Hey, speaking of Christmas music, here's a little experiment I'm conducting. I ask people if they have ever heard Bach's Mass in B Minor, arguably the greatest musical masterpiece of all time. Of course, this wave of lifeless and unknowing ennui passes over them. And I know what they're thinking too, "oh no! he's gonna launch into some know-it-all lecture, and I'm gonna have to hear the word "arguably" yet again from this guy." But, when I surprise them and ask, instead, if they have ever heard Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer, why then, we're having a party. Yeah, sure, everybody knows that song! I love that song!
So, you very well might wonder, what does this have to do with my playing the five-string banjo, and how does it involve a relatively unsung hero of extraordinary gifts ...
Here's how it was. In, I guess it was, 1968, at the age of about 13, I had restrung my guitar like a banjo, and figured out The Foggy Mountain breakdown by ear, pretty much. My parents were impressed enough that they rented me a cheap banjo, and when I showed continued dedication to it, they offered to buy me a real one. We scoured the San Francisco Chronicle want ads until we eventually saw a Vega Earl Scruggs Model for sale. My mother and I drove up to the office of this young veterinarian in San Francisco. The guy, one Dr. Shropshire, was the nicest guy you could imagine, and right there in the office, he pulled out the five-string and launched into Foggy Mountain Breakdown. He was great! And I had never actually heard anyone play one of these things in person before. It was the most exciting moment of my life up to then, and I was inspired.
He was waiting for a new banjo to come in, and we had to wait a couple of (long) weeks to get that one. My mother drove up to get it while I was in school, and I watched my last period clock tick, and slow asymptotically as the school day tried not to ever end.
It was a great banjo, and I taught myself to play it properly. I won the Topanga Canyon Banjo Contest in 1973, and did a fair amount of playing and a little session work throughout college and after. After winning a couple of contests, I sold the Vega to a kid in high school, and one of these days, I'll have to ask him what happened to it. I bought a nice Mastertone RB-800 then, which was eventaully stolen (someone has that hot, gold plated thing somewhere, oh well ...), and now I have an old 1933 RB3 Mastertone archtop, with a rebuilt five-string neck.
So, I have never forgotten Dr. Shropshire, and not long ago, I was surfing the net, came across the name "Shropshire" in another context. Of course, I was seized by the impulse to do a Google search for "veterinarian AND Shropshire" to see if I could find this wonderful man.
You know where this is going, right? There he was, Dr. Elmo Shropshire, jockey, veterinarian, banjo-player, marathon runner, and singer/songwriter of Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer. I like to fell out, when I saw that. I cackled with delight!
I immediately sent him a letter (much like this) which he posted here). And, he took the time to listen to some of my current playing (available here). He then wrote me the most gracious and generous e-mail I have ever received, complimenting my playing, telling me a little more about himself, thanking me for the e-mail, and saying it put him into a cloud of nostalgia. I was really very touched.
He has had the opportinity to play his tunes with many major stars, thanks largely to the "Grandma" tune, he has maintained his love of animals, and he has continued to play music in little places in California just for the pure fun of it.
The first time around, well over 30 years ago, Dr. Elmo inspired me with his love of the banjo, his skill, and his warmth. This time around, he still inspires me with those, but he is also living proof that you don't have to go around being like everyone else - you can march to your own drummer, not with defiance and oppositionality, but with passion and enthusiasm, and you can make it work, for yourself and those around you.
Thanks, Dr. Elmo! ... again ...
(0)
