They say you can’t dance in Pound, VA. It’s against the law…really.
At least that’s the story I heard from several sources about this little town in Southwest Virginia. I had mentioned it to a few friends prior to our show with Reagan Boggs and it’s true. There’s a law in Pound, VA that you can’t dance in public!
If you don’t believe me, check out Lewis Loflin’s local rant on the Appalachian mountains and as nutty as it sounds…here’s the details.
Nevertheless, I was looking forward to this show for several weeks. It was Christmas and we were playing at an annual gathering at a bar Reagan’s mother runs called – The CandleLight Restaurant…
It sounds like a romantic place to have dinner and although they do serve food (a buffet was in order tonight), The Candlelight is an American Legion post that serves plenty of barley pops and hosts some serious pool tournaments from time to time. Reagan plays this gig every year and a holiday reunion was exciting as we begin to support her new album.
I was a crisp cold December day and a bright blue sky gave way to a memorable full moonrise as the night orb rose from the cradle of Powell Mountain, just outside Big Stone Gap on I-26. The moon was a dull yellow beyond a bank of steely gun-metal clouds and I could barely pay attention to the rode as I drove North (our farthest Northern gig yet) to the little town of Pound.
A small, curvy two-lane road broke off the Interstate and meandered into the ‘business district’ and nestled on the left of the highway, The Candlelight is the first beer joint coming into town. Some say, it’s the first one over the line from the dry counties just outside Jenkins, Kentucky.
The parking lot was a narrow gravel easement outside a building that was a little bit larger than a double-wide. As I opened the door to the breezeway, a plastic Santa Clause was glowing an aged amber and he was jerking in mechanized dance that seemed to line up with the Christmas song that played from his mechanics. When I opened the door, banging it with a large keyboard case, everyone seemed to stop mid-sentence and look around at my entrance.
Not that there was anything unusual to see, but the bar at this restaurant runs left to right of either side of the front door and anytime someone comes in from the busy road out front, all heads turn to see who’s coming in. Reagan’s mom, Nita was behind the counter with her brother, Wesley smiled as I came in the door with a handful of gear.
Nita Boggs stands a little over five feet tall, but don’t let her stature lull you into thinking about a helpless woman. She’s been running The Candlelight for eight years now. She left an alcoholic husband many years ago too – a single mother who raised three kids on her own and has a plenty family, friends and patrons who call the Candlelight home away from home.
Reagan’s brother is is still trying to establish himself as a musician too. Right now, he seems somewhere between hard rock and mountain folk and tonight he was excited about singing the Carter/Cash song Jackson with her sister. As I was loading my gear into the narrow doorway, I caught them both – brother and sister listening to a cassette in a car in the parking lot. I smiled too because this was shaping up to be the perfect family affair.
Inside the bar, there were 4 pool tables, a long bar and a handful of tables in front and on the sides. The band was set up to the left. Earlier in the day, they had moved out the big screen and there was just enough room to slide all of our gear into the corner for this annual party.
It was a small cozy corner and as the keyboard player with a 88 note piano and a Hammond organ, I’m almost as much trouble as the drummer :). I sat up on stage right and had no more than 8 feet of access to both restrooms. I imagined that people filing out of the john would at least catch a glimpse of my perspective that night as my keys were angled out past the door and right in the middle of both restrooms….a pay phone. That plays out a little later.
As I was setting my rig up, there was another one of those barroom vagabonds that had way too much to drink prior to our meeting. He seemed all too eager to tell me about a court case where he is answering to 8 charges next Tuesday. The amount of alcohol and his crisis combined for a lot of sloppy spit projectiles as I tried to listen to him and like most drunks, we seemed to want to extend the story despite my own lack of interest.
One of the most exciting and memorable events this evening was Kevin Jackson. Kevin is a fiddle player that plays with Jason Crawford in the bluegrass quartet, Leisure Time. I saw him a few months ago playing guitar at The Woodstone Deli, backup up Glen Harlow. Jason was playing another gig in Pigeon Forge with Trey Hensley, so Kevin was subbing for Jason.
I love playing with a fiddle player. Playing with rhythmic string players are great, but a violin (fiddle) is a soaring melodic relief and it made the music sing. I had played with Goose Creek’s Symphony fiddler player (Jon) last year at The Sophisticated Otter and was inspired at that time too, but Kevin has a great sense of harmony and melody and is a supreme player. I can hardly wait ti gig with him again.
Kevin’s a funny guy too. We had set up our gear and were having a few beers and looking down at the other end of the bar was an older woman with hair that was permanently dyed black and her aging face and the cheesy holiday getup made her stand out like a lamp-post. Kevin’s comment – “”she looks like death sucking on a lifesaver.” I laughed so hard it was embarrassing, but he was right.
Our set tonight was a lot of fun. Alan was playing his drums with a life-size Miller calendar girl behind him and her breasts made a great cap for his head as he did a good job keeping the band together. Kevin and Greg Smith were tucked away in their amp corner to the left of the stage. Me and Kevin were on the right (near the can) and Reagan and her brother did a great job singing ‘Jackson’ before a crowd of friends and family who seemed to enjoy the night completely.
Oh. Before I forget. Several people were dancing. I love it when people challenge authority!
Now that dang phone kept ringing through the night. In between songs, it would ring and just as I had a solo to play the loud ringer kept sidetracking my thoughts. Reagan’s mother and brother kept taking the phone off the hook, but someone would politely put it back on after they used it to call out. It was actually quite odd to hear and watch a pay phone used so much in our cell phone culture, but the device had lots of activity.
We performed a couple of really long sets and last call was close to midnight. It didn’t take long to tear the gear down and just before I left, the phone rang. Noone was around so I answered the call. On the other end was a frantic country girl who was looking for ‘Beaver.’ Now I came to find out later that a lot of folks in this part of the country go by a nickname, but I couldn’t help but yell out into the bar that night – Is there a Beaver in the house? For some reason that seemed funny to me and everyone else who knew no idea what I was talking about. Of course, Kevin and I both had our own ideas.
It was good this was a short night too. The 12.00 curfew allowed me to pack and I was back home sometime close to 1.30am and ready to travel to another Southwest Virginia gig the next day in Rural Retreat.