A little on-earth version of heaven sits at the corner of Antioch Church Road and Coot Adams Road in Ashford.
It’s a guitar case nestled in a bed of pine straw where an expensive pick was surely lost earlier. It’s four banjos at once, outnumbering guitars two to one after 6 o’clock, with mandolins and a fiddle and an upright bass. It’s Orion in the sky above hearing Bill Monroe.
It’s at the Historic Dupree School, where the Bluegrass Revival Festival was held on Saturday.
An incredible lineup of bands performed for a crowd sitting in folding chairs and on blankets in front of the schoolhouse — but the party was everywhere. People hung out in campers and enjoyed buying local goods from booths. Food stands sold everything from seafood boiled peanuts to fried Oreos to monstrous hot dogs. Children ran around and played, their faces painted like fairies and tigers from the booth set up near the stage.
I rolled up in the morning and former county commissioner Doug Sinquefield greeted me, dressed in sheriff’s garb, as he had been deputized to handle security for the event.
I’d have called him plain giddy.
That was the whole attitude of the event — there was this palpable and unending utter happiness that flowed through everyone.
From the first reunion band, to the headlining Tennessee Bluegrass Band, the joy was everywhere, especially as leaders inducted Dupree legend Mr. Harper into their hall of fame.
The event was a huge labor of love from so many benefactors. Dupree School Board Chairman Steve Smith said he was immensely grateful to everyone who helped, whether that help was grant money; money from the city of Ashford and Houston County; the support from Representative Paul Lee and Senator Donnie Chesteen; personal donations, one of them being $5,000 donated by Sinquefield’s son in his name; or what Smith called “sweat equity,” the hard work of the army of volunteers, many of whom are in their 70s and 80s.
“Everybody contributes, and it is a joint effort,” he said. “It transcends beyond volunteerism.”
It somehow seems like an understatement to simply call the Bluegrass Revival a success.
Smith said that while final numbers were still being counted, easily 900 people were at the birthplace of Alabama bluegrass, and all proceeds are going straight back to Dupree School’s rehabilitation.
“This is a great example of what local people with a great vision can put in play,” said Houston County Commissioner Tracy Adams. “This is it. This is as good as it gets.”
All the cards fell in their favor. At their first Bluegrass Revival, banjos had to play over tornado sirens before attendees finally ducked for cover from bad weather; at their second, some morning rain turned into incredible winds throughout the day.
“(This year) the only thing I could hear a complaint about was the pollen,” Smith said. “God smiled on us. He gave us perfect weather.”
The all-day affair attracted visitors from places such as Chattanooga and Macon and Huntsville and Charlotte.
“We want this to be a significant marker on the map that brings people to this country crossroads,” Smith said. “It’s almost like a family reunion.”
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The real takeaway: it was a family affair.
That’s what Jerry Richards called the whole day.
He’s been playing bluegrass at Dupree School for a long time — he supplied a tent and chairs for people to sit behind the schoolhouse and play on their own if they so pleased.
“All this is family,” he told me just after 8 p.m. while we walked to catch the final performance of the Tennessee Bluegrass Band.
I had spent most of the day with Jerry, Charles Elmore, Glen Tison, and Bruce Land.
Charles was one of many who told me a fundamental part of bluegrass was finding the shade tree and gathering under it to jam.
“It’s a lot of fun,” Bruce said. “For us musicians, it’s better than anything else.”
“It wears my fingers out,” Jerry interjected.
Glen said jamming takes away much of the pressure of being onstage; most of the men had played in bands for decades.
“When you’re up there, it’s a job,” Glen said. “You’ve got to do it a certain way, no mistakes.”
Rodney Outlaw and his wife Kay were up from Panama City — he went by the cooler-sounding “Outlaw.” He said he’d been rolling with many of the people there since the ‘90s.
“It’s so good to see this kind of crowd, my heart swells up inside of me,” he said. “I’m so thankful that Steve and all the others… have contributed time and money towards the preservation of the building.
“They’re preserving this genre of music. This is really what made America.”
He said there was a certain magic about bluegrass.
“You don’t have sheet music,” he said. “You’re not held to a lot of the forces as far as music goes.”
He acted as the bandleader for much of Friday and Saturday.
“They come up, and somebody calls a key out,” he said. “All of the sudden, somebody intros a song, and it just goes around.”
He said the ability to stay quick on your feet — or quick with your fingers — was a hard-earned skill.
“It takes years for these people to get where they are.”
My dad joined in the jam, and I saw him keenly watching what Jerry was doing most of the day.
While I helped Dad carry his Martin guitar and beautiful ‘70s-sound dobro back to the truck, he said, “I like playing with Jerry — I always learn something.”
I realized I had, too; Glen gave me a mandolin lesson, even though I haven’t picked up my $250 mandolin in several months, and the tops of my left fingers were shamefully uncalloused. I watched and learned the mastery of keeping up. I learned lots of old beautiful songs about blue eyes and mail trains and Brown Mountain.
I came away from the festival with that familiar pang in my stomach and brain: the yearning to know more.
“Get exposed to this and see what it’s all about, and you’ll just fall in love with it,” Outlaw said.
That’s what happens at one of these events: you’re welcomed with open arms, without question. Just being here means you’re loved.
If you missed the Bluegrass Revival, fret not — make plans to visit Dupree School on the Fourth of July for their Fourth Fest, where there will be plenty of country, bluegrass and Southern rock. It’s a specific flavor of Americana Smith calls Alabama-cana.
