WHY THERE’S A BLUEGRASS CLUB IN BRITISH COLUMBIA
- PeterT
Back when the earth’s crust was cooling (the late ‘70s), I was part of Vancouver Co-op Radio’s first country music show. We’d already established programming based on local music, blues, jazz, and folk, so a mix of bluegrass, old time, classic country, swing, rockabilly, and country rock seemed appropriate. Titled “Back In the Saddle,” we began the show at 10 pm on Wednesday nights, and finished … whenever we decided to stop. In those days, there was no overnight broadcasting; the operator of the last program simply turned off the station until the “Morning Show” folks arrived.
Because of this program, I became acquainted with Bruce Harvie, a luthier who lived on Orcas Island in Washington and shared my enthusiasm for the Stanley Brothers. Whenever I’d talk on the air about shutting down for the night, he’d call and implore me to play a few more sets of Carter and Ralph while he worked on a mandolin. I never met, but also became familiar with the all-night shift at Vancouver’s main post office. They, too, would call to request continuing the show, although they were more interested in fast songs to help them continue sorting and doing other mindless tasks.
Then, as now, I included a calendar of upcoming events in the show, usually around midnight. One week, as I was announcing a concert in Seattle, I began complaining about the lack of bluegrass events in Vancouver. The phone rang, and the caller suggested that I should start presenting touring bands.
“Why don’t you?” sez I. “I’m doing a radio show.”
“Let’s meet and talk about it,” sez he.
He turned out to be Alan Richardson, and brought along a banjo player named Don Mallais to lunch at a Greek restaurant in the place that later became the Alma St. Cafe, home to June Katz, Fraser MacPherson, Oliver Gannon, and other Vancouver jazzers in the ‘80s. We talked about various scenarios and what sort of a bluegrass community existed in Vancouver, and left with some hopes.
Shortly thereafter, I attended the Puget Sound Guitar Workshop, returning with the fire of a newbie and the acquaintance of Sue Malcolm. Sue began organizing jam sessions at Jericho Beach, and then the UBC Rugby Club (until a beer strike shut it down) when the weather got chilly. Alan, Don, and I attended, bringing (and discovering) a few kindred spirits. Within a few weeks, we got a pitch from the newly-opened Soft Rock Cafe, offering us the place on their otherwise-dark Monday nights in return for all the refreshment income. We had our next jam there, and realized we had the beginnings of a bluegrass club.
BTW, that’s why Mondays have always been bluegrass event nights in Vancouver; turns out that it works well for American bands to play Portland/Seattle/Bellingham on F/S/S, and then stay over for a date north of the 49th. No grand plan, just a fortuitous accident.
Alan hosted a meeting at his house with those interested in developing this scene: his then-wife Louise, Alan Wood, Dave Lidstone, Sue, Don, and myownself. We decided to call ourselves the Pacific Bluegrass & Heritage Society; “Pacific” because we didn’t want to be seen as limited to Vancouver, “Heritage” because "old time” or “old-timey” were nowhere near as hip then as they are now.
(NOTE: The organization had a name change in 2018 to: Pacific Bluegrass & Old Time Music Society.)
At the same time, I’d been working with Vancouver Folk Music Festival big cheese Gary Cristall, teaching him how to do radio so he could publicize the festival on the Co-op Radio show we invented, “What the Folk,” and making annoying suggestions about who he should book for the festival. He called me, maybe at that very meeting with what became the first PB&HS board, to inquire if our fledgling group wanted to co-present (i.e., share the risk) a concert with him. It seems that Bill Monroe’s agent had approached Gary about doing the first Blue Grass Boys concert in Vancouver, and the Folk Fest didn’t have enough in the bank to pay the desired guarantee.
It didn’t take us long to decide.
We went all-in less than six weeks after our initial gathering, and had two sold-out shows with Bill, Kenny Baker, Wayne Lewis, Butch Robins, and Mark Hembree. I got to MC and interview Bill, thrill to two fabulous sets (with an extremely enthusiastic audience), and wonder how hard can this bluegrass club thing could be. In the next few years, we presented the Blue Grass Boys again, along with other patriarchs (Ralph Stanley, Jim & Jesse, Osborne Brothers), contemporary bands (Hot Rize, NBB, New Grass Revival), and the best of the burgeoning British Columbia and Washington scenes. Dave Lidstone made several pilgrimages to Strawberry and Grass Valley, and, as a result, we also presented the Good Ol’ Persons, Vern Williams Band, Grant Street String Band, Blue Flame String Band, and other NorCal greats.
The concerts happened about once a month, and the other Mondays were split among jams, open stages, and workshops. We had absolutely no idea what we were doing when we started, but this seemed like (and turned out to be) a good way to operate. There was, of course, no IBMA back then, and we were unaware of similar organizations around North America. We just kept making it up as we went along, relying on touring musicians and Co-op Radio programmers to provide information about bands we should be booking, teaching each other some version of the canon (more Stanley-based than, say, the Monroe-based Bay Area scene, in part because of my and Rod Heinz’s record collections), and somehow managing to stay solvent.
Those involved in the PB&HS became more savvy after a few years, and the club survived several changes-of-venue and many changes in the volunteer base and leadership. It continues to thrive, about to celebrate its 45th anniversary, a testament to musical enthusiasms, the bluegrass and old time community, and lots of good luck. Current web site: https://www.pacificbluegrass.ca/
- PeterT
Back when the earth’s crust was cooling (the late ‘70s), I was part of Vancouver Co-op Radio’s first country music show. We’d already established programming based on local music, blues, jazz, and folk, so a mix of bluegrass, old time, classic country, swing, rockabilly, and country rock seemed appropriate. Titled “Back In the Saddle,” we began the show at 10 pm on Wednesday nights, and finished … whenever we decided to stop. In those days, there was no overnight broadcasting; the operator of the last program simply turned off the station until the “Morning Show” folks arrived.
Because of this program, I became acquainted with Bruce Harvie, a luthier who lived on Orcas Island in Washington and shared my enthusiasm for the Stanley Brothers. Whenever I’d talk on the air about shutting down for the night, he’d call and implore me to play a few more sets of Carter and Ralph while he worked on a mandolin. I never met, but also became familiar with the all-night shift at Vancouver’s main post office. They, too, would call to request continuing the show, although they were more interested in fast songs to help them continue sorting and doing other mindless tasks.
Then, as now, I included a calendar of upcoming events in the show, usually around midnight. One week, as I was announcing a concert in Seattle, I began complaining about the lack of bluegrass events in Vancouver. The phone rang, and the caller suggested that I should start presenting touring bands.
“Why don’t you?” sez I. “I’m doing a radio show.”
“Let’s meet and talk about it,” sez he.
He turned out to be Alan Richardson, and brought along a banjo player named Don Mallais to lunch at a Greek restaurant in the place that later became the Alma St. Cafe, home to June Katz, Fraser MacPherson, Oliver Gannon, and other Vancouver jazzers in the ‘80s. We talked about various scenarios and what sort of a bluegrass community existed in Vancouver, and left with some hopes.
Shortly thereafter, I attended the Puget Sound Guitar Workshop, returning with the fire of a newbie and the acquaintance of Sue Malcolm. Sue began organizing jam sessions at Jericho Beach, and then the UBC Rugby Club (until a beer strike shut it down) when the weather got chilly. Alan, Don, and I attended, bringing (and discovering) a few kindred spirits. Within a few weeks, we got a pitch from the newly-opened Soft Rock Cafe, offering us the place on their otherwise-dark Monday nights in return for all the refreshment income. We had our next jam there, and realized we had the beginnings of a bluegrass club.
BTW, that’s why Mondays have always been bluegrass event nights in Vancouver; turns out that it works well for American bands to play Portland/Seattle/Bellingham on F/S/S, and then stay over for a date north of the 49th. No grand plan, just a fortuitous accident.
Alan hosted a meeting at his house with those interested in developing this scene: his then-wife Louise, Alan Wood, Dave Lidstone, Sue, Don, and myownself. We decided to call ourselves the Pacific Bluegrass & Heritage Society; “Pacific” because we didn’t want to be seen as limited to Vancouver, “Heritage” because "old time” or “old-timey” were nowhere near as hip then as they are now.
(NOTE: The organization had a name change in 2018 to: Pacific Bluegrass & Old Time Music Society.)
At the same time, I’d been working with Vancouver Folk Music Festival big cheese Gary Cristall, teaching him how to do radio so he could publicize the festival on the Co-op Radio show we invented, “What the Folk,” and making annoying suggestions about who he should book for the festival. He called me, maybe at that very meeting with what became the first PB&HS board, to inquire if our fledgling group wanted to co-present (i.e., share the risk) a concert with him. It seems that Bill Monroe’s agent had approached Gary about doing the first Blue Grass Boys concert in Vancouver, and the Folk Fest didn’t have enough in the bank to pay the desired guarantee.
It didn’t take us long to decide.
We went all-in less than six weeks after our initial gathering, and had two sold-out shows with Bill, Kenny Baker, Wayne Lewis, Butch Robins, and Mark Hembree. I got to MC and interview Bill, thrill to two fabulous sets (with an extremely enthusiastic audience), and wonder how hard can this bluegrass club thing could be. In the next few years, we presented the Blue Grass Boys again, along with other patriarchs (Ralph Stanley, Jim & Jesse, Osborne Brothers), contemporary bands (Hot Rize, NBB, New Grass Revival), and the best of the burgeoning British Columbia and Washington scenes. Dave Lidstone made several pilgrimages to Strawberry and Grass Valley, and, as a result, we also presented the Good Ol’ Persons, Vern Williams Band, Grant Street String Band, Blue Flame String Band, and other NorCal greats.
The concerts happened about once a month, and the other Mondays were split among jams, open stages, and workshops. We had absolutely no idea what we were doing when we started, but this seemed like (and turned out to be) a good way to operate. There was, of course, no IBMA back then, and we were unaware of similar organizations around North America. We just kept making it up as we went along, relying on touring musicians and Co-op Radio programmers to provide information about bands we should be booking, teaching each other some version of the canon (more Stanley-based than, say, the Monroe-based Bay Area scene, in part because of my and Rod Heinz’s record collections), and somehow managing to stay solvent.
Those involved in the PB&HS became more savvy after a few years, and the club survived several changes-of-venue and many changes in the volunteer base and leadership. It continues to thrive, about to celebrate its 45th anniversary, a testament to musical enthusiasms, the bluegrass and old time community, and lots of good luck. Current web site: https://www.pacificbluegrass.ca/