TRIBUTES TO BILL MONROE

(The following tributes to the creator of Bluegrass music appeared on the
BGRASS-L Discussion group which originates from the University of
Kentucky under the able leadership of the listowner, Frank Godbey.

     In the tributes that follow you will find the words of those who knew
him well and those who knew him only through his music.  You will read the
moving personal tributes of bluegrass musicians who have played with him
and many who would have given anything to have played with him just once.
You will also read the somewhat more distant, but no less respectful,
assessments of his career and his contributions to American music by
professional journalists. Together these statements of respect, admiration
and grief attest to the stature of the musical giant whose music is woven 
into the fabric of American culture.

	This tribute page begins with Mary Yoeman's review of Bill 
Monroe's career and ends with her moving description of Monroe's funeral 
in Rosine, Kentucky.

Ben Austin

***************************************************************************
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 18:38:24 CST 
From: mary.yeomans@MCMAIL.VANDERBILT.EDU 
 
     As I review my 14 years of rich bluegrass memories, I'd like to share 
     with all of you some special glimpses I had of Mr. Bill Monroe,the 
     human being, the friend. 
 
     Bill Monroe...many of us think of his wonderful legacy of lyrics and 
     tunes, his voice so strong and powerful in its use of the "ancient 
     tones" he often referred to, the high lonesome sound he is credited 
     for, and his finely-chiseled face (I always thought it would be 
     perfect carved in stone on Mt. Rushmore!), strong and proud. 
 
     In my memory, I envision Bill not on the stage, but on his farm, a 
     lovely, peaceful respite just a few miles outside of Nashville, with 
     rolling hills, a simple cabin home surrounded by cleared fields and 
     bountiful woods; not at all unlike the terrain of his beloved 
     homeplace in Rosine, KY.  Bill felt a powerful connection with the 
     earth, the soil, and he felt a special tenderness for children and 
     animals, those that love unconditionally. 
 
     Bill would walk slowly to the area where he kept his chickens, 
     Domineckers and various breeds he knew the names of...he'd proudly 
     show off his chicks and check to see they had ample feed, stooping to 
     pick up walnuts that had fallen in the yard, going to a special place 
     behind his cabin where he'd pile them and say what good eating they 
     were.  Bill seemed to save everything...he grew up in a time when 
     there wasn't alot of extra food or goods to be wasted. 
 
 
     Bill would often be found in his last years sitting in his rocker on 
     the porch watching the birds and farm creatures, picking out the 
     sounds and rhythms of the country with his keen ears.  Listen closely 
     to his music and you'll understand why Mr. Monroe towers high above 
     most other musicians of any genre.  He had that knack for translating 
     the sounds, the patterns, the textures and the tones of his simple 
     country life -- gleaning them from his true life experience, sifting 
     them through his soul, sending them out through his fingers with his 
     impeccable timing for us to feel as he had, singing from the heart 
     with his plaintive voice the ancient sounds of his ancestors. 
 
 
     Special thanks go to Miss Julia Labella, a long-time friend of Bill's,
     who stayed at the farm during Bill's final years, caring for him 24 
     hours a day, 7 days a week.  Though her gift to the bluegrass world 
     has largely gone unheralded, I would like to state my immense 
     gratitude and appreciation to her for enabling so many of us to get to
     know the man behind the music.  She ensured his country cabin home was
     full of great country cooking, good friends, and people to pick with. 
     She would respond to his desire to get out and shake and howdy with 
     friends and fans by taking him regularly to the Station Inn to sit in 
     with the Sidemen, Ralph Stanley, and various bands.  She took him to 
     the Long Hollow Jamboree on Tuesdays and the Bell Cove on Wednesdays. 
     Bill liked to "help out" his friends who owned clubs by putting in 
     regular appearances whenever he was in town.  Bill was fond of 
     delighting his friends and fans with his signature songs, always 
     pausing to give a quarter to a saucer-eyed child, hug a pretty lady, 
     sign an autograph, or pose for a picture. 
 
     Julia was largely responsible for encouraging Monroe to "mend fences" 
     with some people he'd had disputes or uncomfortable moments with years
     earlier...Earl Scruggs, Kenny Baker, Jimmy Martin.  It was very 
     difficult for this prideful man to again join hands with these people,
     but he clearly knew that his work on this earth was not done, and he 
     could not move on, until he did so, and he genuinely wanted to rebuild
     his bridges.  It was beautiful to see Bill and Earl seated next to 
     each other outside Bill's cabin on September 13, 1994, surrounded by 
     hundreds of Bill's friends and colleagues, celebrating Bill's 83rd 
     birthday with fellowship, food and song. 
 
     Julia helped so many of the "younger generation" of bluegrass pickers 
     in Nashville gain access to Mr. Monroe...the McCoury boys, Mike 
     Compton, Mike Bub, Jason Carter...to name a few.  Julia opened his 
     world up to his friends and the Nashville pickers.  From time to time,
     Julia would call up the McCourys, Mike Bub, Mike Compton, the 
     Bluegrass Boys and others and invite them out for a picking.  In the 
     warm months it would be outside in the yard, George Chestnut frying 
     catfish, the likes of Del McCoury sitting hunkered over in a metal 
     folding chair singing his guts out with Big Mon.  In the winter, the 
     Christmas tree sending forth a cheerful light into the room, fireplace
     ablaze, we fortunate few would be entranced with the sounds of Monroe 
     and McCoury reliving some old moments in song, Tex Logan sitting 
     nearby as "Christmas Time's A-Comin" was sung in the warmth of the old
     log cabin's walls.  Wow. 
 
     Bill, as many know, was a very spiritual man.  When you'd have dinner 
     with him, he would always ask everyone to join hands and pray. 
     Sometimes he'd offer the prayer, other times he'd ask someone at the 
     table to say grace.  I swear, the pulse that would pass through the 
     hands of the people gathered at the table was akin to an electrical 
     shock of some magnitude.  At least that was my experience! 
 
     On several occasions, sitting quietly at his kitchen table in the 
     waning hours of the evening, Bill, who had been dozing or picking at a
     spot of dirt on the tablecloth, would softly commence singing a gospel
     song.  He'd have this far away, glazed look on his face, and I'd feel 
     as if he were halfway over on the other side, or at least a million 
     miles away.  Many times he would be singing "The Wayfaring Stranger." 
     As the song progressed, he'd pick up power and urgency and by the time
     he'd reach the part about "I'll soon be free from all my trials..." I 
     just knew I would surely freeze to death right there in my chair 
     before he ever finished the song.  Bill once told me that he 
     especially liked that last verse of The Wayfaring Stranger.  The 
     presence, the conviction were awesome.  He was ready.  Will anyone 
     ever approach the raw strength of Bill Monroe?  I think not.  I 
     rejoice in the knowledge that The Angel Band has a new leader! 
 
 
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 17:02:18 -0700 
From: Marty Cutler & Cinnie Cole  
Subject: Bill Monroe's Passing 
 
There have been tons of eloquent posts here about the loss of Bill Monroe, 
and I really wasn't sure that I had much to contribute. 
 
Then Dick Bowden said: 
 
>William Smith Monroe was 
>liberated today. 
 
>I'm going to go drink a toast with the old Celtic salute "s'launch!"  (sp)
>We lived in an era, didn't we? 
 
That last line was what made me want to put my two cents in - Thanks, Dick. 

I auditioned for Bill back in '74, when I got word that he was looking for 
a banjo player via my mentor and former Blue Grass Boy Steve Arkin. Steve 
brought me backstage to Bill, and told him "This is the boy I told you 
about." Bill nodded, and said nothing further. I was tongue tied in Bill's 
presence, and after a few seconds, I stammered that I'd like to audition 
for the band. He smiled, probably amused by my awkwardness, and asked me to
come backstage after the second set. He finished his first set, no doubt in
a bad mood due to a temporary banjo player who played terribly, and I went 
backstage to play. The band was there, but Bill was not. Kenny Baker 
encouraged me to take the banjo out and play some, and we ran through a 
bunch of numbers. Bill came in just as we started "Roanoake", and listened 
for a while before taking out his mandolin and joining in - the lift I felt
when he started playing put it all together, and forgot about whatever self
consciousness might have been holding me back. We played until the next set
had to start, and they moved onstage to work their way through the second 
set. When the band played their free - for - all jam session, Bill nodded 
at me to come up for a couple of solos - I felt great! At the end of the 
evening, I approached Bill about the audition, and told me with a smile 
that he hadn't heard me sing yet (which probably would have been the kiss 
of death for me. )  He then added that they were going to be back in 
town in a couple of months, and that I should come down again. certain that
he was being kind, and little else. I'd subsequently committed myself to a 
tour of Alaska with the Pine Hill Ramblers, and just about 3 days before I 
was about to leave, I got a call from the promoter of Bill's concert saying
that he asked me to come down to their show. Well, it killed me to say no, 
but I already had a serious commitment which would create lots of problems 
if I backed out. 
 
I often wonder about that road not taken - I *do* know that this alaskan 
tour was a great thing for my playing, and that it gave me the opportunity 
to develop a lot of the jazzier elements of my style. Still, I believe that
at the core of my playing is the "lift" I felt from listening to Bill and 
folks like Joe Drumright, Robert Lee Pennington, Jim Smoak, Don Stover, Don
Reno, Earl Scruggs and lots of others. I learned the most important 
elements of improvisation, musicianship and musical passion from Monroe's 
work, and whatever kind of music I play, his spirit is at the core. This is
probably the case with all of us here and I'm sure countless others, even 
outside of the world of bluegrass. That's a legacy any one of us would be 
proud to leave. 
 
Once we've allowed ourselves to mourn his passing, let's celebrate 
everything he's left us with. It sure has been an era... 
 
Marty 
 
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 19:36:55 -0400 
From: PennyClapp@AOL.COM 
Subject: Washington Post Tribute to Bill Monroe
 
The Washington Post gave Mr. Monroe's death front page coverage.  There was
also a very nice "appreciation" article.  The two article were the
equivalent of about a half page.  The appreciation ended with the
following. 

     Bill Monroe himself touched hearts for six decades, and he's just 
     taken his lonesome sound someplace higher. 
 
I think that sums it up quite nicely.  He will be missed but lives on in
his music. 
 
Penny Clapp 
 

Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 14:36:15 EDT 
From: Bruce Morgen  
Subject: On the passing of Bill Monroe 
 
Not too many people are known to be the inventor of an accepted and 
living musical style.  Bill Monroe, who died this weekend, was one of those
rare individuals.  Monroe created the supercharged acoustic string band
style that was later named "bluegrass," after Monroe's band, The Bluegrass
Boys.  I played in a bluegrass band myself in the late 1960s, and it was
one of the most exciting and challenging musical experiences of my life. 
As a young fiddler (and a Yankee Jew-boy to boot), one of the most
terrifying and revealing moments I can remember was the one occasion when I
got the chance to play a tune with Monroe at the home of our mutual friend,
Tex Logan.  I froze, unable to play a note in the presence of "The Father
of Bluegrass."  I expected the fierce old man (he was in his fifties at the
time and I'll be fifty myself next year, but back then he was already a
legend and seemed a living monument from my twenty-something POV) to strike
me down then and there, but my "punishment" consisted of a kindly, knowing
smile and a nod of encouragement. 
 
I don't have any heroes, but Bill Monroe, a man with whom I had almost no 
intellectual and limited cultural common ground, came closer than most. 
The world has lost a great musical innovator and a deeply decent human
being. 
 

Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 10:31:11 -0500 
From: Judy McCulloh  
Subject: Bill Monroe: In memorium 
 
On April 8, 1989, the Sonneck Society for American Music, meeting in 
Nashville, Tennessee, named Bill Monroe an honorary member.  He and the 
Blue Grass Boys provided that evening's entertainment--a new sound for 
some, a special memory for us all. 
 
I'd like to share what was said when Bill received his honorary membership. 

*** 
        By conferring honorary membership on Bill Monroe, the "father of 
bluegrass music," the Sonneck Society recognizes a living treasure of 
American music.  No other person in our musical history has done so much 
by himself to create a whole new genre, one that continues to thrive, 
evolve, and inspire performers and listeners alike. 
 
        William Smith Monroe was born in 1911 on a farm in western 
Kentucky, near Rosine.  He found early comfort in music and absorbed the 
rich heritage around him.  His mother sang the old ballads and played 
harmonica, accordion, and fiddle; his brothers Birch and Charlie also sang 
and played various instruments; his uncle Pendleton Vandiver played the 
fiddle; Arnold Shultz, a black guitar player and fiddler, asked Bill to 
back him at local dances; the Baptist and Methodist churches gave 
instruction in shape-note singing; the congregational singing, especially 
at Holiness revivals in Rosine, provided models for vocal style and 
harmony; the recordings of Jimmie Rodgers reinforced his long liking for 
the blues. 
 
        By the 1920s Bill had settled on the mandolin as his instrument. 
After performing first with Birch and Charlie, then as a duet with 
Charlie, he formed his own band in 1938.  Later that year in Atlanta he 
organized the first Blue Grass Boys--named in honor of his home state--a 
trio with guitar, fiddle, and mandolin.  In 1939 the band added an upright 
bass, and in 1942 a banjo.  While the personnel of the Blue Grass Boys has 
changed often in the last half-century, the band and sound Bill developed 
by the mid-1940s remains the classic:  mandolin, banjo, guitar, fiddle, 
bass; the mandolin setting the beat and rhythm; strong, loud singing, the 
high tenor standing out; driving tempos, two or three times faster than 
normal; improvised, virtuoso solos featuring mandolin and banjo as well as 
fiddle; older, sentimental songs as well as new ones, including those of 
his own composition; an acoustic ensemble maintained in the face of 
growing pressures within the country-music world to add electric 
instruments, wind instruments, drums, and other "uptown" elements. 
 
        In 1939, Bill had joined the Grand Ole Opry, where he has been a 
mainstay ever since.  These regular WSM broadcasts, combined with weekly 
touring and the records he was making for Victor, brought this new style 
to a huge national audience, especially in the South.  In the late 1940s, 
when other bands began copying the sound of the Blue Grass Boys, the term 
"bluegrass" was applied to their music as well.  The sound, in other 
words, became a style. 
 
        Revered by his fans, respected by his fellow musicians, Bill 
Monroe has richly deserved the more formal honors to come his way:  fifty 
years as a member of the Opry come this fall; election to the Country 
Music Hall of Fame in 1970; a U.S. Senate resolution in 1986 citing him as 
"a cultural figure and force of signal importance in our time"; a Grammy 
in 1989 for his latest album, _Southern Flavor_, as the best bluegrass 
recording (the first time a bluegrass category as such has existed). 
Through his unique vision, integrity, forceful personality, and sure 
standards of musicianship, he transformed the old-time Anglo-American 
string-band and vocal styles into a dynamic new genre, American in origin, 
international in impact.  With respect and admiration, the Sonneck Society 
for American music welcomes its new honorary member, Bill Monroe. 
 
*** 
Farewell, Bill, and thanks. 
Judy McCulloh 
jmmccull@uiuc.edu 
 
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 11:19:44 EDT 
From: Lee l Neugent  
Subject: Bill Monroe-Owensboro 
 
Today's Messenger-Inquirer has its front page headline reading: 

          "Father of bluegrass' dies" 

     There is a large color picture of Bill playing with the US Navy band
in Rosine last year and another showing Rosetta Kiper, Bill's niece and 
Bertha Kirt, his sister on a porch swing consoling one another. 
 
Another front page story is headed: "Rosine residents mourn the loss of 
'a great man." 
 
A few of the quotes in these articles: 

     "While he was at the museum, Monroe joined in a jam session with 75
     area pickers It's rare that anyone gets to play with a living legend,
     said banjo player John Laswell of Owensboro. It's a special moment. I
     saw him walk up out of the corner of my eye. And I was thinking,'I
     hope I do this to his satisfaction' He knew his days were numbered.
     And he enjoyed seeing people play his music" 

     "Dan Hays, IBMA executive director said Monroe seemed to particularly
     enjoy a photograph of himself with one of his dogs and seeing his
     uncle's fiddle again Bill Monroe influenced an enormous number of
     entertainers from Elvis Presley to Rickey Skaggs to parking lot
     pickers all over the world, Hays said Monday. His influence crossed a
     lot of social classes and different styles of music. And his music
     will live on as a tribute to him" 
 
The second page of the paper has a small picture of Bill at 31 and a 
large picture of Bill and his brother Charlie standing in a wheelbarrow in 
1925 Rosine. 
 
     "Bill Evans of Owensboro, a music historian and banjo player for the
     Dry Branch Fire Squad, said Monroe's greatest contribution was in
     bridging several styles of music-gospel, blues, string band,
     country-to create a style that was both traditional and contemporary" 
 
     "Below a shade tree not far from Bratcher's store, Bertha Kirt,88, 
     Monroes sister said she is thankful for the company-but not under
     these sad circumstances. Its so blue, so blue, she said and hung her
     head Her home is across the street from where the Monroe statue and
     monument will be placed Her niece, Rosetta Kiper, 76, consoled her. We
     knew it was coming, she said, but it hurts like the dickens" 
 
On a personal note, Bill performed at the first bluegrass concert that I 
ever attended-at English Park in 1986. Imagine having him play, in 
person, the first bluegrass music that you recognized as bluegrass! 
 

Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 07:10:25 +0000 
From: Noam Pikelny  
Subject: (Fwd) Monroe 
 
------- Forwarded Message Follows ------- 
Date:          Mon, 9 Sep 1996 19:44:04 PST 
From:          youbakeright@juno.com (Timothy C Hicks) 
 
     Springtime is near my darlin', you say that you are going away. 
     My heart will be with you my darlin' and I'm counting now the days. 
 
     I know that should I have to travel, I know I'm over the hill.  
     I feel so all alone my darlin' since you've been gone, when I heard
     the first whipoorwill. 
 
     The flowers are blooming little darlin', with the budding of the
          trees. 
     I hear the night birds a cryin', I know that they are warning me. 
 
     I know that should I have to travel, I know I'm over the hill. 
     I feel so all alone my darlin' since you've been gone, 
          when I heard the first whipoorwill. 
 
     Our love was planted little darlin', just like the farmer plants his 
          grain     
     but there will never be a harvest on the hill the whipoorwill now 
          sings. 
 
     I know that should I have to travel, I know I'm over the hill. 
     I feel so all alone my darlin' since you've been gone, 
          when I heard the first whipoorwill. 
 

 
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 00:47:23 -0400 
From: TOM HOLT  
Subject: Re: Bill Monroe 
 
>According to the funeral home that I just called, the family will receive 
>friends Tuesday afternoon (10 Sep) from 3 to 9 p.m. at the Madison Funeral
>Home, 219 Old Hickory Blvd., East Nashville TN. 615-868-9020. He will then
>lie Wednesday at the Ryman from 8:30 to 10 a.m. with a 10 a.m. service
there. 
>He will be buried in Kentucky, "near his boyhood home" in Rosine. Services
>there Thursday, 2 p.m. at the Rosine Methodist Church. 
> 
>BILL KNOWLTON, "BLUEGRASS RAMBLE", WCNY-FM, SYRACUSE NY 
> 
>PS: I suggest that cards would be better sent to Monroe's office at 3819 
>Dickerson Rd, Nashville TN 37207. 
> 
 
It was me, Joe Stuart, Jack Hicks and Kenny Baker traveling with Bill to 
Chattanooga, Tennessee to do a show for the Cancer Foundation at the 
Convention Center.  During the middle of the show, the emcee interrupted 
Bill, walked up to the microphone and announced that the Vietnam war was 
over.    Bill stepped up to the microphone and began to sing "Oh bring back
to me my wandering boy"...... 
 
My stint as a Bluegrass Boy was due to Monroe Fields being sick and I
filled from my regular position as a "Midnite Rambler". 
 
I've never forgotten that night.....my deepest sympathy to James and others
who loved and respected Bill.....The Boys From Indiana theme "One More 
Bluegrass Show" was from a tribute that my brother Aubrey wrote about Bill 
that we performed for him on the Opry years ago..... 
 
I sort of feel like.......what do we do now? 
 
Who can take it from where he left off..........who in this generation of 
pickers even suspect what Monroe sang and played about....I fear that 
traditional Bluegrass music as a true art form is gone......I'm probably 
wrong.........I certainly hope that I am......pardon me for pouting. 
 
  Tom 
 
See it at   http://www.healey.com.au/~mkear/monroe.htm 
 
 
Cheers,  
Mike Kear,   
mkear@healey.com.au,   
Windsor, NSW, Australia 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 13:23:08 -0400 
From: MazArt@AOL.COM 
Subject: Monroe & Duffey, Part III 
 
At "Bluegrass '77" or "'Grass of '77," a huge bluegrass concert at the 
University of Maryland's Cole Field house (first time I saw Lester Flatt w/
Marty Stuart, Jim & Jesse, Jimmy Martin, etc.), there was a big jam session
to close the show. During the chorus of some tune or other, Duffey reached 
over and put his hand over Monroe's mouth! My friends and I were shocked
that Duffey dared to do such a thing, and then were doubly shocked to
realize that Monroe didn't mind. He had a sense of humor! 
 
--Dan 
 


Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 12:52:37 -0400 
From: "Evan N. Reilly"  
Subject: The Passing of an Ambassador of American Folk Culture 
 
Posting this for Jim Moss, who is not on the list... 
 
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
-------- Forwarded message ---------- 
 
Upon getting up this afternoon I turned on the local clear channel talk
station. As I listened, I heard a tribute to a  Great man who will be
missed by all, and who s passing will be felt for sometime.  Bill Monroe
died today.   I couldn t believe it.  On KGO a major media station. 
 
What did this say?  It was a firm statement that this man who sang and
played mandolin, by no means the picture of financial success, and by no
means the image of modern mainstream success, had just received 10 minutes
of mention over a media channel that the president and opposition were
competing for. Radio time that advertisers pay $5,000 a minute for,  had
just been offered up for free to pay tribute to this man who sang and 
played mandolin.    This point was driven home further as I heard the
national networks covering the passing of Bill Monroe. 
 
I thought, here we are as a culture, bent on becoming millionaires before
we retire.  In a culture who s media and social pressures set the standard
of success at a 10 million dollar home with a Mercedes or a Rolls and
always a beautiful wife and a boat... what else could we name?   Yet here
was a common man who had none of this, who was receiving tributes from all
over the media, the mouth piece of this social pressure.   It occurred to
me that I had never remembered hearing any such tributes for people who had
passed, that had achieved these goals.   I thought, what greater success
could anyone ask for?  To have pursued a passion, mentored thousands of 
musicians, molded and maintained the standards for a music style that had
such an impact on the culture that here at his death, he was receiving
tributes from all corners of the country and for all I knew the world.  I
had heard many times that at one time or another, he had fired everyone in
Bluegrass! Well, at least the big biscuits. What can we learn from this?  
And for those of us who became aware of ourselves in the late  60s, what in
ourselves had we lost track of?    Here was a man who had great musical
creativeness, who had the guts to stick to his guns and although poor at
death, was wealthier in another way then anyone we will ever meet. 
 
I called this station and commented on my appreciation of the depth that
the host had demonstrated in making this announcement.  That I felt that we
had lost a really big man and a real contributor to the American culture,
he agreed.  He asked me what I thought had made Bill Monroe so important as
compared to other gifted musicians who would never receive this level of
mention upon their death.   I stopped for a minute, then I said to this
commentator,  Bill Monroe was part of the family .   I told him that on
many occasions Monroe had sat down with me to teach me the details of one
or another of his tunes. That when the band I had played in had showed up
in Nashville to play  on the Fan Fair Show, on the way to Bean Blossom,
Monroe located our motel, came and rousted us up to bring the band to his
farm for the purpose of playing music all night long.   Here was a man who
in his 60s or 70s was energized to meet and capture a group of young
musicians who had driven from California to play at his festival in Bean
Blossom with the intent of jamming till sunrise. 
 
And what I told the radio talk show host, was that this experience by 
no means implied that we were special in any way.  On the contrary, I 
told him that  I had no doubt that Bill Monroe had done this very thing 
to thousands of other musicians both before and after us .    That to be 
a friend of Bluegrass was to be a friend of Bill Monroe s .   So this was, 
to me at least, what made Bill Monroe special.  The fact that, although 
the biggest biscuit of all in the Bluegrass scene, this man with incredible
presence and power would never hesitate a split second to teach a young 
musician about the music.   I mean he would drop everything and sit 
right down with you!   Bluegrass was Bill Monroe s passion and anyone 
who wanted to share in this passion was  in  with Bill Monroe. 
 
I told the host that one night after jamming at a camp in Bean Blossom 
with a guitar player and myself until maybe 4 am Monroe suggested that 
I use a couple of his tunes on a fiddle album project that I was planning. 
Tunes that he had never recorded before!  That he would write my liner 
notes if I did but, that I had to  play the tunes True! .   And that he
then followed through with his promise!  This was what set Bill Monroe
apart from other great musicians of his era.  He and Kenny Baker worked to 
mentor young Bluegrass musicians everywhere.   Kenny Baker, the past 
fiddle player of the Bluegrass Boys, still does , I told the host.  These
are more then just great musicians, they are ambassadors of the American
folk culture. 
 
In closing the host asked me how I felt today after hearing of the loss of 
one of these great ambassadors?  I said,  well, on one hand I feel good
that I put to use the skills that I acquired or developed as a result of
these relationships, that I perform and record with some regularity...that
I have not wasted these experiences.   But, on the other hand.... Today..., 
I feel very old. 

That a person whom I somehow felt would be out there  going  forever, would
not be there... from here on out.    Yet, the fact that I, and I am sure
the rest of the Bluegrass/Folk Music community along with the mass media
are feeling this way today, says that Bill Monroe achieved the ultimate in
success with his life simply by pursuing  his love of music. 
 
What more can any of us ask for?  We should be so lucky. 
 
Jim Moss 
 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 12:45:03 -0400 
From: Gregg TeHennepe  
Subject: Re: Big Mon 
 
On Wed, 11 Sep 1996, Bo McCarty "THE BO-MAN" wrote: 
 
> Darra R. Combs mentioned she never got to see Bill play.  I feel sorry 
> for her and the others who didn't get the chance to see Mr. Monroe. 
 
I too never had the good fortune... for me the most "personal" and poignant
experience is the short recording of "Going Across the Sea" on the
soundtrack from _High Lonesome_. For those not familiar with it, Bill,
sitting at the hearth of the overgrown, broken down old home place in
Rosine for the first time in 20 plus years, talks about his Uncle Pen and
the fiddle, and how they would sit around the hearth after supper and he'd
play fiddle tunes for Bill and the family. While naming off several of the
tunes, he asks in an almost unsure, questioning voice if he can play a
tune, and then picks a simple, haunting instrumental version of "Going
Across the Sea". 
 
To me the rolling lines of the Uncle Pen fiddle tune picked out on the 
mandolin by Bill Monroe sitting at the hearth where he learned to love
music is a vivid presentation of perhaps the greatest taproot of the
bluegrass music by the man who sprouted and cultivated it. 
 
Thank you and goodbye Bill. Don't worry, we'll pick it solid and keep it 
lonesome. 
 
- Gregg 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 11:25:09 EST 
From: Mike Day  
Subject: Bill Monroe 
 
    No, I have never seen Bill Monroe perform live.  I have never talked 
    with him nor have I ever exchanged handshakes with him.  The beauty 
    of Bill Monroe is that you don't have to know him personally to know 
    him.  That may seem confusing but just listen to his music.  Listen 
    to the way he sings Body and Soul, or Blue Moon of Kentucky, or the 
    drive he puts into Molly and Tenbrooks.  I attempt to play mandolin 
    because of him.  What better legacy can a person leave than to 
    inspire others to enrich and broaden their lives?  Just now on WNXT 
    AM, Zeke Mullins is playing a gospel song and Bill is singing "Just 
    have a little talk with Jesus."  I can see Bill talking to Him now. 
 
    No, I have never seen Bill Monroe perform live.  But for me, every 
    time I pick up my mandolin, I will sense his presence. 
 
    Mike 
    _________________________________________________________________ 
    Michael E. Day 
    Accountant - Sponsored Programs 
    Shawnee State University 
 

Sept. 11 Sep 1996 10:59:46 -0400 
From: Udmacon@AOL.COM 
Subject: A Blue Grass Boy's Monroe Story 
 
A Blue Grass Boy of long tenure told me of Bill's bus stopping at a rural 
cafe in the dead of night, and Bill getting off to get a cup of coffee.
Some locals in the cafe recognized WSM, but pretended it they didn't. In
the ensuing conversation, the locals said: "You ain't no Bill Monroe!" 
With that, WSM returned to the bus, demanded that the sleeping Blue Grass 
Boys get up, get dressed, and get their instruments. 
 
They all assembled in that lonely cafe to play the Doubting Bubbas a
number. 
 
Another Blue Grass Boy told of the group in a cafe eating breakfast. One of
them made a face and cried out: "this sausage tastes like a hockey puck!" 
 An outraged WSM thundered: "You can't say that word at the breakfast
table! You don't say 'hockey' when you're eating! Now you go sit at another
table!!!" 
 
I guess the chastened Blue Grass Boy had to eat his hockey puck alone... 
And will we ever forget Bill thinking that some of the Blue Grass Boys were

drinking "vodikins"?? 
...how we'll miss him! 


Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 10:18:45 -0400 
From: Walt Smith  
To: Multiple recipients of list BGRASS-L  
Subject: His legacy 
 
He's no longer among us and I've been trying for two days to sort out what 
I wanted to say about Bill Monroe.  Everything either sounded so trite 
that I'd have been embarrassed to post it or I figured that it'd already 
been said, probably better than I could do.  The only thing that I can 
think of that's even halfway original and that even begins to express my 
feelings is that today, someone will hear bluegrass music for the first 
time and will fall in love with it, possibly even to the extent of wanting 
to learn to play and perform it.  It may be a Stanley Brothers or Flatt & 
Scruggs or even a Bill Monroe recording they hear, or it may be the Seldom 
Scene, Blue Highway, Carolina or any of the modern groups.  It won't 
matter -- had Bill Monroe not walked this earth and pursued his musical 
vision, this would not have happened and the person I've mentioned would 
be the poorer for it.  Hail and farewell, Bill!  As long as the mandolin 
and the five-string banjo are played, you'll never be forgotten or far 
away. 
 
Walt Smith - Raleigh, NC 
ka3agm@netcom.com 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 10:17:44 +0200 
From: Matthew Wyneken  
Reply to: "Bluegrass music discussion."  
To: Multiple recipients of list BGRASS-L  
Subject: Herr Monroe 
 
I heard the news yesterday on this list. While reading through the 
local Freiburg newspaper this morning I was pleasantly surprised to 
see that even it had a notice of Bill Monroe's passing. It wasn't all 
that much - about twenty lines - but it did have a nice picture of the 
man, his mandolin and his cowboy hat. Considering the fact that there 
are maybe about 100 out of 200,000 residents of Freiburg who have even 
heard of bluegrass, though, that was pretty dang good. 
 
Ruhe in Frieden. 
Matthew Wyneken (mpw@tpoly.physik.uni-freiburg.de) 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 00:40:08 -0700 
From: "Bo McCarty \"THE BO-MAN\""  
Subject: Songs about Bill 
 
BILL KNOWLTON, 
 
How about "Kentucky King" by Larry Cordle and Glen Duncan & Lonesome
Standard Time and to an extent "Kentucky Thunder" by Lonesome Standard
Time. 
 
"Kentucky Thunder" does not mention Monroe but mentions bluegrass music.
Bluegrass music and Bill Monroe are synonymous in my book. 
 
If somebody is keeping a running list of these songs I'd sure appreciate
one on Sunday morning. 
 
Thanks, 
Bo McCarty 
"THE BO-MAN" 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 00:02:49 -0700 
From: "Bo McCarty \"THE BO-MAN\""  
Subject: Big Mon 
 
Howdy Folks, 
 
This Sunday is Bill Monroe night at WSIP.  I have a vague clue on what 
to do.  See what you think and I'm open for suggestions. 
 
My early game plan is I hope along the lines of the Big Mon's thinking. 
I plan to play tons of Monroe, but not all Monroe for 4 hours.  I figure 
every other song will be Bill Monroe, but the ones in between are by the 
Monroe youth (that's all bluegrass bands, fans, us!) playing Monroe 
tunes, if possible.   The Poppy Mountain Festival is the following 
weekend, so I'll plug that excellent festival (Monroe was booked, and we 
know the rest) by playing some of the bands booked there and I hope I 
have them doing some Monroe tunes. 
 
IMHO, Mr. Monroe would want it that way.   Helping the other bands out. 
 
To all the artists, radio people, writers, etc., if you'd like to email 
a message for me to read on air about Mr. Monroe's influence, memories 
and the sort, please email me.  If you would rather call for an on 
air I'll email you the phone numbers (a warning the phone stays busy 
all evening and it's hard to get thru) just let me know. Keep them short 
and sweet if possible, since I plan on asking the listeners to do the 
same. A listener phoned me at home with this suggestion and I like it! 
 
Darra R. Combs mentioned she never got to see Bill play.  I feel sorry 
for her and the others who didn't get the chance to see Mr. Monroe. 
In everybody's posts he sounds larger than life. He was. 
He earned your respect as soon as he got in you sight, and it did not 
matter if you knew who he was. 
He grabbed your attention without doing anything or saying a word. Just 
his presence. 
You knew he was special. Is special, his music lives on! 
 
I now consider myself lucky since I saw him several times. I spoke with 
him on a couple and have no idea on what I said now.  No pictures 
together and now I've got that empty feeling.  Lesson learned.  Get 
those pictures taken!! 
 
Mr. Monroe, Thank you again for the  music, friends and my life. 
 
Bo McCarty 
"THE BO-MAN" 
http://www.wwd.net/user/boman 
 
From NLightsMgt@AOL.COMWed Sep 11 12:50:42 1996 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 01:00:00 -0400 
From: Nlightsmgt@AOL.COM 
Reply to: "Bluegrass music discussion."  
To: Multiple recipients of list BGRASS-L  
Subject: Bill's tribute in '95 
 
When the Gloria Pennington and Tom Heany of the National Music Foundation 
invited Northern Lights to be part of a Tribute to Bill Monroe last summer,
I remarked that I thought it was wonderful they were having a tribute to
him while he could not only attend it and enjoy it, but also perform at it
with his Blue Grass Boys. 
 
The event was held August 19 at the Foundation's Berkshire Performing Arts 
Center in Lenox, MA, and also included former Blue Grass Boy Peter Rowan. 
Although Bill appeared tired and pale, he became energized when he began to
play, and he gave the audience a thrilling show.  He brought the house down
when he went into his trademark dance steps! 
 
One thing that struck me as I watched the audience file in was the variety
of ages of people attending, from very young to very old, including some 
teenagers with fluorescent, spiked hair.  Bill's music touched all ages and
tastes. 
 
After the show, Bill greeted people backstage and had his picture taken
with one after another.  After about 20 minutes he asked to be taken to his
motel, but not before asking the Foundation's President, Gloria Pennington,
if she would please invite him back! 
 
Well, we won't be that fortunate.  But it was an unforgettable experience
for all of us who were there, and Bill really enjoyed his tribute.  It was
a wonderful, wonderful evening. 
 
Thanks Gloria and Tom, for presenting this memorable Tribute to Bill
Monroe.  And thanks, Bill, for the memories.  We'll miss you. 
 
Linda Bolton, Northern Lights Mgt. 
 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 03:34:32 UT 
From: John Bird  
Subject: Meeting Mr. Monroe 
 
I think it was 1975, so I was 21 and just learning the mandolin, playing in
a bluegrass band at Carowinds, a theme park outside Charlotte.  They had a 
bluegrass festival, and Mr. Monroe was the biggest name.  I caught him at
the foot of the stage and asked for an autograph.  Told him I played the
mandolin (ah the courage and stupidity of youth).  He signed a slip of
paper that I carried for a long time in my case.  Something along the way
happened to that slip. 
 
Then I said, "I wanted to ask for 'Kentucky Mandolin,' but I wasn't sure if
you still played it."  (What I meant was, he had so many songs, I couldn't 
expect everything to be in his current repertoire.) 
 
He got a fierce look in his steely eyes that I'll never forget as long as I
live.  "Still play it?" he barked out.  Then he did something that still
sends shivers up my spine, 21 years later.  He opened his case and pulled
out that famous F-5, still battered and defaced then.  He started playing
"Kentucky Mandolin" right then and there, just me and him at the foot of
the stage, as he stared straight into my eyes defiantly the whole time.  I
was in awe, afraid, but thrilled.  Needless to say, whenever I hear that
tune, "it brings back memories," as he wrote elsewhere. 
 
So I was not surprised when I read in Neil Rosenberg and elsewhere what a 
proud man he was.  I saw that fierce pride, up close and personal.  It was 
frightening, awesome, inspiring.  The only similar feeling I've had was 
standing in the face of Niagara Falls, feeling the power, awed at the
beauty, afraid of the force in front of me.  Often when I listen to a tune,
like "Bluegrass Breakdown," I can feel that pride and raw power all over
again. Those of us who play the mandolin can play the same notes, but I'm
not sure anybody could ever match the power, the pride, the fierceness. 
 
I'm so thankful to have this list so we can share these stories and these 
feelings.  When a person you care about dies, one of the best things you 
can do is gather with others who care and share stories.  My cousin told me
a story about my mother at her funeral home visitation that made me laugh
till I cried, made everybody else stare.  I read the digest today with
tears in my eyes.  Thanks to all. 
 
To those who feel that there's no way to go on after we've lost the father
of bluegrass, let me say this based on my experience of losing both my
parents by age forty (Bill was orphaned by 12, right?):  you suddenly feel
like the buffer betweeen you and eternity is gone.  And you feel that you
can't go on, that you didn't learn enough from them to carry on.  But then
you go on day by day and realize that they taught you so much, even when
you didn't realize it, and you find yourself putting those lessons to use. 
Yes the bluegrass music will live on.  It will never be exactly the same,
but it will live on.  He and all the other founders laid a firm foundation,
and now it's up to us to keep working on the building.   Pick your mandolin
tonight--whatever your mandolin may be. 
 
 
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 23:06:48 -0500 
From: Jamie L Peterson  
Subject: Carry On... 
 
A few years ago down in Owensboro, I joined two elderly men who were 
listening to a heartfelt and amazing Monroe-style jam that included young 
Chris Thile, Josh Williams, and several of the other phenomenal young 
"Bluegrass All Stars." 

The man closest to me had tears running down his cheeks when he turned 
and said to me, "It won't be that long that ol' Bill'll be 
with us.  Knowin'these kids are gonna keep the music alive...This is the 
best thing I've seen here all week." 
 
What a legacy Mr. Monroe leaves us with. 
 

Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 22:04:35 -0500 
From: Dick Kimmel  
Subject: Bill Monroe Memories 
 
Someone asked me to repost this message - as the entire text did not make
the list sooo--- 
 
Just to pass along a few of my memories -- 
 
At one of the mid-1970's Indian Springs festivals, the Saturday afternoon
show was in the process of being rained out.  I believe I was the MC for
that part of the show, so my job became waiting and chatting with a few
other wet people behind the stage.  Much rain - no music.  When the rain
finally broke late in the afternoon, before we could regroup, Bill Monroe
and his entire band showed up at the stage in full dress.  Even though it
was not his time slot, the Blue Grass Boys went right up on stage
entertaining to what was at first just a handful of listeners standing in
puddles.  I was impressed by the professionalism.  I will never forget
that. 
 
About 10 years later I was in Nashville and went to a benefit at The
Station Inn, a benefit which I learned included folks like Peter Rowan,
Riders In The Sky, and Bill Monroe.  Blake apparently could make the
benefit so a new banjo player joined the Blue Grass Boys.  I loved hearing
the introductions by Bill, which included the familiar, "What's your name
boy."  I loved hearing Bill Monroe sing in a small club.  It was there I
learned about the raw tension created by those notes just a bit under the
pitch the musicologists call perfect. 
 
Just a few years ago Leo Rosenstein and I had the opportunity to open for
Bill Monroe at Commonwealth Convention Center in Louisville.  (Ricky Wasson
and Greg Wilson joined our band for that show.)  One song I did was a very
slow version of Monroe's "On & On" - very different from the original.  I
have to admit that my mind was on the show and not on the author of the
song.  I got chills down my spine when, after our program, Leo told me 
that Bill Monroe had come out from the back stage to listen to my version
of his song. 
 

Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 21:59:10 -0400 
From: Warren Dodd  
Subject: Bye Bill. 
 
  I heard the news on radio this morning (the day after!) and they 
were doing a tribute on sports radio! Shows you how much this 
music means to people. 
 
 I'm usually a wordy poster but not this time. 
 
 Thx for the music Bill!       Goodbye. 
 
  Let's make sure the music doesn't die with him. 
 
 
                                Warren Dodd (Capo) 
                                wdodd@idirect.com 
 

Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 21:21:55 -0400 
From: Howard Parker  
Subject: Re: Newshour with Jim Lehrer 
 
At 07:22 PM 9/10/96 -0400, Al Steiner wrote: 
 
>Tuesday night's Newshour with Jim Lehrer on PBS has a segment toward the 
>end of the show on Bill Monroe.  Ricky Skaggs and Charles Wolfe were on, 
>and, yes, the question, "What is bluegrass?", was asked. 
> 
>I heard at work that there was a spot on yesterday's All Things Considered

>and something on yesterday's CBS Evening News. 
 
 
Also on this morning's _Morning_Edition_ . Interviews with Charles Wolfe
and Peter Rowan. 
 
A fitting tribute! 
 
Howard P 
 
 
+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|++|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+ 
 
                         Howard Parker 
                       hlpdobro@fred.net 
                  http://www.fred.net/hlpdobro 
 
                         Member IBMA 
 
+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+|+ 
 
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 21:20:23 -0400 
From: Udmacon@AOL.COM 

Subject: Dr Charles Wolfe on Jim Lehrer News Hour 
 
Dr Wolfe and Ricky Scaggs were really given a significant amount of time on
tonight's PBS News Hour. Bravo to both on their information-packed tribute
to W.S.M. 
 

Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 20:41:33 PST 
From: Thomas J Banyai  
Subject: Big Mon Tribute songs 
 
Bill Knowlton suggested: 

"PS: Attn deejays and fans: how 'bout listing the tribute songs and the 
recordings artists who did them ("Mr. Bluegrass Here's To You" by ??, for 
example). I'll start the ball rolling with "'Cept Old Bill" by Jethro 
Burns... 
 
some come to mind: 
Kentucky King by The Reno Bros. 
Kerosine Circuit by The Andy Owens Project 
and one on the current BGU chart by The Fox Family called "The Dream" 
 
"All through my life, I've been a sinner, now I'm right with God, so i'm 
travelin' home"  WSM  from *River of Death* 
"When I enter the gates of Heaven, I'm gonna' shine" WSM from *Shine 
Hallelujah Shine* 
 
Shine on Bill. 
 
Tom 
 
 
Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 18:10:07 -0700 
From: Peter Lorch  
Subject: Bill Monroe 
 
My favorite Bill Monroe memory: 
In 1968 a friend and I drove from Michigan down to Bean Blossom, 
Ind.for Monroe's festival.  It was the first real bluegrass festival I 
had ever attended and the music was all great. (It was one of the first 
shows that Larry Sparks played with Ralph Stanley after Carter had 
died.)  Late Saturday night I left the stage area and took a walk.  I 
was wandering around the, by that time, deserted concession area when I 
came upon Bill Monroe sitting all alone in the dark in a concession 
booth playing a slow tune on his F5.  I felt like I was almost 
intruding so I didn't linger very long. It gave me chills then and it 
still does remembering it. 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 15:40:59 EST 
From: Lee Taylor  
Subject: Mr. Monroe - just my thoughts. 
 
One of my heroes is dead. 
 
I knew he was sick, knew he probably wouldn't live too much longer, but I 
didn't know how I'd feel when I got the news that he'd passed on. 
 
It feels like there's a hole in the world now, a big empty space where 
something pure and vital and essential once stood.  Up until now, when 
contemplating or discussing the future or direction of our music, of HIS 
music, we could always refer back to the source.  It always seemed that 
Bill would just go on forever, constant, self-assured, timeless. 
 
There have been a lot of discussions and arguments about the origins of the
bluegrass music, but the simple basic fact is that this man created this 
music.  Who knows exactly what drove him to make the decisions he made, but
for whatever reason, whether commercial or artistic, he was compelled by
his personal vision to pull together various ethnic and cultural components
into something truly unique, a new musical form. 
 
That music will forever bear the name of his band, and the music will go on
without him, but the world is a little sadder and less musical place
without him. 
 
Lee Taylor 
Atlanta, GA 
ltaylor@dca.com 
 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 16:01:30 -0400 
From: EBurkett@AOL.COM 
Subject: Southern Cal. mourns, celebrates Monroe 
 
Ben Elder reports that this Sunday, Sept. 15, at the Ash Grove (on the
Santa Monica Pier in Los Angeles), the Laurel Canyon Ramblers' appearance
will include tributes to Bill Monroe. Ash Grove owner Ed Pearl is busy
contacting people who knew Bill Monroe and hopes to include open-mike
performances and other tribute material (including various tapes of Bill
Monroe, solo and with Doc Watson and others, from performances at the
original Ash Grove). Ben will play some recorded Monroe music before the
performance. Ash Grove info line: (310) 656-8500; office (310) 394-7015. 
 
All 2-1/2 hours of Frank Javorsek's "Bluegrass Express" radio show on KCSN 
88.5, Sat. 9/14 will be devoted to Bill Monroe. 
 
Last night the San Diego Bluegrass Club gathered at the Carlton Oaks
Country Club in Santee, with over 200 people in attendance. Wayne Rice
brought a beautiful flower arrangement and placed it on a small table at
the side of the stage, along with a framed picture of Mr. Monroe. Wayne and
his band Lighthouse performed many Monroe songs, and Wayne and Rick Kirby
offered very emotional testimonies to the Father of Bluegrass. Noel Taggart
sang a moving version of "Go Rest High on that Mountain." Later in the
evening, Dan Mazer performed a solo banjo tribute to Bill Monroe, and read
to the audience his memories of the Big Mon, as he previously posted them
here on BGRASS-L. I think the tribute that might have pleased Bill Monroe
the most came in the form of the lively outdoor jam session that went on
for hours --Mr. Monroe may have finally gone home to rest, but his music
will never die. 
 
Wayne Rice moved through the crowd and recorded folks talking about their 
favorite Bill Monroe songs. He'll use the tape on his "Bluegrass Special" 
radio broadcast this Sunday on KSON 97.3 (10 pm to midnight). 
 
Ben Elder's "Wildwood Flower" show on KPFK yesterday featured all Bill
Monroe songs, organized by themes: "Monroe Brothers and Other Relations" 
(All the Good Times are Passed and Gone; Uncle Pen); "Animals" (New
Muleskinner Blues, Wheel Hoss, Molly and Tenbrooks, Turkey in the Straw);
"Kentucky" (Blue Moon of..., ...Mandolin, ...Waltz, etc.); Instrumentals
(Jerusalem Ridge, O.B.S., Monroe's Hornpipe [from a Kenny Baker LP with
Bill on mandolin]); "Hard Life and Its Troubles"; "Good Gals and
Sweethearts" and "Happy on My Way" (Working on a Building, A Voice from on
High). 
 
Ben says he didn't have time for a short "Monroe By Any Other Name..." set 
which would have featured the compositional contributions of the likes of 
James Smith and Joe Ahr--maybe next week.  Also maybe next week, a repeat
of the Marty Stuart-Bill Monroe interview plugging the release of the MCA
4-CD set of  Bill Monroe's music, 1936-94. 
 
The L.A. Times and the San Diego Union-Tribune both ran good-sized and 
accurate obituaries with large photos of Bill Monroe. Both papers have web 
sites: 
http://www.uniontrib.com 
http://www.latimes.com 
 
I've received a lot of phone calls and email from people sharing the news
and sharing their grief. Several people have told me they are surprised by
the depth of their own reactions to Monroe's passing. Personally, I am sad
to hear the news. But I am so glad to know that Bill Monroe is released
from sickness and suffering. And I am very grateful to have been around for
at least part of his long and amazingly productive life. So, although I am 
mourning his loss, I am also celebrating Bill Monroe and the wonderful
music for which he laid a most solid foundation. Let's keep working on the 
building! 
 
________________________________________________________________ 
Elizabeth Burkett     San Diego, California     eburkett@aol.com 
 
Think globally, pick locally. 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 11:42:37 -0700 
From: The Bluegrass Chronicle  
Reply to: "Bluegrass music discussion."  
To: Multiple recipients of list BGRASS-L  
Subject: In Memory Of Bill Monroe 
 
All of us at The Bluegrass Chronicle were saddened to hear about the death 
of a legend whose music greatly affected all of our lives.  In honor of his
memory, we are going to dedicate the entire October issue to the memory of 
Bill Monroe.  We invite you to send anecdotes about Bill Monroe, amusing 
stories, photographs, anything you might want to say about the man, for 
publication in the paper. 
 
Thank You, 
National Entertainment Network 
PO Box 31557 
San Fransisco, CA  94131 
Email: bgchron@slip.net 
http://www.slip.net/~bgchron/ 
 
 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 14:13:58 +0100 
From: Tom Holzen  
Subject: Monroe funeral report 
 
Well, Big Mon had a beautiful funeral service today.  His body lay in state

for a last goodbye look by his many friends, from 8:30 to 10 am, then they 
closed the coffin, placing his white hat on top.  He lay on the floor of 
the Ryman, while his songs, one after another, played softly in the 
background.  A mandolin was then placed in a stand on stage, said stand on 
a table draped in black cloth, the stage was adorned with a zillion 
flowers. 
 
The ceremony started with Bill's recording of My Last Days on Earth, 
through the PA, with seagulls and everything. 
 
Then the "house band" came out--Vince Gill on guitar, Ricky Skaggs on 
mandolin, Marty Stuart on mandolin, Stuart Duncan on the little fiddle, and

Roy Husky, Jr., looking as fit as the big fiddle he carried.  They sang 
Working on a Building, Ricky singing lead, then Emmylou Harris came out, 
joined the band on guitar, and sang Wayfaring Stranger. 
 
Pastor Paul Baggett of Millersville, TN then delivered an eulogy and
prayer. 
 
The band returned, with Ralph Stanley on vocal harmony, Ricky sang lead on 
Rank Stranger, followed by Angel Band, with Alison Krauss adding harmony, 
then Life's Evening Sun. 
 
Connie Smith came out, the band backing her for a marvelous How Great Thou 
Art, which was so moving, spontaneous applause broke out. 
 
Pastor Roger Bush then delivered another eulogy, and the band returned with
Patty Loveless for Go Rest High on that Mountain.  Ricky then 
extemporaneously gave a short speech, felt another tune needed playing, and
launched into Rawhide. 
 
The funeral procession then left the Ryman, lead by three bagpipes playing 
Amazing Grace. 
 
A beautiful service.   Tomorrow is burial in Rosine. 
 
TWH 
 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 18:45:53 CST 
From: mary.yeomans@MCMAIL.VANDERBILT.EDU 
Subject: Monroe a way on up there 
 
     Ricky, at the service today, told a great story about Monroe.  Bill 
     was on a panel one time somewhere with some hot country stars.  They 
     were talking about how many records they'd sold.  One artist said he'd 
     sold 3 or 4 million.  The next artist had sold somewhere around 2.5 
     million.  They said, "Mr. Monroe, how many records have you sold."  He
     said, "Well, I don't know, but it's a way on up there."  (Skaggs of 
     course used Monroe's voice).  The crowd fell out.  And Skaggs said, 
     "And that's where he is, he's a way on up there." 
 
     He then apologized in advance, saying, "so I just want to say that if 
     this seems inappropriate to some, please forgive us, then pray about 
     it and you'll get over it.  This is what Marty instigated and I 
     blessed and I said this is it.  And THEN they flew into Rawhide, to 
     the delight of the folks.  Pretty cool.  Hot fiddle by Duncan.  Mando 
     duets!  And Roy just a-walkin the heck off of the bass, fancy wrist 
     movements and all.  Rousing applause.  Ovation.  THE MAN.  HIS MUSIC. 
     Bagpipes.  Amazing Grace. 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 18:34:39 CST 
From: mary.yeomans@MCMAIL.VANDERBILT.EDU 
Subject: Monroe Memorial at the Ryman 
 
     Wish you all could have been at the Ryman this morning for the 
     memorial service for Bill Monroe.  It was a beautiful tribute to a 
     wonderful man.  Many of us arrived there around 8:00; some people had 
     been there long before, skipping breakfast and sleep to be sure they'd
     be able to have a place in the Ryman for this farewell gathering 
     celebrating the life of the Father of Bluegrass. 
 
     As publicized, the doors opened around 8:30 and a long, steady line of
     family, friends, fans, and colleagues streamed past for their last 
     glimpse of the man who stood firm in his vision of the music we love 
     so well, the man who was able capture and commit to music those 
     feelings which for most of us only remain hopelessly trapped somewhere
     deep within our hearts and souls clawing for a chance for expression. 
     Bill looked fine in his repose, though not at all like the
     iron-willed, tenacious and tender man we've grown to love and admire. 
     The body was there, but the soul had escaped its earthly bondage and 
     flown free. 
 
     The stage was a feast of floral arrangements, each larger and more 
     colorful than the next.  One had a mandolin with a poem attached to 
     it, surrounded by flowers.  I think that was the arrangement that 
     someone said had come from Jimmy Martin, and that the poem had been 
     written by him. 
 
     At the head of his silver-blue casket stood a large portrait of Mr. 
     Monroe, I mean THE portrait of the Father of Bluegrass, done many 
     years ago by Nashville's Jim McGuire.  It is an image of Bill tenderly
     clutching his precious mandolin, his arms gently encircling it like a 
     mother holding her newborn baby, his face expressing a quietly 
     blissful and loving countenance.  Throughout the service, I found my 
     eyes traveling time and again to rest on the portrait that so 
     perfectly captured the body and soul, the essence, of our beloved Mr. 
     Monroe. 
 
     The white hat lay carefully placed inside the casket lid, a silver 
     band around it, a row of silver quarters (placed there by people 
     returning to Bill what he'd so freely given for years) lining the lip 
     of the casket.  Much attention was given by the media to the quarter 
     story...how Bill had, for years, given out quarters to children.  It 
     came to light that this started because Bill's daddy, Buck, had on 
     occasion given Bill a coin when he was just a small child.  They were 
     very poor and this was a big deal to Bill.  Later, when he had extra 
     coins in his pocket, Mr. Monroe would give them to children (and 
     occasionally adults) everywhere he went.  It is remarkable (or maybe 
     not) how many people (myself included) have held on to those quarters 
     because BILL MONROE gave them to them, then wished to return them to 
     him in the "what goes around comes around" spirit. 
 
     It was interesting to watch the procession of admirers filing solemnly
     past Bill.  Yes, many, many tears were shed in the sadness of final 
     parting, in regret for the things we could've said or done but didn't,
     or the times we could've gone to see him, or maybe just because we 
     realized that Mr. Bill walked this earth no more and knew how much 
     we'd miss his earthly presence.  The love that poured forth from 
     virtually all present was uplifting and the tears washed away our 
     sorrow, filling us with the freshness of a warm spring rain.  We all 
     knew he'd gone on home to a better place. 
 
     I started to list all the entertainers and celebrities I saw file by, 
     but I couldn't write fast enough.  Every other person was someone 
     you've seen on stage or heard on the radio.  But the reason we were 
     all there, Bill Monroe, and our love of his music, was the bottom 
     line.  And in that we are all equal.  So suffice it to say that the 
     room was full of Bill's friends and colleagues, and it would be easier
     to list who wasn't there than who was. 
 
     I was sitting just behind Bill's sister Bertha ("Berthy" as Bill 
     fondly called her), sole survivor of Bill's numerous siblings.  She 
     went up to Bill's casket, placed front and center of the stage on the 
     floor below, and wept long and hard.  Seeing her there, so frail and 
     heartbroken, torn apart with grief, caused a mandolin-sized lump to 
     form in my throat.  Bill is dead. 
 
     During the "visitation", Bill's recordings were softly played and many
     of us sat in silence listening and remembering hearing them performed 
     by Bill at various festivals, or thinking of times when he'd touched 
     our lives.  Finally, as the Rocky Road Blues was playing, ushers came 
     forward and gently closed the casket.  Our last glimpse of Bill. 
 
     The service began with a recording of Bill's powerful piece, "My Last 
     Days on Earth," gulls crying, wind blowing.  We were there at seaside 
     with Bill, his spirit taking wing.  The room was absolutely quiet 
     except for sobs and sniffles.  Thinking of Bill writing that piece, 
     and that it was being played at his memorial, was overwhelming.  Then 
     Vince Gill, Ricky Skaggs, Marty Stuart, Stuart Duncan and Roy Huskey, 
     Jr., came out on stage and sang/picked "Working on A Building."  This 
     was followed by "Wayfaring Stranger" sung by Emmylou Harris with 
     Vince, Ricky, Marty, Stuart and Roy accompanying her.  Those of us 
     who'd only begun to feel devastated at our loss, maybe had only one or
     two mascara-stained streams of tears rolling down our faces, 
     completely lost our composure during this song, though Emmylou didn't 
     sing Bill's favorite verse (see my earlier post).  It was beautiful. 
     And he'd sung it so often those last few months. 
 
     Many of us wondered where the Lloyd Loar was; a mandolin was placed 
     onstage, but it was a mandolin (somebody said 50th anniversary) with a
     likeness of Mr. Monroe on the headstock.  It was a mandolin I'd never 
     seen him play. 
 
     Pastor Paul Baggett of the Millersville Assembly of God church then 
     gave a eulogy and offered a prayer; he said Bill had blazed a path for
     James to follow, the path had become a road and that James would take 
     the music to even greater heights. 
 
     Next, a very solemn Ralph Stanley came out and sang the "Rank 
     Stranger" with Vince, Ricky, Marty, Roy and Stuart 
     singing/accompanying him.  It was a really wonderful thing to hear 
     Ralph out there singing his heart out for a man he loved and admired 
     so very much, and it was clear that Ralph was having great difficulty 
     maintaining his composure; he succeeded, stoic mountain man that he 
     is.  They sang "Angel Band (not on the program)," Allison Krauss 
     joining them to sing high baritone. 
 
     Ralph sang lead on "A Beautiful Life."  It filled me with joy to see 
     Roy Huskey up there playing the bass, looking just exactly like Roy 
     Huskey.  I got choked up thinking about how much he's been through 
     lately and knowing how much it meant to him to be playing these songs 
     Bill loved so well at his memorial service.  Duncan's lonesome, bluesy
     and tasteful fiddle backup added greatly to the emotional experience. 
     Both Marty and Ricky played the mandolin, and there was no banjo. 
 
     Connie Smith came out with her small frame and large voice and sang 
     "How Great Thou Art", to very minimal accompaniment, and that was 
     surely absolutely THE most moving and tastefully incredible 
     performance of that song I have ever heard anywhere by anyone.  As 
     Eddie Stubbs later said, "she's the Rolls Royce of female singers." 
     The audience held their collective breath, and after she sang the last
     note, there was a nearly imperceptible pause, followed by thunderous 
     applause. 
 
     Next, Bill's own home church pastor, Roger Rush, of the Holiday 
     Heights Church in Hendersonville, delivered a touchingly sincere, 
     warm, and insightful eulogy celebrating the life of the man he clearly
     loved very well.  He told amusing anecdotes of some of Bill's 
     endearing quirks, such as Bill bringing a gift to church one night 
     that he'd clearly wrapped himself.  He brought it for a little boy 
     from a poor family who attended the church.  He asked Pastor Rush to 
     see that the boy was given the gift the following day, which was the 
     boy's birthday.  He said, "Give it to him tomorrow, not today, and not
     the day after tomorrow, but TOMORROW!"  We roared.  We felt relieved. 
     Celebrate his life, his uniqueness.  The pastor was able to convey 
     through his choice of words and stories the aspects of Mr. Monroe that
     many of us were fortunate to know, the very sweet, sentimental side of
     a strong and determined pioneering musician who persevered through 
     many tragedies and illnesses that would've left most of us in pieces. 
 
     The service drawing to a close, Vince Gill, Patty Loveless, and 
     company sang "Go Rest High on that Mountain," and we all knew he had. 
     Finally, the Nashville Pipes (bagpipes) came in playing "Amazing 
     Grace," a fitting closing to a memorial for a scotsman. 
 
     An impromptu decision by Marty and crew caused the musicians to bolt 
     into a rousing performance of Rawhide.  It seemed like Bill would've 
     wanted it that way.  The closing notes revealed a standing and 
     cheering ovation for the man and his music.  Bill would've been proud.

 
     The crowded room emptied slowly as family and friends followed Mr. 
     Monroe out into the brilliant sunshine.  Many of us stayed around 
     reminiscing, reluctant to leave, not wanting this time of 
     togetherness, this connectedness to pass.  Many hugs, tears and Monroe
     stories later, the last of us had headed back out onto our respective 
     paths, greatly enriched by the experience. 
 
     Rosine tomorrow. 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 16:41:30 -0700 
From: Rob Hakanson  
Subject: Bill Monroe story 
 
I sent this story to the COMMANDO list earlier today.  I left out two
important elements to the story:  it was 1990, so bill was 78, and the
weather was hot (and his air conditioned bus was nice and cool). 
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ok, I'll tell one. 
 
I was playing in a small festival in Canby, OR, where Bill was the
headliner. Prior to the festival, my band at the time, Pumpkin Ridge,
planned to ask Bill to come on stage with us to play "Wheel Hoss."  I had
worked up a three part fiddle arrangement, and we had a couple of friends
to play fiddle with us.  We had no idea if he would be available or willing
to join us on stage, but we planned it out and hoped for the best. 
 
Several hours before our set, we went into the bus, asked him, and he
agreed!! We were all set. 
 
The band before us, "The Wally's," was playing their set, and to their 
surprise, up steps Bill Monroe, asking if he can play "Wheel Hoss" with
them. They said "Sure!," of course.  Someone had miscommunicated when Big
Mon needed to go to the stage.  The Wally's had the time of their lives,
and my heart sank. 
 
After Bill left the stage, someone told him what had happened.  He asked
for a lawn chair, and he planted himself right next to the stage to watch
the rest of the Wally's set and the start of our set.  He was going to wait
and play "Wheel Hoss" with us, too! 
 
We got to that portion of the set, we got our fiddle friends on stage with
us, Bill joined us, and we played the song.  It was probably the highlight
of my musical life. 
 
He was a class act. 
 
Rob Hakanson 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 18:02:52 -0500 
From: DJC2464@ACS.TAMU.EDU 
Subject: Re: Info needed on Bill Monroe's last... 
 
>Urgently needed information on: 
> 
>1) WHERE and WHEN was Bill Monroe's last public performance (concert, 
>festival or other such kind of event where he took part in)??? 
 
I believe the Friday night Opry on March 15 was his last public
performance.  Think that's what they said on WSM 650. 
 
Danny Joe Cecil 
 
 
Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 18:22:10 CST 
From: Randy Smith  
Subject: Seeing Bill Monroe 
 
I've been part of two very emotional story-tellings for friends who've
died. Being part of this electronic gathering has been a really moving
experience. Thank *all* of you for your stories.  Mary Yeomans, yours have
been especially touching.  And John Bird's story was the *last* one on the
digest!  Talk about leaving with a punch. 
 
1979 I first saw Bill Monroe in a small town in north central Missouri. 
Because my wife and I were returning home from my grandmother's, we didn't
time our arrival very well and arrived very early at the gymnasium where M
was playing.  As a few more people showed up, someone let us in the
gymnasium. The lights wouldn't be turned on for an hour or so.  Some people
sat in the bleachers talking or eating, others read by themselves, a few
others went outside.  Three of us found a basketball in the corner and shot
a few baskets for a while.  One of the guys I was playing with picked up a
missed shot that had rebounded over toward the door.  Just then Kenny Baker
walked in a made a signal with his hands as if to say, "Hey, pass it to
me."  Baker took a shot, missed, but got his own rebound.  He stayed around
a few minutes more and played with us before leaving to shower in the gym
basement.  Ok, I thought. This really happened.  I really was shooting hoop
with guy whose entire record output I had back home under the stereo. 
 
Monroe and Wayne Lewis walked in.  I'd never seen Monroe in person, so I
was anxious to hear anything he said.  He walked by three or four people
who were standing a few feet away.  He wore no hat, just his gray hair
combed back.  No dress coat.  Old, old jeans. "Are you looking for Bill
Monroe?" he said innocently to the group.  "I haven't seen him.  Let me
know if you see him." 
 
The end of October 1989, just a week (or two?) before the anniversary of
his 50th year on the Opry, he came to Injun Joe's, just southwest of
Hannibal, Mo. (The band at this date was Blake Williams, Billy Rose, Tom
Ewing, and Tater Tate on fiddle.) I'd brought the huge Gibson F5 poster (c.
1982, it shows Monroe playing a Bill M F5 backstage in an Opry dressing
room) that reads KING OF BLUEGRASS.  I brought it hoping he would sign it,
but I wasn't sure how he'd react to a poster proclaiming him to be--letters
several inches high--Jimmy Martin.  When I got to speak to him to ask him
to sign the poster, I unrolled it in front of him and asked if he would
please sign and date it.  He didn't say a word, only moved his head up and
down slowly while his eyes scanned the poster.  He signed it and returned
my pen. I said "Thank you," and he nodded. "There's a tv person I have to
see," he said gently.  Later, at intermission, the Blue Grass Boys each
signed the poster. Tom Ewing really got a chuckle out of it. 
 
I saw Monroe only three times after that night. The final time came in
Rosine last year during IBMA when he played with the U.S. Navy Band at a
ceremony dedicated to the unveiling of a plaque in his honor.  The love
coming from the crowd was something wonderful to be a small part of.  He
sat in chair listening to the band do one of his numbers, I think "Big
Mon," and he couldn't keep still for a minute.  When he reached over the
arm of the chair to get the Loar out, we all clapped and hollered.  After
the unveiling I walked over to the graveyard to see J.B., Malissa, and
Birch's markers, and of course, Uncle Pen's.  Two weeks from today I hope
to be back in Rosine and read the name on Monroe's tombstone,just what he
asked us to do in "Six Feet Under the Ground." You come too. 
 
Thanks again for your stories, they're comforting.  I need them because
that feeling's starting to set in. 
 
 
Date: Thu, 12 Sep 1996 03:34:59 +1000 
From: ER_AS 002 337795  
Subject: Bill Monroe 
 
I'm sure I speak for many Bluegrass fans, collectors and players in
Australia in expressing sincere sorrow at the loss of Bill Monroe. My
friend, Hedley Charles, in Burnie, Tasmania,  will feature a tribute to him
on his Bluegrass and old-time music radio program this week. Burnie,
Tasmania is, on a world scale, an insignificant town, but it speaks volumes
for the significance of Bill Monroe that his music is played in a plethora
of such places all around the world. 

Andrew Smith 
 

Date: Thu, 12 Sep 1996 22:10:29 +1200 
From: Julian Winston  
Subject: more memories 
 
Two from a Tex Logan party.... 
 
This is about a year after Richard Greene and Peter Rowan left the 
Bluegrass Boys. Bill started to play-- with his band-- at about 9:30. They 
did an hour's set. Then Bill starts talking about how he's going to play 
all night, and all these folks are here to help him. He starts to name 
them-- me, David Grisman, Bob Yellin, Eric Weissberg, Gene Lowinger, Pete 
Rowan... Then he says, "Where's Richard?" And, as if on cue, Richard walks 
in with his fiddle case. Bill hasn't seen Richard in a year-- and Richard's
hair has gotten really long.  Bill looks up and says, "come on up and play
a 
tune, Richard." Richard gets all flustered, and Bill bullies him. Bill 
says, "What's the matter? Your hair is so long that you can't hear any 
more?" So Richard caved in and played Orange Blossom Special.... 
 
Another year-- probably 1966-- it was about 2AM. I was playing banjo, Jody 
Stecher was playing guitar, and Bill came up and wanted to sing a duet. I 
forget what song it was, but Bill and Jody sang two duets. Bill stared at 
Jody during the whole time. 

About an hour later I went outside to get a soda from the cooler. Bill was 
there. He says, "That boy in there. Was he the same one who backed you at 
Roanoke?" I said he was. "What's he do?" I said that he was in his last 
year of College. "Why, he sure has gotten better. That boy shouldn't do 
nothing but play music." 

Did he ever say a word to Jody? Nope! -- But I did.... 
 
Winnie 
 

Date: Wed, 11 Sep 1996 23:36:34 -0400 
From: "Stephen L. Hanes"  
Subject: Goodbye Mr. Monroe 
 
Today at noon (Ottawa) Valley Grass members Mike O'Reilly, Vic Chartrand, 
Eddie Pigeon, and myself played a farewell tribute to Mr. Monroe on
Ottawa's CJOH-TV - MidDay Newsline. 
 
A short conversation about Mr. Monroe and his accomplishments, running 
with selected video clips, was followed by a complete version of Rocky 
Road Blues - mandolin lead, guitar, fiddle, and bass respectively. Mike 
kicked it off on the mandolin, half time, and sang a chorus...the fiddle 
then kicked it up to tempo and we did the whole thing...there were wet 
eyes... 
 
Thanks to Mike for setting it up, and to CJOH for putting us on the air. 
 
"...I can't eat and I can't sleep, all I do is sit and cry..." 
 
Steve 
**************************************************************** 
Stephen Hanes, Director 
The Ottawa Valley Bluegrass Music Association 
Your Canadian Resource For Bluegrass On The Internet - Grass Clippings 
http://fox.nstn.ca/~jlibby/index.html 
**************************************************************** 
 
 
Date: Thu, 12 Sep 1996 23:16:00 -0500 
From: "Paul F. Wells"  
Subject: A funeral in Rosine 
 
Bill Monroe was returned to his hometown of Rosine, Kentucky today.  A 
crowd of 300-400 people--far more than could fit inside the tiny 
Methodist church--gathered to pay respects and share a final moment with 
the man whose remarkable heart, head, and hands gave the world a 
new type of music. 
 
Those who arrived too late to get a spot inside the church filed through, 
signing guest registers and passing by the open casket.  Many people 
placed quarters on the rim of the casket, others said short prayers, 
crossed themselves, or just stood for a moment in teary silence, 
exchanging hugs and touches with those near them.  Folks gathered in the 
yard behind the church, some on folding lawn chairs, some on hoods of 
cars, or leaning against the railings of the small white, wooden 
bandstand that carries a sign welcoming all to the Rosine Community 
Center. 
 
Art Stamper, Dan Jones and other musicians warmed up a bit on 
the bandstand before the service began.  Many folks greeted old friends 
and acquaintances, passed a few words of pleasantries, and began to share 
their memories of Bill Monroe and his music.  "My daddy used to play 
music with him when they were growin' up here."  "He sure could pick fire 
outta that man'lin, couldn't he?"  Three sixty-something gentlemen in 
overalls and tractor caps engaged in a heartfelt discussion of the 
hereafter, and how one needed to live one's life to keep from going down 
below.....I couldn't exactly tell if they were speculating on Monroe's 
fate, or engaging in abstract theological discussion. 
 
Plenty of bluegrass music's finest were there---Del McCoury, Ralph 
Stanley, Bobby Osborne, Laurie Lewis, Wayne Lewis, Tater Tate, Butch 
Robbins...many more.  Much of the Nashville crowd of pickers was there: 
Alan O'Bryant, John Hedgecoth, Butch Baldassari, David Grier...others who 
I'm no doubt forgetting.  Kenny Baker's presence was announced, but I 
never saw him.  But also lots of country folks in t-shirts and jeans. 
 
Shortly after 2:00, Ricky Skaggs began singing "Amazing Grace" a capella, 
and the people outside stopped their visiting and their milling around. 
Many people moved a step closer to their neighbors.  As Ricky moved 
through the verses, people inside the church began to join in the 
singing.  Soon, most people outside were singing as well.  For the final 
verse, Skaggs sang simply "Praise God" over and over again to the melody, 
with virtually everyone in attendance singing with him.  Then Ralph 
Stanley, joined by Ricky for harmony, sang a song that was new to me, and 
for which I do not know the title: "...take off the old coat and put on 
the new."  One of the most moving performances that it's ever been my 
good fortune to hear. 
 
There was much more music, from Del, from Art Stamper, from Wayne Lewis, 
from Ricky Skaggs....and from a wonderful black woman singer, Alma 
Randolph, who grew up in nearby Beaver Dam, but who now lives in 
Owensboro.  Her more modern gospel style lost some of the folks outside, 
but her voice was great and the performance heartfelt.  I suspect that 
Mr. Monroe would have enjoyed hearing her. 
 
Testimony from friends and associates, followed by words from the 
preacher ended the church service.  The casket was carried out to the 
hearse for the short drive to the cemetery.  People apart from the family 
were asked to walk, and a long parade of folks filled the distance 
between the church and the grave yard.  More singing from Ralph, Ricky, 
and others followed at graveside, and after a few more words from the 
preacher, the casket was lowered into the ground.  Two workmen with 
shovels began the work of filling in the grave, but numerous others in 
attendance picked up handfuls of dirt and threw them in on top of the 
casket.  The preacher took the quarters that had earlier been placed on 
the casket and distributed them to the children in the crowd, always with 
the comment that he felt sure that Mr. Monroe would want them to have it. 
 
People continued milling and talking, visiting other graves in the 
cemetery.  Uncle Pen is across the way, Charlie is nearby, and Bill's 
parents are next to him.  "On Mom's is 'Gone, but not forgotten,' On 
Dad's 'We'll meet again someday'." 
 
Finally it was time to leave.  I came away feeling that it was one of the 
most meaningful things I'd ever done, and that I understood bluegrass a 
little differently, and perhaps a little more fully, than I ever had 
before in the 30-odd years that I've been listening to it. 
 
===========================================================================
Paul F. Wells 
Center for Popular Music/Middle Tennessee State University 
Murfreesboro, TN  37132  U.S.A. 
pfwells@frank.mtsu.edu 
 

Date: Fri, 13 Sep 1996 10:49:26 -0400 
From: OJNAB@AOL.COM 
Subject: B.Monroe Memory 
 
       I first want to say that I've been totally inspired by the beautiful
posts sent by Winnie Winston. Here's my favorite Bill Monroe memory. This 
occurred during one of my pilgrimages to Bean Blossom from 1970 to 1973.
Bill Monroe announced that the Blue Grass Boys would be playing in the barn
for square dancers. My friend and I arrived early and were in perfect
position to view the stage area. For those who haven't been there, the barn
stage was low, only slightly higher than the floor. At the rear of the
stage was a door leading to a dressing room, with either a curtain or
partial wall covering the opening. Well, the Bluegrass Boys played for a
good half hour or so, with nobody dancing but the room filled with admiring
fans. All of a sudden, Bill Monroe appeared from the back room behind the
stage. He stepped up to the microphone, without a mandolin, and sang a few
songs. He then began singing a medley of songs. While into the second
number, a very young boy (perhaps 6 years old) came out of the back room
holding a mandolin in his two small hands. He took up position directly
behind Bill Monroe, and just stood there silently. Nobody in the band
turned around or paid any attention to him. Another song went by, but at a
certain point, as he was nearing the end of a chorus, Bill Monroe put his
left hand down by his side and slightly behind him. That was the signal and
the young boy stepped forward, placing the mandolin firmly into Bill's
hand. In one motion he lifted the mandolin to the microphone and began a
break, all without missing a beat! My friend and I just stared at each
other in disbelief. 
 
Date: Fri, 13 Sep 1996 09:44:07 -0400 
From: Dr Mike Kelley  
Subject: Washington Post on Bill Monroe (fwd) 
 
I wanted to share this piece from the front page of Tuesday's 
Washington Post. 
 
We are all so fortunate and blessed by Bill's 84 years on earth. 
 
     _________________________________________________________________ 
 
 
                 Bill Monroe, Father of Bluegrass, Dies at 84 
 
In Career of More Than 60 Years, He Created Uniquely American Style 
 
   By Martin Weil 
   Washington Post Staff Writer 
   Tuesday, September 10 1996; Page A01 
   The Washington Post 
 
   Bill Monroe, the proud and courtly Kentucky-born singer, composer and 
   mandolin player who was known around the world as the father of 
   bluegrass music, died yesterday in a nursing home in Springfield, 
   Tenn. 
 
   Monroe, who had suffered a stroke earlier this year, was four days 
   short of his 85th birthday when he died at the Northcrest Home and 
   Hospice Center. The facility is about 40 miles north of Nashville, the 
   home of the Grand Ole Opry, where Monroe had performed regularly since 
   1939. 
 
   Bluegrass, a distinct form of country music that has become widely 
   popular in urban America, was named for the group Monroe formed and 
   with which he toured for decades: Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys. 
 
   It is a nickname derived from the grass that grows around Lexington, 
   Ky. The music is characterized by complex harmonies and driving 
   rhythms, usually played on acoustic string instruments. 
 
   But to the fans here, who won Washington the reputation as the 
   nation's bluegrass capital, and to the buyers of his 50 million 
   records, "bluegrass" meant Monroe's fast-fingered mandolin virtuosity 
   and his emotion-laden tenor voice, which he described as "high 
   lonesome." 
 
   Even as the roots of country music had been traced to the sounds and 
   sorrows of the early English settlers of Appalachia, Monroe was 
   credited by students and performers of American popular music as 
   creating and handing on something new out of country. 
 
   Early in his career, Elvis Presley, who took music in a different 
   direction, sang new lyrics to one of Monroe's best-known and most 
   heartfelt melodies, "Blue Moon of Kentucky." In fact, rock-and-roll 
   was once called slow-motion, electrified bluegrass. 
 
   Bluegrass was eclipsed by the rise of rock, but its influence and 
   popularity remained strong. 
 
   In an interview several years ago, Jerry Garcia, famed leader of the 
   Grateful Dead, said of Monroe, "He's one of the most important guys in 
   20th-century American music." Garcia, who died in 1995, said Monroe 
   "invented a music that's peculiarly American." 
 
   Part of the influence Monroe exerted on the nation's musical culture 
   was in the performers who had played with him and went on to fame on 
   their own, including Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs. Music historians 
   also trace his influence on such latter-day performers as Ricky Skaggs 
   and Alison Krauss. 
 
   A prolific composer, known for such works as "Kentucky Waltz," 
   "Footprints in the Snow," "When You Are Lonely," "Gotta Travel On" and 
   "A Letter From My Darling," Monroe was a man of few words away from 
   the bandstand. 
 
   However, in a 1989 interview, he appeared to explain the drive that 
   led him to continue performing despite age and health problems. "I 
   love to play music and hear it," he said. "I love to put the sounds 
   and notes in there that I want to hear. I want to do the best I can 
   for my friends and fans sitting out there in the audience." 
 
   Born Sept. 13, 1911, on a farm near the hamlet of Rosine, Ky., in the 
   western part of the state, Monroe was the youngest of eight children, 
   and he received a musical inheritance. His mother played the fiddle; 
   his father could dance. 
 
   By the time he was a teenager, both parents had died, and he went to 
   live with his uncle, Pendleton Vandiver, who is honored in Monroe's 
   "Uncle Pen." Vandiver, too, was a musician, and growing up, Monroe 
   heard all the sounds said to be the roots of bluegrass. 
 
   In addition to country, heard live at dances and on the radio on 
   Chicago station WLS, those included gospel and also blues, as played 
   by an admired black neighbor. 
 
   In 1934, he and his brother Charlie began performing as the Monroe 
   Brothers. Two years later, they made their first record for RCA 
   Victor. In 1938, the brothers split, and Monroe formed a new group 
   called the Kentuckians. It later became the Blue Grass Boys. 
 
   It was in a 1945 recording session that the Blue Grass Boys, now 
   including Flatt and Scruggs, as well as Chubby Wise and Howard Watts, 
   first produced the sound that would be known as bluegrass. Many honors 
   came Monroe's way. In 1970, he was inducted into the Country Music 
   Hall of Fame. In 1989, he received the first Grammy for bluegrass. Two 
   years later, he was named to the International Bluegrass Music Hall of 
   Honor. In 1993, he received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the 
   National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences. 
 
   Last year, regarded as an American institution, he went to the White 
   House to receive the National Medal of the Arts from President 
   Clinton. He said then that he considered it his mission to keep 
   bluegrass music pure. "That's the way it's got to be," he said. "I 
   wanted it to go from my heart to your heart and let both of us hear 
   it." 
 
   Survivors include his son, James, and a grandson. A daughter died in 
   1990. 
 
   @CAPTION: Bill Monroe was as hard-driving as the musical form he 
   created. An appreciation, Page E1. 
 
                )Copyright 1996 The Washington Post Company 
 
 
     _________________________________________________________________ 
 

 
Date: Thu, 12 Sep 1996 12:58:57 -0400 
From: "Evan N. Reilly"  
Subject: Re: Tributes to Bill Monroe 
 
On Thu, 12 Sep 1996, Gerry Katz wrote: 
 
> I would also like a listing of tribute songs to Mr. Monroe. 
 
One of the best 'tribute' songs to Bill was written by Tom Ewing, lead 
singer/guitar man with the BGB until Bill's infirmity more or less ended 
the BGB. 
 
The song is 'Take Me Home' and Tom performed the song twice, with the 
Warrior River Boys, over Labor Day weekend at Thomas Point. 
When Tom performed it, he asked the audience to send their thoughts to 
Bill, who needed all our spiritual support. 
It is a real beautiful tribute to Bill from a great songwriter who has the 
perspective of having played alongside Bill for over a decade. 
Tom is also the writer of the historical column in BU, so he certainly 
knows the character of Bill and the music.  The song is included on Tom's 
CD and an earlier tape project of the same name. 
 
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
Evan N. Reilly, Melrose, MA USA 
ereilly@world.std.com 
http://world.std.com/~ereilly 
 
Date: Fri, 13 Sep 1996 21:42:20 -0400 
From: Udmacon@AOL.COM 
Subject: For the Record 
 
"OUR GURU IS GONE": Father of Bluegrass wrote song for Oswego County 
 
--by Mark Bialczak, Syracuse Newspapers "CNY" section, 10 Sep 1996 
(excerpted) 
 
Bill Knowlton vividly recalls sitting in the presence of bluegrass music's 
Daddy a decade ago in the dressing room of the Three Rivers Inn. "Bill
Monroe was noodling around on his mandolin and he composed a tune then and
there," said Knowlton, the longtime host of the Sunday night radio show
"Bluegrass Ramble" on WCNY-FM. "He asked the name of the area he was in.
'Oswego County' somebody told him. He said 'this is the Oswego County
Blues.'" During the show somebody yelled out 'do the Oswego County Blues,
and he played it right off, even though he'd just written it an hour
earlier", Knowlton said. 
 
Monroe died Monday. He would have turned 85 years old on Friday.  Knowlton
said he had just purchased a birthday card and was about to send it to
Monroe at his nursing home in Springfield, Tenn. where the musician had 
resided since suffering a stroke earlier this year. 
 
Knowlton had visited Monroe there in july. "At that point, he was in his 
bathrobe, sitting in a wheelchair. He appeared to be very depressed," 
Knowlton said. "A therapist was playing his old records on a CD player, 
trying to get his attention." 
 
"I knew he'd never play again, but I hoped he could attend functions where
we could announce his presence, and he'd wave", said Knowlton, a popular
master of ceremonies at bluegrass festivals throughout the Northeast (he
said it, I didn't--BK). 
 
Next Monday would have been the 50th anniversary of Monroe's recording with
Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs that started the string music style to become 
known as bluegrass. The genre name was derived from Monroe's band, which
went by the name of Bill Monroe & his Blue Grass Boys. "People would say,
'you play like Bill Monroe. You play bluegrass'", Knowlton said. 
 
"You know, this is the only form of American music where, not only was the 
founder still alive, but up to March, he was still creating," Knowlon said.

"It's like our guru is gone. 
 
"If you were an opera lover," Knowlton said, "this would be the equivalent
of Verdi dying." 
***************************************************************************

I was interviewed 15 minutes after I heard that Bill had died. I told the 
writer that I was in a daze and was giving him sort of a stream of 
consciousness. I think Mark did well; another newspaper tribute to Big Mon. 

BILL KNOWLTON, "BLUEGRASS RAMBLE": WCNY-FM: SYRACUSE, UTICA, WATERTOWN NY, 
looking forward to Sunday and WWVA legend Lee Moore, at the Del-Se-Nango 
Music Haven, McDonough NY (near Cortland), at 2 p.m. Sadly, it looks like
one of a series of farewell appearances.... 
 

 
Date: Fri, 13 Sep 1996 21:22:21 -0400 
From: rossi@TOGETHER.NET 
Subject: Remembering Bill Monroe 
 
Everyone seems to have some wonderful memories of Monroe and I've really 
loved seeing them on the list.  It gives me a broader understanding of the 
man.  Here's my reminiscence: 
 
When I was just a few years into playing bluegrass, I had only seen Bill 
Monroe at a distance (concerts, a few festivals), but had never met him. 
So I knew only the persona he projected on stage: imperious, forbidding,
and most definitely in charge. 
 
Then in 1967 (I think it was) when bluegrass was at a pretty low point and 
he was having a tough time making a living as a touring musician, he came
to Boston to open for Buck Owens at the old Symphony Theatre (now long
gone, a victim of urban renewal) on Massachusetts Avenue.  Buck Owens was
pretty hot stuff at the time, riding high on the country charts, so this
was a real opportunity for Monroe to expose his music to a wider audience
in a metropolitan area. 
 
My roommate and I (both rabid BG fanatics) volunteered to coordinate Bill's
visit, guide the bus through Boston traffic, etc.  This got us entrance to 
the show, which we could not have afforded otherwise.  Bill, when he phoned
before the gig, was obviously looking to cut expenses so when we
tentatively invited him and the band to come for dinner, he accepted
graciously. Several memories stand out about that visit. 
 
Bill arrived in his bus in mid-afternoon, parking it outside on the street 
in Cambridge where it drew more than the usual number of stares.  After he 
came in and sat down, his eyes were drawn to a wooden model of an old, 
team-drawn wagon that my roommate kept on the mantelpiece.  Bill wandered 
over and picked it up and started reminiscing about driving just such a 
wagon with his Uncle Pen when he was a boy.  That was a moment that made me
realize, "Man, that wasn't just a song about a fictional character; Uncle 
Pen was REAL!"  He started giving us lessons on the proper way to hitch up
a team to the wagon, telling us the names of each of the parts of the
hitch. 
 
About that time, the phone rings.  It's a guitar-playing friend, also a 
bluegrass fan.  He says, "Hey, what's up?"  I say, in my most offhand tone 
of voice, "Oh, nothing much, just sitting around chatting with Bill
Monroe." Long pause, then a dial tone. 
 
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings and there's my friend and a couple of
others, instrument cases in hand, as if they had just been in the 
neighborhood and had decided to drop in and play a few tunes.  Spake they, 
"Oh, sorry, didn't know you had company." (Right!) 
 
Monroe, ever polite, says hello and asks if they play string music, and why
don't they play a tune or two for him.  Instruments out of cases in record 
time.  They played a few fiddle tunes and get a nice compliment from Monroe
and walk out of the building, feet six inches off the ground. 
 
Dinnertime is called, and we all sit down at the table.  Monroe announces 
that he'll give the thanks and says a brief prayer.  Then he puts the
napkin in his lap and asks what we're having for dinner.  My roommate's
girlfriend, who's been slaving in the kitchen most of the afternoon, says,
"Veal." 
 
Bill pauses and says, "You know, I hardly ever eat veal.  I could never 
stand to hear the calves cry as they were killed."  (Ethical reservations 
notwithstanding, he finishes the meal with compliments to all involved.) 
 
A final coda to this story:  We get him to the concert and his driver 
maneuvers his bus into the narrow alley beside the theatre.  They dress and
while they're warming up Buck Owens' bus pulls in front of them. 
 
Bill does a solid, well-received opening set and packs up, and they realize
that they're hemmed in by Buck's bus.  They've got to drive all night to
get to their next gig and they need to get started right away. 
As Buck Owens is wailing away on stage, I go find the promoter and ask if
he can get Buck's driver to move the bus so Bill's can get out and on its
way. The promoter looks at me like I'm from another planet and says, "You
want ME to get BUCK OWENS' bus to move so a nobody like Bill Monroe can get
his bus out?  He can just wait till Buck Owens is damned good and ready to
move his bus.  Get out of my sight."  This guy measures somebodies by the
number of rhinestones they have on their suit. 
 
I tempered the message when I reported back to Monroe, saying something
like they couldn't find the driver because I sure didn't want to say that
to his face. 
 
   --- Neil Rossi 
 
 
Date: Fri, 13 Sep 1996 18:17:50 -0500 
From: Mark Klan  
Subject: Sam Venable Column on Bill Monroe 
 
Sam Venable had an extraordinary column in the Knoxville News-Sentinel a 
couple of days ago -- "An Unforgettable Minute in the Life of Bill Monroe",
concerning an old woman who traveled far to see Bill perform at the Museum 
of Appalachia's Fall Homecoming a few years ago. 
 
You can read it at: 
http://www.knoxnews.com/features/venable/archives/sv091296.html 
 
Mark 
markklan@1stresource.com 
 

Date: Fri, 13 Sep 1996 12:37:57 -0400 
From: Udmacon@AOL.COM 
Subject: R.I.P/Happy Birthday! 
 
         WILLIAM SMITH MONROE: Born Sept 13th 1911 
          Brought home to Rosine forever yesterday. 
          "Gone but not forgotten....We'll meet again someday" 
            Still sad, Bill Knowlton 


Date: Tue, 10 Sep 1996 21:21:00 -0600
From: Maurice Crouse 
Subject: Memphis coverage of Bill Monroe's death

In an area far removed from the hills (Memphis is at the WRONG end of
the state), it seemed likely that the newspaper would take little
notice of Bill Monroe's passing.  But, to my surprise, it made the
front page, possibly because of the Elvis connection -- one of the
first songs that Elvis recorded was "Blue Moon of Kentucky" in the
fast 4/4 version that Bill later used himself, and which it seems
traditional for bluegrass bands to jump into after a verse and chorus
of the slow 3/4 version.  Still, it was pretty good coverage, and I
was pleased that the music critic of the _Commercial Appeal_ knew
enough about Bill Monroe to write the article.


========================================================================
  Maurice Crouse, Department of History, Mitchell Hall 103            
                  The University of Memphis, Memphis, TN 38152  
========================================================================
Date: Tue, 17 Sep 1996 22:21:06 CST 
From: mary.yeomans@MCMAIL.VANDERBILT.EDU 
Reply to: "Bluegrass music discussion."  
To: Multiple recipients of list BGRASS-L  
Subject: Tears Fell on Rosine 
 
     There just never seems to be enough time to do all you would like to; 
     all those little things that mean so much to those around you; all the
     good intentions that never get acted upon.  To have meaningful 
     conversations with all the people you want to at a gathering such as 
     the IBMA or, in this case, at the funeral of Bill Monroe in Rosine, 
     Kentucky, on Thursday, September 12, 1996, just one day shy of what 
     would've been his 85th birthday. 
 
     With a heavy heart I left Nashville in the morning after working a few
     hours, hoping to arrive in Rosine early enough to make some 
     photographs of the folks I knew would be gathered outside the little 
     white country churchhouse, hoping to visit with some friends. 
 
     It was a gorgeous sunny morning in Tennessee, a beautiful day to be 
     out on the road, windows rolled down, "Kentucky Mandolin," "Jerusalem 
     Ridge," "The First Whippoorwill" and, yes, "My Last Days on Earth", 
     fortifying me as each moment brought me closer to my last glimpse of 
     the man I saw as a pioneer, and counted among my dear friends, a man 
     who had paid his dues, lived a good long life, had resolved his 
     quarrels, and was finally ready for that better life. 
 
     I felt so strange.  There was the overwhelming sense of loss, the 
     feeling that things would never again be quite the same, yet there was
     a feeling of peace and quiet, too.  I found my appreciation for the 
     man and his music had actually grown more intense with his death; I'd 
     spent the past several days, late into the night, listening only to 
     the music of Bill Monroe, true life music, white man's blues.  In the 
     rare moments when I wasn't listening to Bill, I was thinking about 
     him, reliving precious moments frozen in time, or I was talking with 
     friends about him, or e-mailing people I'd never met, whose voices and
     faces I wouldn't recognize, acquaintances who'd reached out to me 
     through BGRASS-L, something that might never have existed if Bill 
     Monroe had not been born in 1911 to J.B. and Malissa Monroe in 
     Kentucky, if he hadn't been a cross-eyed child who felt rejected and 
     hid in the barn when company came to the house.  If he hadn't been the
     man who persevered against all odds to become the legend we all miss 
     so much.  If he hadn't been the man who never quite believed in his 
     worth, who always seemed to need to prove himself, his strength, his 
     power, his endurance.  The man who pushed himself to greater 
     accomplishments, a real-life inspiration. 
 
     What if he'd been born in India or Africa?  Would there have been 
     bluegrass as we know it today?  Would Jerusalem Ridge have been 
     written?  What if Bill had not had such a commitment to his vision of 
     what the bluegrass music should be, how the instruments should sound, 
     how the parts should be sung?  What if he hadn't insisted it be done 
     over and over until it was right?  What if he'd succumbed to rock and 
     roll and turned his back on old-time music and the blues, two of his 
     greatest musical influences?  Bill gave his life, his energy, his body
     and soul to keep the bluegrass music alive, and at a tremendous cost 
     to him and to his family.  It is my belief that there are no 
     coincidences, and that all these things occurred because it was the 
     time and the place, the destiny of Mr. Monroe, to do just exactly as 
     he did; to unite us in a music we love so dearly. 
 
     Not that Bill was solely responsible for what has brought us to this 
     forum, but, as so many have said, if it weren't for bluegrass, what 
     would we be doing with all our vacation time?  Who would our friends 
     be?  I doubt I'd have friends in Japan, the Czech Republic, and 
     Russia.  Friends in virtually all of the United States. 
 
     Anyway, my thoughts on the way to Rosine were strange and wonderful, 
     sad and happy all at the same time; the music I'd been listening to 
     for so many years had a new meaning for me; I think I was just 
     listening much more closely than I ever had before; and it was as if 
     I'd never heard it.  I found my admiration for the man I'd called 
     friend growing exponentially as I listened to the lyrics he'd penned, 
     to the lonesome tunes he'd written, while my eyes perceived the 
     territory he'd often traveled by horse or mule, hauling railroad ties 
     or going to play at a dance with Uncle Pen. 
 
     It's only about 40 miles from Nashville to the Kentucky border.  In 
     that span, the day went from radiant sunshine to cloudy and overcast. 
     In Kentucky, it seemed that all the clouds were gathering and moving 
     together in the same direction as you and I...toward Rosine.  Soon 
     there was a strange light in the darkness of the day, an occasional 
     ray of sunshine finding it's way through the dark, thick, stormy sky. 
     It seemed like a gospel kind of day to me; I wanted to sing and shout,
     I wanted to cry.  It was my need to drive the distance alone, with 
     only my thoughts and the music of Bill Monroe as my company; it felt 
     so right that way. 
 
     Approaching Hartford, Kentucky, just 10 miles down the road from 
     Rosine, a soft, light rain began to fall, I thought, like the 
     teardrops rolling down my face as I listened to Mr. Monroe singing 
     Kentucky Waltz, cloud drops were falling down my window.  It seemed 
     fitting that the clouds, surrounding the hills and hollers Mr. Bill 
     loved so well and immortalized in song that they would live forever in
     our hearts, had been gathered together over the little community 
     churchhouse, watching over the friends and family clustered there, 
     shedding their own tears at this bittersweet goodbye. 
 
     Arriving in Rosine 30 minutes before the service, I started seeing 
     longtime friends.  Though it had clearly been raining in Rosine, the 
     sun was starting to peep through, creating a warm light; the sky was 
     smiling as I walked toward the little Methodist Church and the kindred
     spirits congregated there, talking quietly.  There were cars 
     everywhere, TV cameras, reporters with pads, pens and cameras running 
     about, people of all ages, Volvos and beatup pickup trucks parked 
     alongside each other. 
 
     A line of people moved solemnly up the steep church steps, stuffing 
     themselves through the narrow doors, signing the guest register, 
     standing patiently in line to catch a last glimpse, return a quarter 
     to Mr. Bill, say a prayer, to weep.  There wasn't time to linger, the 
     line advanced and moved out the back door.  The church was chockful of
     people; probably far more than it had ever welcomed on Easter Sunday. 
     The gaiety of Easter was absent; they all needed to be there. 
 
     The quarters had multiplied since yesterday's Ryman service, like the 
     loaves and fish?  Today there were two long and glistening rows of 
     quarters adorning the casket lid. While the Ryman service was done 
     with a closed casket, Mr. Bill was visible to those inside throughout 
     the country-style service. 
 
     There's no point in saying who was there; we were all there.  I saw 
     more bluegrass people there than at the Ryman, and also more people I 
     didn't know.  Lots of former Bluegrass Boys were there; Bill would've 
     liked that. 
 
     While the sanctuary was overflowing with people, many of whom stood 
     throughout the hour and a half service, there were three or four times
     as many people on the lawn behind and around the church listening via 
     speakers which had been placed there.  One policeman estimated 1,000 
     people attended Bill's funeral; another person reported 1,200. 
 
     The service began with Ricky Skaggs singing "Amazing Grace."  A woman 
     with a beautiful voice seated near me at the back of the church joined
     in, and soon many of us in the crowd became the choir and raised our 
     voices in memory of Mr. Monroe.  The final verse had two words, 
     "Praise God," and most present seemed to pick up on that verse rather 
     easily.  Maybe it was the stifling heat, maybe the sadness of the 
     moment, but a woman near me, face soaked with tears, left the building
     shortly after the service commenced. 
 
     Representatives of the State of Kentucky and Ohio County said a few 
     words and offered their sympathy.  The family were seated in the front
     of the church at a 90 degree angle to the crowd, the head of Bill's 
     casket just a couple of feet from their pew.  Somehow it seemed that 
     James and Jimbo were less distraught today, though it probably wasn't 
     so.  It was a hard time for them. 
 
     Ralph Stanley got up and sang one of my favorite Stanley numbers, "Two
     Coats" with Ricky playing mandolin and singing with him.  I will 
     forever associate this song with the last time I saw Bill, and love it
     even more than before.  A very emotional Ralph moved us all beyond 
     tears and beyond words with his heartfelt vocals. 
 
     Ricky then sang, "I Was Standing By the Bedside of A Neighbor."  Ricky
     broke down during the first couple verses, so emotional, at such a 
     loss, he could barely whisper the words through his sobs; it was the 
     time I've felt most in tune with Ricky in all these years; my spirit 
     was right there with him, my heart crying, urging him on. 
 
     A beautiful African-American woman named Alma Randolph from Ohio 
     County, KY, blessed with a sweet,soothing, uplifting voice, sang "Take
     My Hand Precious Lord," and I felt that Bill would've really liked 
     that.  It certainly wasn't bluegrass or blues style, but with the 
     tremendous influence of Arnold Schultz always so evident in Bill's 
     music, it seemed right that she would be such a wonderful part of the 
     service, of the circle of life present there. 
 
     Various Bluegrass Boys got up, led by Wayne Lewis, with Art Stamper 
     and Robert Bowlen on fiddle, Dana Cupp on banjo, Skaggs singing tenor,
     and Wayne on guitar and did "The Little Community Churchhouse."  Del 
     McCoury then sang "The Old Crossroads" with Ricky and others. 
 
     The Bluegrass Boys were then recognized: ome of the Bluegrass Boys in 
     attendance (my advance apologies, I'm sure there were many there whom 
     I did not recognize):  Dana Cupp, Robert Bowlen, Jimmy Campbell, Billy
     Rose, Doug Hutchens, Butch Robins, Ralph Lewis, Buck White, Glen 
     Duncan, Wayne Lewis, Del McCoury (and Ronnie), Sandy Rothman, Lamar 
     Grier, Kenny Baker, Bob Black, RC Harris, David Deas, Tater Tate, Guy 
     Stephenson.  Undoubtedly a few who were present went unnoticed, no 
     slight intended. 
 
     "I Saw the Light" sung by Carlos (Brock?) was next, followed by 
     "Life's Railway to Heaven", sung by Dan Jones.  Doug Hutchens was then
     introduced.  A very emotional Wayne Lewis, voice cracking, pausing 
     every few words to take a breath, fighting his grief, then announced 
     that Doug Hutchens had documented 175 full-time Bluegrass Boys, people
     who had worked with Bill on a regular basis over a period of 
     time...trying to follow in his footsteps. 
 
     Wayne Lewis came up to sing and said, "This is probably the second 
     hardest time it's ever been for me to sing this song; the first time 
     was when I sang this at Jimmie Skinner's funeral, and I thought 
     probably that was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life, but this
     time might prove to be harder".  He then asked everyone to join in and
     sing "Precious Memories" with him.  He said Bill always liked for the 
     people to join in and sing it with them at the festivals.  Everyone 
     then wholeheartedly sang the choruses. 
 
     James Monroe got up and said a few words about his father.  He said 
     "he had friends all over the world...they came from all over the 
     country to the Ryman yesterday...he's here with us today; he's looking
     at us and hears us; and I think he appreciates every one of you folks;
     good singers here, some of the best in the country; I know he's in a 
     better place." 
 
     Several Opry members were present; Skeeter Davis - she said that 
     through the years she always had such a love and attachment to Mr. 
     Monroe; was so impressed with him.  :What a testimony he's left 
     behind."  She mentioned Ricky, Vince, and all the Bluegrass Boys and 
     all he'd given them and left behind for them; she said "what a big 
     birthday party there'll be in heaven for Bill tomorrow while he 
     celebrates with Jesus and Minnie and Roy.  We love you Bill, happy 
     birthday in heaven!" 
 
     Tammy Sullivan then said, "I can't really tell him goodbye, James, I 
     just have to say good night.  I have had many occasions to talk with 
     Bill about the Lord, shared many wonderful experiences with him.  He 
     was a man who loved his friends, he loved everybody but more than 
     that, he loved the Lord.  I feel that today he's looking down on us 
     all, he sees us all and he hears us all, but there is rejoicing in 
     heaven because one more has entered, and he'll be playing that 
     mandolin and he'll be walking the streets of gold and he'll be waiting
     for all of us." 
 
     Several other colleagues got up and said a few words about Bill. 
     Bobby Osborne got up and said,"There's so many things I could say 
     about Bill Monroe, it would probably take me 3 or 4 days to tell you 
     all of it.  I never was a Bluegrass Boy, not because I didn't want to 
     be, but I always sang the same part that he did, and played the same 
     instrument.  He and I both knew that there wasn't room for two of us 
     in the same band." "The last 15 or 20 years Sonny and I have been very
     very close to Mr. Monroe.  We have shared the same dressing room with 
     Bill Monroe and the Bluegrass Boys and Jim and Jesse...and I want to 
     say once again that I am so thankful that I lived in the days of Bill 
     Monroe." 
 
     Alma Randolph then sang a very beautiful song, "Don't Cry for Me." 
     Here are some of the words, a beautiful message: 
 
     "Here were are again, that old familiar place, when the wind will 
     blow, noone ever knows the time or the place" 
 
     "Don't cry for me, don't shed a tear, the time I spent with you will 
     always be, and now that I am gone, I want you to carry on, but don't 
     cry for me"... 
 
     "Noone is to blame, my death was meant to be, don't you carry guilt or
     shame, the reason why I came soon you will all see...Chorus:  don't 
     cry for me". 
 
     Disobedient souls that we are, everyone cried. 
 
     Preacher Baggett, pastor at James Monroe's Assembly of God church in 
     Goodlettsville, then gave a lengthy sermon in the sweltering heat. 
     The service finally drew to a grateful close. 
 
     It seemed that the crowd had grown exponentially since I'd last felt 
     the fresh, cool air of Rosine on my face.  Everywhere the eye could 
     see were upturned faces of all ages, awaiting the appearance of the 
     procession of pallbearers carrying Bill Monroe home.  The seconds 
     ticked slowly by as we all waited for them to arrive, carrying our 
     beloved leader down his final flight of steps to the long black 
     limousine which waited quietly to transport him to his final resting 
     place.  The casket lifted into the vehicle, the door closed, the crowd
     of friends, and bluegrass boys, neighbors, and the curious all made 
     their way up the road, just a short distance from the lonesome old 
     cemetery to the newly-dug grave which waited to hold the remains of 
     our father, our grandfather, our friend, our mentor, our Bill Monroe. 
 
     The flowers everywhere.  Lots of roses.  The large white clouds, the 
     fall blue sky.  The sun.  Alma Randolph began to sing, "the sun shines
     bright on my old Kentucky home...weep no more my lady, oh, weep no 
     more today, we will sing one song for our old Kentucky home, for our 
     old Kentucky home faraway."  Lonesome.  Together.  Sobbing.  Touching.

     Ricky and Ralph sang the Stanley number, Gloryland, the chorus of 
     which is, "Weep not friends I'm going home...up there we'll die no 
     more...no coffins will be made up there, no graves on that bright 
     shore." 
 
     Ralph and Ricky then led us in "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," some 
     silence, then a spontaneous "Blue Moon of Kentucky" was softly sung. A
     prayer.  The crowd moved slowly.  The tent surrounding the grave was 
     peeled away, light shining on the small box that contained the earthly
     remains of the larger-than-life man, Bill Monroe. 
 
     Jimbo Monroe later told me that before the casket was lowered, Ralph 
     Stanley put his hand on Bill's casket and said, "We'll meet again 
     someday."  He turned to Jimbo and told him that Bill had been at 
     Carter's funeral and had gone to Carter's casket and said, "We'll meet
     again someday."  It meant alot to me. 
 
     Two men with shovels began do the job some of us couldn't bear to 
     observe; others chose to add a handful or two to the grave.  Many 
     picked up a rock-like hunk of clay from the graveside to carry home 
     with them.  I could imagine the stories they might tell to their 
     children or their grandchildren...stories of a great man, the man who 
     was so powerful, the man who was so real, so close to the earth, as 
     one with the soil, the trees, the creatures, the little children. 
 
     What would I tell people one day, maybe not so far off, when they 
     would stand breathlessly, holding on to every word, as I told of 
     seeing Mr. Bill Monroe on stage, how he always looked so much bigger 
     than he really was when he was in front of a crowd, of hearing him 
     play Dusty Miller, sing Body and Soul or Close By or Kentucky Waltz, 
     watching him dance with Emmylou, what would I tell them?  Could they 
     possibly understand what that meant to me, to all of us?  How could 
     they ever know what a force he was, how he had more presence than a 
     roomful of rich, well-educated men?  How to put into words what I'm 
     having such a difficult time feeling?  I'm trying and I'm crying.  How
     to type from memory because your eyes are too blurred to see the 
     letters on the keys? 
 
     Bluegrass Boys reunion photo by the statue of Uncle Pen.  Many hugs, 
     fellowship, silence.  The wind blowing, warm and soft on that old 
     cemetery mound.  As the sun set, as the last goodbye was said, the 
     road back out of Rosine seemed so different than the one I'd drove in 
     on.  A peace.  I turned on my tape player and then, as I drove past 
     the house where Charlie Monroe had lived, a house just a half mile or 
     so below the house where JB and Malissa and Bill and all the Monroe 
     kids had been raised, I swear to God, "My Last Days on Earth" began to
     play.  It was meant to be that way. 
 
     Goodbye, Mr. Bill.  Goodnight.  Rest in peace.  We love you. We'll 
     meet again someday.