Gamble Rogers
On my recent trip to St. Augustine I attended the 13th Annual Gamble Rogers Festival at the St. Johns County Fairgrounds. Gamble Rogers was a legendary singer/songwriter/storyteller who inspired folk singers and storytellers across the country. In 1991 he died a tragic death attempting to rescue a drowning man in the surf. Many mourned his passing, and every year his followers and devotees gather to honor his memory.
I could not think of any place on earth I'd rather be than the fairgrounds on a gorgeous Sunday morning. I arrived early; the grass was still wet with dew. Pickers and storytellers were drinking their morning coffee, vendors were setting up tents to sell handmade jewelry and musical instruments, and the smell of funnel cakes mixed with the sweet aroma of freshly cut grass. Folding chairs were set up to face the stage in the Baby Grand Theater, a nod to one of the fictional locales in Rogers' Oklawaha County. (The Baby Grand Theater was a cracked concrete slab in a large metal building rapidly heating up under the Florida sun.) Pickers were everywhere plucking away at their instruments; on the folding chairs, leaning against the cinder block building that housed the showers, and sitting on the grass under the oak tree outside. I could feel the excitement growing in the air. One by one, musicians, storytellers and spectators filled the metal chairs. I could hear snatches of conversation; folks talking about when they knew Gamble, anecdotes and whale tales. Sadness and joy abounded equally.
I never met Gamble but I was beginning to feel caught up in the emotion that permeated the Baby Grand. One by one songwriters and storytellers took the stage to talk about Gamble and the influence he had on their lives. Songs were sung for Gamble, and one in particular written from Gamble's point of view had me sobbing. I was not alone. Then storyteller Willy Claflin took the stage. He told a story within a story. Like me, Willy had never met Gamble. He recounted the time when he first heard Gamble's voice on an audio recording and was instantly mesmerized. Then he told the story he heard on that recording, a hilarious tale about the inhabitants of Oklawaha County. The sweltering Baby Grand Theater dissolved around us; the hard metal folding chairs became a magic carpet that transported the entire audience to Willy's office in California, then swiftly to Oklawaha County. Every person was riveted, no one blinked, the only sounds were Willy's voice and soft laughter. When the story ended we were jolted back to the cracked concrete slab in the middle of a grassy field. I felt like I had been holding my breath for a long time, and with my first intake of air the sounds and smells of the fairgrounds returned, along with the oppressive heat.
Finally, I knew. I knew why storytellers and folk singers gather to reminisce and to pass stories and songs down through generations. I knew why Gamble Rogers was deserving of the adulation and respect he still receives, even from folks who never met him. I felt humbled and honored to be a part of the tribute to a great man, a kind man, and a legendary man.
If you'd like to know more about Gamble Rogers, visit www.gamblerogers.com.
I could not think of any place on earth I'd rather be than the fairgrounds on a gorgeous Sunday morning. I arrived early; the grass was still wet with dew. Pickers and storytellers were drinking their morning coffee, vendors were setting up tents to sell handmade jewelry and musical instruments, and the smell of funnel cakes mixed with the sweet aroma of freshly cut grass. Folding chairs were set up to face the stage in the Baby Grand Theater, a nod to one of the fictional locales in Rogers' Oklawaha County. (The Baby Grand Theater was a cracked concrete slab in a large metal building rapidly heating up under the Florida sun.) Pickers were everywhere plucking away at their instruments; on the folding chairs, leaning against the cinder block building that housed the showers, and sitting on the grass under the oak tree outside. I could feel the excitement growing in the air. One by one, musicians, storytellers and spectators filled the metal chairs. I could hear snatches of conversation; folks talking about when they knew Gamble, anecdotes and whale tales. Sadness and joy abounded equally.
I never met Gamble but I was beginning to feel caught up in the emotion that permeated the Baby Grand. One by one songwriters and storytellers took the stage to talk about Gamble and the influence he had on their lives. Songs were sung for Gamble, and one in particular written from Gamble's point of view had me sobbing. I was not alone. Then storyteller Willy Claflin took the stage. He told a story within a story. Like me, Willy had never met Gamble. He recounted the time when he first heard Gamble's voice on an audio recording and was instantly mesmerized. Then he told the story he heard on that recording, a hilarious tale about the inhabitants of Oklawaha County. The sweltering Baby Grand Theater dissolved around us; the hard metal folding chairs became a magic carpet that transported the entire audience to Willy's office in California, then swiftly to Oklawaha County. Every person was riveted, no one blinked, the only sounds were Willy's voice and soft laughter. When the story ended we were jolted back to the cracked concrete slab in the middle of a grassy field. I felt like I had been holding my breath for a long time, and with my first intake of air the sounds and smells of the fairgrounds returned, along with the oppressive heat.
Finally, I knew. I knew why storytellers and folk singers gather to reminisce and to pass stories and songs down through generations. I knew why Gamble Rogers was deserving of the adulation and respect he still receives, even from folks who never met him. I felt humbled and honored to be a part of the tribute to a great man, a kind man, and a legendary man.
If you'd like to know more about Gamble Rogers, visit www.gamblerogers.com.
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