Norm Says...
These may be organized - evenually - somehow, or not. Come back often to read the new additions and see what happens.
Pete Seeger
My first folk music experience was a Pete Seeger Concert in the community hall of a synagogue in Skokie, Illinois in 1959. There had to be 2000 people there, and when the concert was through, about 100 people just stayed, singing as many of the songs that Pete had sung. He was so impressed, he stayed with those of us who remained and we sang deep into the night. The highpoint of that night for me was to actually get to play his 12 string guitar! Will never forget it! The most unselfish man I have ever met!
Fred Holstein
I first met Fred Holstein at the Old Town School of Folk Music on North Ave, before the Old Town Folklore Center existed. It was a warm, spring Saturday afternoon between classes and the "2nd Half". Dawn Greening was serving cookies and coffee and Fred was going to perform at the 2nd half. He had a Vega banjo and I was closest to him, so he asked me to hold the instrument. I had never met him before and did not know who he was. I took the banjo and looked at it. To my surprise, the 5th string decided, at that moment, to give up the ghost, right there in my hands! Of course, at that time, no one carried extra strings and there were no banjo classes on Saturday. If that happened, you were out of luck. Fred came back to get the banjo and I did not know what to say. I was shaking in my shoes. The look of disappointment on the face of this man was almost frightening. Then, that smile came to his lips and he said, "Oh well, it happens!", threw his arm around my shoulder and gave me my first Fred Holstein bear hug! That was in Spring, 1963.
How MadDawg Got His Name
One night I was working as bassist with Fred Holstein. Freddy was a singular performer and very seldom worked with a sideman as it meant rehearsing. (We rehearsed about 10 minutes! The fit was perfect from the get go!) When he did, he was reluctant to "give stage" or, basically, allow the sideman a chance to play out, a solo as you would have it. This night he opted to do that and just nodded at me. Well, I took FULL advantage of the situation, played very strongly---even too strongly, I'm afraid! When I finally realized I had stepped out a bit too far, I sheepishly fell back into the groove of the bass line and laid back. Fred was just sitting on his stool, looking at me with a smile that could melt steel! He was amused and pissed off, all at the same time! He let me play the groove alone, took out a cigarette, lit it, bit down on his back teeth so the cigarette was lodged between his upper molars, turned and smiled at the audience---the cigarette did NOT move---they laughed. He then turned to me and uttered the three words that would mark me for life---"Down Mad Dog!!" The audience exploded and I was named.
Bob Gibson
Imagine the excitement of a teenager in the 1960's when he was going to see his "Idol"! I had never seen Bob Gibson live until 1964. He was appearing at a club in Skokie, a product of the folk boom, aimed at teenagers and young adults of the day. Non-alcoholic drinks and ice cream creations! There was a 6:00 PM show, followed by one at 8 PM and 10:30 PM. The place was dark--all you could see was the stage area and the shadows of a table. The cover was $2.50 with a $2.00 minimum! Bob played for a half hour and disappeared. My friends and I hung around to try and meet him. We felt ripped off. Persistence was my middle name, so I camped out and finally met him. I got some pointers about some of his tunes and, when we parted, I said someday we would perform together, Sure enough, in the summer of 1970, I got a phone call from New York, asking me to accompany Bob on bass violin during a two week run at Richard Harding's newly located Quiet Knight. A fantasy come true!
Steve Goodman
It was a hot summer in 1983, especially around the time of the last Chicagofest, that annual celebration that took place at Navy Pier for so many years. This being the last one and, owing to the decrepit condition of the Pier, the fest was moved in 1982 to the environs of Soldier Field and Grant Park. It was on the last day of the Festival that the infamous "Chicago Shorty", Steve Goodman, held court on the Country Stage. The opening act was the Jump in the Saddle Band (of "The Curly Shuffle" fame). Their bass player was going to play with Steve during the last show, but she was also quite pregnant at the time and bowed out at the last minute. I had been playing with a few friends on the rock stage and had strolled over to see Steve. When I heard that there was no bass player, I offered. It was an unbelievable moment for me. Some 17 years earlier, Steve had come into a place where I was appearing and auditioned. He was promptly told he would never amount to anything and was told to leave by the owner. By December of that year he was headlining at the Earl of Old Town, where we shared the stage on many occasions. To play bass with him again was a treat! When we finished he greeted some people from the stage and hurriedly moved to the trailer/dressing room. I followed a few minutes later and was totally shocked to see the same man who was such a spark plug on the stage just a bit earlier, looking so drawn out and pale. He was getting a treatment from his companion, Maple, who is also a trained medical professional. I quickly started to excuse myself when Steve ordered me into the room. We spent about 15 or 20 minutes chatting, then he said how "it was like it always was when we played together!" He struggled to sit up and laid a typical Steve hug on me. We said our farewells and good wishes to each other and out families. It was hard to leave as I knew it was going to be the last time we would ever see each other. The irony is that we spoke about the Cubs, who clinched their division the next season, 2 weeks after Steve's passing.