I started in my first, I guess you’d say, professional band when I graduated from Boaz High School in 1981. I graduated in May and that summer, in June or July, the Warrior River Boys offered me a job playing banjo, and I started touring with them. They were a traditional bluegrass band that played Bill Monroe–type music. We had to wear the hats and the suits and all that, which I did for a while. During that time I learned a lot of banjo tunes and practiced singing harmony a lot. I sung baritone mostly. I stayed with that group from 1981 through 1985. Then I joined Wendy Bagwell and the Sunliters, a gospel group from Hiram, Georgia. I’d always loved their music, and Wendy was a great entertainer and a friend of our family. I got to watching him a lot onstage, and I saw how he could get the people just right there, so he helped me learn how to entertain. Playing with them gave me a lot of southern gospel background because they were southern gospel stars. They were big time back in their day. I toured with them a year before I got back into bluegrass ’cause my heart was wanting to get back into the old-time music. When I left Wendy’s group, I went back to playing with the Warrior River Boys for a couple of years. After that, I gave them my notice because I was basically wanting to do something different. I wasn’t what you’d call a band jumper because I would always give my notice and say, “Well, you know, I wanna do something else.” And they’d say, “Okay, bye. See ya.” And they’d keep playing. They are still playing today, and we play on some of the same shows sometimes.
After that, me and my uncle Kenny formed a group called the Sand Mountain Boys, which was a national touring group. We were four guys—me and my uncle and two guys from Florida, but me and Kenny were the Sand Mountain people. We kind of did our own thing. We quit wearing the hats and went a little more radical with the music. We basically got out of most of the traditional and did some stuff that we wanted to do. We even wrote some of our own songs. I don’t write much, but my uncle’s a good writer, so we were doing some of his stuff.
That went on till about ’96, and I got tired of that. I wanted to do something else; something else was calling me. With all the groups that I’d played with, I was the one that got out there and kind of emceed, and I was kind of the leader of the band, but not really. People would see me and they’d think, “Well, he’s our favorite ’cause he’s a banjo player, and he talks and he dances.” People started telling me, “You need to form your own group; put your name out there. Put Gary Waldrep out there instead of the ‘blah, blah, blah boys.’ Put your name and your face out there.” So that’s what I did. In 1996 I just quit all of the groups I was in. I thought, “I don’t want to be a sideman no more. I’m either gonna do this thing and be my own leader, or I’m just gonna play for the fun of it and go get a job,” so I put my name out with The Gary Waldrep Band. I let everybody in the band shine. I don’t hog the show. Mindy sings half the songs in our group. Donna don’t sing, but if she wants to do a special, she does. Kenny plays his specials on his fiddle. It’s not just Gary Waldrep; I let everybody do their own thing, so that’s why we call it The Gary Waldrep Band. It’s not The Gary Waldrep Show; it’s the band. Letting people know who you are was one of the smartest things I ever did.
During the time from ’81 to ’96, I only played in three different groups, so in ’96 me and my sister, Susan Waldrep, helped me get a band started. She’s a great singer. We formed the group and it was kinda like a brother-and-sister act, and we got some good breaks. We had some people listen to us in Nashville, and we got some people filming documentaries out here. Things happened, and all of a sudden our family was kind of thrown into the music spotlight, per se. We started recording CDs and putting out our music. That helped because it got our music out to radio stations. We started winning some awards in Nashville at the SPBGMA, which is the Society for the Preservation of Bluegrass Music in America. In 1993 and ’94, I won Best Banjo Player of the Year, Clawhammer-Style, and Old-Time Banjo Player of the Year. It helps when you get a few national awards. Newspapers were coming out and doing stories on us.
PLATE 89 “I let everybody in the band shine. I don’t hog the show.” The Gary Waldrep Band
My sister had to retire a few years ago because of some medical problems, and she basically turned everything over to me, so it’s my band now, and it’s The Gary Waldrep Band. My family is in the band. My aunt and uncle that I was telling you about—Kenny and Donna—they’re in my band. Kenny plays the fiddle and drives the bus. Aunt Donna plays bass guitar, and Mindy Rakestraw is the lady that I have from Dallas, Georgia, and she plays guitar; then I have Stan Wilemon from Snead Crossroads. He plays mandolin for me. We’ve got a five-piece band, and we just go play bluegrass and gospel music. I do all the booking for the group. We play festivals and churches. We try to give our audiences what they want to hear. If they like and want bluegrass and old-time music, that’s what we give them.
For thirteen years we produced our own bluegrass festival here on the farm. It was called Festival on the Farm. We had thousands of people out here on the farm every year, anywhere from seventeen hundred to eighteen hundred people for the weekend. Our stage was the back porch here at the house. One of the reasons I started the Festival on the Farm was to give back to the community. I wanted them to be able to come out here on the farm and see us because a lot of these folks don’t get out of town. They would never see us because we tour out of town a lot. We stopped it three years ago when my mother passed away because she was such a big part of it, and we just couldn’t go on with it. We’ve got one of the largest fan clubs in bluegrass today. We’ve got over fifteen hundred members, and that’s pretty big for bluegrass. They’re real good to us, too. They hold fund-raisers to raise money; if we need something for the band, like a tire for the bus or whatever, they pretty well take care of it for us. They’re great. The building where my bus is parked was donated to us by the fan club. It didn’t cost me a dime. They were tired of sitting in the sun, I guess. The fan club all raised money and had a guy from Georgia come out here and bring the materials and build it so they would have a place to sit during the festivals. It was a big honor to know people care about you that much.
I play nine different instruments. I would play an instrument for a year or two, and then I’d see someone else play another one, and I would want to try that. I guess I didn’t get bored with an instrument but just decided I wanted to try to play all of ’em. Then, if I needed to get a job playing something, I could. I’ve had jobs playing fiddle, banjo, and mandolin, so it’s been good to learn all the instruments. The clawhammer banjo style is basically what I’m known for in the country. In the clawhammer-style banjo picking, you don’t use picks. I do a lot of clawhammer today. Clawhammer is a style of banjo that’s old as the mountains. It started in the Appalachian Mountains and is one of the first styles of banjo playing in the history of the banjo in America. The banjo did not originate in the United States; it actually came from Africa and is an African instrument. The slaves brought the banjo to the southern plantations years ago. Other people that come in—the Irish people and others—picked up the instrument. Everybody wanted to play the banjo, so the clawhammer style basically started with African Americans. Three-finger banjo-style picking is like Earl Scruggs plays. He didn’t actually invent the three-finger style, but he made it popular. He was their spokesman because he was the first guy that got out and started touring with a band where people could hear the three-finger style. With the three-finger style, you use a thumb pick and two finger picks. With clawhammer, you just use your fingernails. You don’t use picks. It’s more like a dance rhythm, I guess you’d say. There’s lots of other banjo styles. In New Orleans there’s the strumming banjo—the Dixieland. We kind of feel like we’ve got our own brand of mountain music up here on the mountain ’cause years ago Sand Mountain was so isolated. You couldn’t get up here except for only two or three roads going up on this mountain, so we just kind of got our own little brand of old-time music, I think, and you can hear it in the recordings of the artists arou
nd here, too. I like this ol’-timey stuff. Even though I play professionally on the road, we still get together here on the mountain and pick and have jam sessions and food with the neighbors. The food’s a big part. Certain communities have musicians that live there, and the music’s even more popular than in other places. Holly Pond is forty-five minutes from here. They have two or three families that play. We used to go over there and play, and then they’d come over and play music with us. It’s kind of like a network. You get to know where all the musicians are and where and when they’re picking.
I was a DJ for years. You know, musicians have to have little side jobs, and one of mine was the host of a radio show. Of course, I talked a lot, and sometimes Mindy tells me I talk too much onstage. She tells me to shut up and sing—no dead time. I did the DJ thing for a gospel station. I loved that ’cause I could play what I wanted. I also sold jewelry one time when I was between bands, and I loved that because I wear a lot of jewelry onstage. I have also worked at a car wash, and that helped me decide to get back into music. That was work! Oh my gosh, I bet you I lost probably thirty pounds that summer working at that car wash. It’s a good way to lose weight because those cars keep coming in. We were hand-washing them. I told my boss, “I’m getting back into music. This is for the birds.” So I did.
I have also been teaching music for years. That helps supplement my income pretty good. I get a grant from the state of Alabama that pays me to teach kids and adults. It’s an apprenticeship grant where the students complete an apprenticeship with me. I’m considered a master artist by the state. There’s grant money there, and they’re gonna give it to somebody, so I always fill out the application. Sometimes I get it, and sometimes I don’t. The people who give these grants know I’ve been doing this for years. I’ve played for them down there in Montgomery at the capitol, and they know who I am, and they know I’m legit. I’ve used the money to buy books for students and helped buy their gas if they can’t afford to come for lessons. That’s what the money is for. It’s not a whole lot, but it helps buy an instrument for a kid sometimes. I teach thirty-minute lessons on the banjo, fiddle, mandolin, bass guitar, and guitar. I can do dulcimer and autoharp if somebody wants to learn them. I try to pass on what I’ve learned to them. I’ve been teaching for twenty years.
The music business has been really good to me. People have been great. We’ve got a great following. It’s just been a great ride. I’m forty-six, fixing to be forty-seven in a few weeks, and I never would have thought that I would have been playing music all this time and making a living with it. I’m not getting rich, but I’m paying the bills. If I can just do that and keep my bills paid, then I’m doing okay. Our music now is all over the world through the Internet and radio. Everybody says, “Why don’t you move to Nashville? Why are you still in Kilpatrick, Alabama?” Well, this is my family’s farm. I grew up here, and when I was little, this is where I was running around. There used to be a cotton patch or corn or whatever Papaw grew, where my house is now. I built my house here in ’94, and why would I want to leave here when I am only two or three hours from Nashville? I can drive up there and back if I need to take care of business. I want to be here where I grew up. This is home. My friends and family are here. We just take the bus and go where we want to go and come back. My memories of the music are right here. That’s why I love this place so much; it all started for me right here on this farm.
I have been honored numerous times for my music. Governor Bob Riley issued a proclamation declaring every September eighth as Gary Waldrep Day. Two years ago, I was inducted into the Alabama Bluegrass Music Hall of Fame. I was one of the first inductees in there. Me and Charlie Louvin, Jerry and Mae Hinton, Claire Lynch, and Three on a String were the inductees. I’ve got two commendations by the governor. The county named a road after me; 479 is the Gary Waldrep Highway. I also received the Gary Waldrep Road Resolution from the DeKalb County Commission.
We’re active in our own church. I go to Fairview United Methodist, which is over here in Albertville, Alabama. We like to be at home on Sunday mornings to go to our own church. That’s why we don’t play a lot of churches, because we all have our own church that we like to get back to. If we do a church service, it’s usually on Saturday night or sometimes a Sunday night. We love bluegrass gospel. We sing a lot of bluegrass gospel. Part of my heritage is singing the old spirituals. As a matter of fact, if we’re at a festival two days and we’re gonna do four shows, you can bet one of those shows will be all gospel. When we do an all-gospel set, people love it.
PLATE 90 Gary started playing music when he was five years old at his grandparents’ farm, on which he built a house and now lives.
Canada, Colorado, New York—the further up north you go, the more they love old-time southern Appalachian music. I found that out just traveling. We travel twenty-eight to thirty states a year and play music from Sand Mountain here. I’ve been able to take my music to most of the United States and Canada. We’ve played on the biggest cruise ship in the world, the Oasis of the Seas. I’d never been on a cruise, and I thought I’d probably get sick, but I didn’t. We went to the Bahamas and played music on the ship. We played down in Saint Thomas. It’s always nice to have a great time and do something you like. I just got back from Ontario, Canada, a few weeks ago. It’s like getting a paid vacation every weekend I go somewhere. Of course, we don’t get to sightsee a lot, but we get to see a lot of the country just driving back and forth.
I’ve met a lot of the big stars—Ricky Skaggs, Steve Warner, Earl Scruggs, and Grandpa Jones. I loved Grandpa Jones. He was one of my idols ’cause he played the banjo in the style that I love—the clawhammer. Most of the stars that I have had contact with are bluegrass stars. I’ve picked with Bill Monroe and Ralph Stanley. We record on Tom T. Hall’s label now. I’ve been to his house, and he and his wife, Dixie, are just like us. Mindy is involved with a group called the Daughters of Bluegrass [all women bluegrass stars], and they record special CDs. She was on the label with Tom T. and kind of helped me get my foot in the door with him. They heard a sample of our music, and they liked it and wanted to hear more from us. I sent ’em a CD, and all of a sudden they wrote a song for us. We recorded it. It’s called “Trust and Pray.” We have pitched it out now to radio stations, and it should be getting some airplay.
A record label can help you get your songs played on the radio. For instance, if you were a DJ and I sent you a copy of The Gary Waldrep Band, and you don’t know Gary Waldrep, you might just throw the recording in the trash can. But if you see Tom T. Hall and Dixie—Blue Circle Records—you might take time to listen to the recording. That’s what this label is doing for us now. When we record a song for them, they’re gonna get radio royalties. So it’s good for each of us. There’s no big money in radio royalties, but it does help you get bookings. If I was to get a chart song, promoters look at that, and they think, “Well, Gary here’s got a number three. Let’s call him up and book him.”
About forty percent of the songs we do are public domain. I don’t write. I’ve wrote maybe two songs in thirty years. I entertain the crowd and pick. We have writers that write for us. My uncle Kenny writes, and I’ve used two or three of his songs. We’ve recorded two of our mandolin player’s songs. He’s wrote some songs for a lot of the big groups. Me and Mindy—we don’t write. We just stand up there, sing, and look pretty [laughs]. Writing is just something that I guess I haven’t been inspired to do. I would love to write, and I need to write, but it just don’t come to me that easy. I guess it’s just like people say, “Well, you play by ear. I wish I could do that.” Well, I wish I could write a song. We also have people who write for us in Nashville, and they send me tons of songs—independent songwriters that know I play music. I’ve been doing this thirty-something years, so they pretty well know my name and address. One of the songs we recorded, “Mountain Pines,” was written by a Cherokee Indian lady.
I love being a musician, and I love to pick instruments, but I had rat
her sing two to one as to play. I love just to sit down with two or three people and a guitar and just sing. We love to do that as a band, and our band is known for its harmony ability. We work hard at it. People have told us that we have the best harmony than any band they’ve ever heard. We’re real proud of our harmony.
I don’t want people to think that I’m just in it for the money, ’cause I’m not. I do a lot of charity work like Relay for Life, United Way, and the American Cancer Society, but in order to play music for a living and not have another job, I have to charge a certain amount to run the bus. I am so fortunate and blessed that I can make a living with my music. It’s like somebody fishing or hunting for a living. It’s something you really enjoy doing and can do it and sustain yourself with it. Of course, I live by myself. If I had a wife and kids, I might not be doing this. That hasn’t happened yet. I’m married to my banjo, and it don’t eat a lot. Anyway, it’s just fun. It’s a fun ride, and I’m still ridin’. I don’t know how long I’ll be on it, but for now that’s what I do; I just play music. I thank God I can make a living at it.
Gary Waldrep’s music is available from Gary Waldrep, 1958 County Road 479, Albertville, AL 35951; www.garywaldrep.com.
“Emergency services pronounced me dead at the scene.”
~Young Harmony~
Blessings—we receive them every day, but the majority of times we are too busy to realize it. However, when you receive a blessing like Johnathan Bond did twenty years ago, and even hearing or reading his story, you learn to never take things for granted and cherish every moment God has given you. Just like Johnathan, when we are teenagers we believe we are invincible and nothing will ever happen to us. Johnathan learned very quickly when he was struck head-on by an eighteen-wheeler, flew across the median, and was hit by two cars at great force that he was anything but invincible. He learned how quickly your life can be taken from you, and most of all he learned who the Master Physician truly is. When the Lord raised Johnathan from eighteen and a half minutes dead, even the medical staff agreed it was nothing short of a miracle.
The Foxfire 45th Anniversary Book Page 39