My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best string
instrument players in our town. He could not read music, but if he heard a
tune a few times, he could play it. When he was younger, he was a member of
a small country music band. They would play at local dances and on a few
occasions would play for the local radio station. He often told us how he
had 2)auditioned and earned a position in a band that featured Patsy Cline
as their lead singer. He told the family that after he was hired he never
went back. Dad was a very religious man. He stated that there was a lot of
drinking and cursing the day of his audition and he did not want to be around
that type of environment.
Occasionally, Dad would get out his mandolin and play for the family. We three
children: Trisha, Monte and I, George Jr., would often sing along. Songs such
as the Tennessee Waltz, Harbor Lights and around Christmas time, the well-known
3)rendition of Silver Bells. "Silver Bells, Silver Bells, its Christmas time in
the city" would ring throughout the house. One of Dad's favorite 4)hymns was
"The Old Rugged Cross". We learned the words to the hymn when we were very
young, and would sing it with Dad when he would play and sing. Another song
that was often shared in our house was a song that accompanied the Walt Disney
series: Davey Crockett. Dad only had to hear the song twice before he learned
it well enough to play it. "Davey, Davey Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier"
was a favorite song for the family. He knew we enjoyed the song and the program
and would often get out the mandolin after the program was over. I could never
get over how he could play the songs so well after only hearing them a few
times. I loved to sing, but I never learned how to play the mandolin. This is
something I regret to this day.
Dad loved to play the mandolin for his family he knew we enjoyed singing, and
hearing him play. He was like that. If he could give pleasure to others, he would,
especially his family. He was always there, sacrificing his time and efforts
to see that his family had enough in their life. I had to mature into a man and
have children of my own before I realized how much he had sacrificed.
I joined the United States Air Force in January of 1962. Whenever I would come
home on leave, I would ask Dad to play the mandolin. Nobody played the mandolin
like my father. He could touch your soul with the tones that came out of that
old mandolin. He seemed to shine when he was playing. You could see his pride i
n his ability to play so well for his family.
When Dad was younger, he worked for his father on the farm. His father was a
farmer and 5)sharecropped a farm for the man who owned the property. In 1950,
our family moved from the farm. Dad had gained employment at the local 6)limestone 7
)quarry. When the quarry closed in August of 1957, he had to seek other employment
. He worked for Owens Yacht Company in Dundalk, Maryland and for Todd Steel in
Point of Rocks, Maryland. While working at Todd Steel, he was involved in an
accident. His job was to roll angle
iron onto a 8)conveyor so that the 9)welders farther up the production line
would have it to complete their job. On this particular day Dad got the third
index finger of his left hand mashed between two pieces of steel. The doctor
who operated on the finger could not save it, and Dad ended up having the tip
of the finger 10)amputated. He didn't lose enough of the finger where it would
stop him picking up anything, but it did impact his ability to play the mandolin.
After the accident, Dad was reluctant to play the mandolin. He felt that he
could not play as well as he had before the accident. When I came home on leave
and asked him to play he would make excuses for why he couldn't play. Eventually,
we would 11)wear him down and he would say "Okay, but remember, I can't hold down
on the strings the way I used to" or "Since the accident to this finger I can't
play as good". For the family it didn't make any difference that Dad couldn't play
as well. We were just glad that he would play. When he played the old mandolin it
would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time in our lives. "Davey, Davey
Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier", would again be heard in the little town of
Bakerton, West Virginia.