drive the clouds away. Gary has friends in high places, so you never know.
The outlook is bleak, but as Davey Crockett once said, “Be sure you’re right—then go ahead!” Of course, we all know what happened to Davey. We’ll start with the Last Tango In Gainesville movie at noon on the Heartwood lawn and carry on from there. If Will Thacker’s Gathering of the Tribes gets three or four hours to reune and raise a glass before the storms invade, it beats nothing. And we’re not ready to give up on Ho’oponopono. The practice emanated from the depths of the wise and sophisticated Hawaiian culture, which is nothing to sneeze at. After all, look where they live.
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| Mo' better Mike (photo by Rick Davidson) |
The evening of May 1 was lovely to look at, delightful to hold, a rare time when the planets aligned, the prince nudged a slipper onto Cinderella’s foot and everyone lived happily ever after. The weather was clear, everyone arrived on time, the mayor surprised Mike Boulware with a nice introduction and 70 paying customers filled the room with bonhomie, joi de vivre and appreciation for the vast talents of the performers.
First, Uncle Remus Boulware roasted a few marshmallows over the campfire and spun wonderful tales of Bre’r Rabbit and Bre’r Fox before inching into some emotional melodies that made ladies weep and grizzled old men clear their throats. Then those gypsy rovers from over the hill, Wil Maring and Robert Bolin showed up with their magic flutes, guitars and fiddles and went about their business.
Many of you may never have heard of Wil and Robert but anyone who has experienced their charm and massive talent always comes back for more. Their repertoire is unique, tough to label, a combination of Maring’s thoughtful and lovely originals, a couple of old standards and a tablespoon of swing, up from a teaspoon. Robert Bowlin may not be a household name but musicians know who he is and what he’s capable of with guitar or fiddle. Aware of Bill’s withering age and predilections, Robert finally acceded to his three-year-old request to play the Orange Blossom Special, but don’t ask him to do it again.
Nobody’s in a hurry to go home when these two are lighting up the stage with clever tunes and revealing tales of the bizarre lives of poor souls addicted to playing music for a living, but there’s a grand finale for everything, including enthralling acoustics. With a sigh of regret, the room rings with applause and appreciation and Friday night is done, a sad victim of the sleepy Heartwood cleanup crew. Fortunately, there’s always tomorrow when they’ll be back again to spice up the afternoon set of Patchwork on the big stage.
Day is done, gone the sun and there is little hope for succor in Mudville. The rainclouds rattle in the west and pick up their pace, off to spoil the next day’s party. Not a solitary forecaster offers encouragement. We kneel down by the side or our bed and chant a few Ho’oponoponos. Hey, you never know.
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| Chasing Rabbits Band (photo by Rick Davidson) |
The Heartwood team has decided to set up for music inside and out. Paul Boharski, privy to exclusive weather reports known only to the Portuguese Navy, is vacillating. “If we can get by this one morning storm we should be okay until after two,” he predicts. We agree to run the Last Tango movie inside and set up for the first band outside at one. Everybody is concerned about the possibility of high wind gusts later on, but one catastrophe at a time, please.
People start to drift in, stopping at the merch table to talk or buy a t-shirt. Nobody is especially optimistic, especially Cathy DeWitt who keeps texting advice to go inside. Though devoid of raindrops at Heartwood, it’s pouring at her house. Gina Hawkins and Vicki Bordeaux email to say they’re also under fire. We call Gary Borse, who is still chanting in his back yard. “You can’t expect Ho’oponopono to cover the whole city,” he scolds. “It’s a focused phenomenon covering a limited area. Don’t worry, though. Heartwood will be alright.” Okay, Gary, if you say so.
A slow stream of weather-defiant ex-hippies meanders in. “It rained at Woodstock, too!” one of them remembers. “Yeah, but we were 21 then,” grumps his dubious wife. We realize we’re going to take a bath—if you’ll pardon the expression—on t-shirt sales. Messages rain in asking about cancellation but we promise the show will go on. The crowd grows to about half the size of the Last Tango earlybird brigade with still no precipitation. We feel like the Dutch kid with his finger in the dike. We know the apocalypse is coming, we just don’t know when.
Fifteen minutes into the first act, a drizzle begins, then a very light rain. The band, Chasing Rabbits, plays on like the band on the Titanic, waiting for disaster to strike. Instead---amazingly---the rain relents, retreats, ground down to nothing either by unusual good luck or the efforts of faux Hawaiians chanting in the hills of Fairfield. People are looking at the weather on their cell phones and seeing storms overhead, but there is nothing. Call it what you like, I’m going with the chanters. The day…hallelujah!…is saved, the principals exult and the crowd thickens. It’s the ultimate boon, the successful shot in the dark, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s the Hawaiian Miracle of The Grand Finale!
Heroes Of The Day
1. The Audience. In an era when professional abstainers--those who strive to find a reason never to leave the house--abound, let’s lift a toast to those who always show up. Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of pessimistic weather forecasters stays these rugged individuals from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. The frantic meteorologists, rabid for rain, didn’t help, painting an ugly picture of torrential downpours, stage-blasting lightning and powerful winds, the better to keep you cowering under the bed. Let’s hear it for the likes of Gary Gordon, encumbered by a grumpy body but possessed of substantial grit and a stellar wife. The ex-mayor wobbled in, did his bit on stage and sat through the entire show. Not to say there aren’t people with legitimate dilemmas, of course. Regular customer Jill Rosier gets a day pass because a tree fell on her house. Trump that, Michael Goettee.
2. The Bands. Michael Derry and Chasing Rabbits showed the patience of Job as their 1 pm set was delayed 20 minutes by introductions and an unexpected award given to Bill. Once unleashed, they went at their task with a vengeance, rousing a fretful crowd previously staring at the storm clouds. Eventually, a light rain fell halfway through their set, lasting about 15 minutes and running off not a soul. The band played on.
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| Patchwork band (photo by Rick Davidson) |
The Rabbits were followed by Cathy DeWitt’s long-lived group, Patchwork. Cathy, who was thrilled to be high and dry, has been in every Bill Killeen event in one incarnation or another, performing with The Relics at the ‘22 Tango and with Patchwork at all three Hogtown Oprys. Patchwork provides a nice change of pace from the rock ‘n’ roll bands, playing everything from original Florida folk, country and bluegrass to forties swing and rhythm & blues This time, they had Wil Maring and Robert Bowlin with them to add to the fun.
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| Couch Messiahs (photo by John Hawkins) |
The Couch Messiahs, now about twenty years in existence, might be Gainesville’s most popular band. Mike Marino, Don David and company have a broad set list, playing a mix of Americana, roots music, R&B and country, bringing a high-energy sound to the stage and always delighting a growing fan base.
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| Nancy Luca Band |
Over the course of the day, the audience at these affairs ebbs and flows as fairgoers opt for lunch off the grounds, go home to feed Spot and Puff or reune with friends in a quieter setting. They always return, however, for local phenom Nancy Luca. The crowd swelled at the Last Tango In Gainesville when she jogged on stage and the same thing happened Saturday. If “beloved” is an overused word, and it is, it’s entirely appropriate where Nancy is concerned. Unsullied by success, she acknowledges everyone as if they’re old buddies, she poses for photos with anyone who asks (even Randall Roffe) and she never even inquires what she’s getting paid, despite flying to and from L.A. on her own dime. Then, of course, she goes on stage and kicks ass with her old pals, Anna Marie, Tom Holtz, Fritz Knaggs and George Covington III.
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| Uncle John's Band |
After days of agonizing over the choices, we hired Uncle John’s Band from Tampa to close the show. Paco Paco and FATWOOD did the job at The Last Tango with a grand flourish and we were looking for another strong finisher this time. Gina Hawkins and I eventually pared the list to her favorite pair and I opted for this Grateful Dead cover band because GD music is universally loved but also due to the fact they had played Gainesville earlier in the year. “The audience loved them.” said Chelsea Carnes of Heartwood. “The people were up and moving.” The price was a little more than we usually pay, but there are six players and they had to come up from Tampa. “I guarantee you won’t be disappointed,” said Rich Whiteley, the head man. We weren’t. Faced with fast-dropping temperatures and a post-Luca dwindling crowd, Uncle John’s Band stopped many would-be departers in their tracks with their first number. It’s no easy task following Nancy’s energetic set, but this outfit was ready to wake up the echoes. It’s safe to say that virtually noone was sitting during their set. One lifetime Deadhead who accepts no imitations stared at me in wonder and said, “Close your eyes and that’s The Dead on stage. I can’t believe it!” After the show was over, I told Rich, “If I do this again, you won’t be last on the bill.” Then, I thought about it and turned around. “On second thought, of course you will.”
We decided to have a few friends of the bands make introductions this year. Grand Finale publicist Will Thacker brought on Patchwork and David Atherton introduced Couch Messiahs with aplomb, but David Hammer lit up the afternoon with his Introducers Hall of Fame uniform bought for $43 from China. When Nancy Luca saw it, she made David a deal he couldn’t refuse and is now the proud owner. Those three introducers, by the way, are people who always show up and ask no questions when called upon.
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| Richard Parker & Will Thacker, champions of justice |
Something should be said about Richard Wynn Parker, president of the Subterranean Circus Fan Club. Richard’s unsolicited publicity bulletins for our events are all over the internet, you couldn’t avoid them if you tried. He operates in a whirlwind, spinning out colorful hype and endless fantasies from his fan cave in Jax. Mr. P. used to travel the Gainesville route in the good old days as a restaurant supply salesman and made friends everywhere he went. He is an unparalleled example of a caring husband, a great friend and a stoic who “won’t let the old man in.” as Clint Eastwood likes to say. Live long and prosper, Richard!
4. The Heartwood Guys. In Chelsea’s absence, Stirling Myles carried the ball and did it well, smoothing out the wrinkles, laying out the chairs, nudging me to keep the schedule on track. We started out 20 minutes late after the opening intros and awards and we finished on time at 8:15. Stirling was so impressed he went home early. Paul Boharski, production manager and master of the Heartwood sound machine, covered himself in glory Friday night with the sound quality at the inside stage. Mike Boulware called it one of his favorite listening rooms anywhere; Wil Maring and Robert Bowlin were just as impressed. The sound checks Saturday were challenging but kept to under 20 minutes. All the musicians we talked to were upbeat about Paul’s steady-as-she-goes operation.
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| Da Mayor, His Excellency Harvey Ward (photo by Rick Davidson) |
5. Gainesville Mayor Harvey Ward. In how many towns does the mayor show up to introduce musicians and deliver proclamations at a rock ‘n’ roll reunion? Okay, maybe Berkeley. Harvey graciously did all this and even hung around to take in a few acts and describe his own abbreviated musical career. We’re trying to encourage him to take up a new instrument for future extravaganzas because accordion players are in very short supply around here.
6. The Homegirls. Thanks to Julie Osborne and Laura Benedetti for their many long hours at our multi-lingual t-shirt table and to my wife, Siobhan, for bringing pheasant-under-glass lunches and eclair desserts, traveling back and forth to Fairfield to feed the animals and putting up with all the aggravation these affairs produce.
Goodbye and good luck to the inimitable Regina Coeli/Gina Hawkins, my significant other in all the Hogtown Oprys and this Grand Finale. She has abandoned us for the sweet life in lovely Brevard, North Carolina, where she will now be known as Mrs. Ed.
Finally, to my pal Richard Parker, who firmly insists there will be another reunion event: Don’t bet on it, Richard, but if there is it will be for everyone who has made it past the American life expectancy age of 79. We will call it Overtime and bring in Willie Nelson and Dolly Parton to play. Will Thacker will juggle a dozen poisonous snakes, Anna Marie will lead the two-day dance marathon and Gina will parachute in for a visit.
Happy Trails to you til we meet again.
That’s all, folks…
Grand Finale shirts still available in both colors and five sizes. $30 to Ringmaster, PO BOX 970, Fairfield, Florida 32634. All shirtholders get free admission to Overtime.
