Featuring Jack Lawrence Sam Bush Peter Rowan Jim Gavenus and more Doc's Issue Display until 3/1/25 $10.95
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On the Cover: Doc Watson plays on the Cabin Stage. Throughout this issue, Jim Gavenus gives us an in depth look at Doc.
4 "When Doc played, it wasn’t just about the notes; it was about the stories and the heart behind them. He had a way of making everyone feel like they were part of something bigger." — Jean Ritchie Photo by Jim Gavenus "Doc had this quiet power about him. He never played to show off, but every note he picked showed you just how much soul he carried in his heart." — David Holt "Without Doc Watson, I don’t think bluegrass guitar would be what it is today. He was a pioneer, and he made us all want to be better." — Tony Rice "Doc Watson is a powerful influence on just about everyone who's ever heard him. He's a great guitar player, a great singer, and a great person." — Bob Dylan "Doc Watson is one of the greatest guitarists of all time. His playing is clean, soulful, and always inspiring." — Chet Atkins "Doc's music is a cornerstone of American traditional music. He set a standard that musicians still strive to meet." — Ricky Skaggs "Doc Watson's influence transcends genres. His approach to music is something all musicians can learn from." — Béla Fleck "Doc Watson’s music is a national treasure. He brought the spirit of Appalachia to the world, and in doing so, he reminded us all of the beauty and strength of our shared heritage." — Bill Clinton "Doc Watson's music has enriched the lives of countless Americans. His dedication to preserving traditional music is commendable." — Jimmy Carter "Doc Watson was a bridge between the old and the new, bringing traditional music to modern audiences with grace and authenticity." — Ketch Secor "Playing with Doc was like a masterclass in musicianship. His understanding of music was profound." — Taj Mahal "Doc had a way of making every song his own, infusing it with his unique style and heartfelt emotion." — Norman Blake "Doc Watson set the bar high for all of us. His influence is immeasurable." — Sam Bush
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6 foothills Digest 3838 Cleary Rd Laurel Springs, NC 28644 Issue #27 2024 Phone: 828.475.1323 E-mail: [email protected] Website: foothillsdigest.com Stock by Adobe Stock Created using Adobe Suite Edited with the assistance of Open AI PRINTED IN USA PARTNER COMPANY: ECKARD PHOTOGRAPHIC CARMEN ECKARD Editor in Chief Author, unless otherwise noted JON ECKARD Principal Photographer JOEY OSBORNE Partner SPECIAL THANKS: Jim Gavenus, Michael Freas
7 Dear Readers, I've always thought that North Carolina looks like a Bob Timberlake painting and sounds like a Doc Watson song. It’s my great honor to present you with an entire issue dedicated to Doc Watson. It would be impossible to overstate his importance in the world of traditional music, in western North Carolina, and throughout all of southern Appalachia. Doc was more than just a talented musician—he was a master of his craft, blending flatpicking, fingerpicking, and pure storytelling into a sound that is unmistakably his own. His music is woven into the fabric of our region, and his influence stretches far beyond the mountains he called home. Throughout my life, I’ve been fortunate to work in some really cool jobs, but one of my favorites was working backstage at Farthing Auditorium in Boone. My usual job was in lighting, but when Doc Watson played a two-day show, I had the honor of making sure he had everything he needed backstage. At the time, I was just a dumb kid whose musical taste ranged from Britney Spears to Fleetwood Mac, and I didn’t fully grasp what a privilege it was to spend time with such a legend. As I’ve grown to appreciate his music and his lasting impact on western North Carolina, I wish I could go back to that conversation today. I’d have better questions, I’m sure. I hope you enjoy this issue as much as I’ve enjoyed putting it together. I’ve had the chance to chat with some true legends and hear stories about Doc that I’m excited to share with you now. Enjoy, and if you are at MerleFest (and you should be at MerleFest), be sure to stop by and say hi to me in the Shoppes area. Foothills Digest is thrilled to sponsor the festival, and we hope to continue being part of Doc Watson’s beautiful legacy.
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4 Quotes about Doc 7 Letter from the Editor 10 A Song for Every Page 12 Doc Wtason: A Timeless Voice 16 Jim Gavenus' Lens on Doc Watson 26 Strings and Shadows 34 Discography 38 Jack Lawrence 44 Sam Bush 48 B Townes 50 Peter Rowan 52 Mitch Greenhill 54 Jim Avett 56 The Kruger Brothers 58 Doc Watson and the Profile Trail 62 Pop Doc by Patrick Harris 64 Doc on the Map 66 Annual Festivals Honoring Doc 68 Photography by Willa Stein 72 MerleFest Featuring Michael Freas 90 Doc's Musical Legacy 108 Eddie Huffman's DocWatson: A Life inMusic 114 The First MerleFest Photo 115 Autograph Page Table of Contents Scan for information about our Advertisers. Foothills Digest is a proud sponsor of MerleFest, the Catawba Valley Pottery Festival, and the Smoky Mountain Blue Grass Festival.
10 A Song for Every Page 1 Doc's Guitar 2 St. James Hospital 3 In the Pines 4 Doc's Talking Blues 5 Look Down That Lonesome Road 6 My Dear Old Southern Home 7 Wayfaring Stranger 8 Gonna Lay Down my Old Guitar 9 Don't Tell Me Your Troubles 10 Life is Like a River 11 Deep River Blues 12 Tennessee Stud 13 Shady Grove 14 Summertime 15 Little Sadie 16 Nashville Blues 17 Muskrat 18 Sittin' On Top of the World 19 Salt Creek 20 Blackberry Blossom 21 Omie Wise 22 Columbus Stockade Blues 23 George Gudger’s Overalls 24 Alberta 25 The Coo Coo Bird 26 Corrina, Corrina 27 When Roses Bloom in Dixieland 28 Treasures Untold 29 Groundhog 30 Mama Don't Allow No Music 31 Feast Here Tonight 32 Peach Pickin' Time in Georgia 33 Will the Circle Be Unbroken 34 Sittin' Here Picking the Blues 35 The Last Thing on My Mind 36 On Praying Ground 37 The Train that Carried My Girl From Town 38 Windy and Warm 39 The Roving Gambler 40 Don't Think Twice, It's Alright 41 How Long Blues 42 Little Darlin’ Pal of Mine 43 Nights in White Satin 44 Rain Crow Bill 45 Banks of Ohio 46 Walk on Boy 47 Roll on Buddy, Roll On 48 Sing Song Kitty 49 I am a Pilgrim 50 Foggy Mountain Top
11 51 Dark Hollow Blues 52 Ol' Ruben 53 Country Blues 54 Roll in my Sweet Baby's Arms 55 Southbound 56 I'm Going Back to the Old Home 57 Black Mountain Rag 58 Blue Ridge Mountain Blues 59 Down in the Valley to Pray 60 The Greenback Dollar 61 Anniversary Blue Yodel 62 Dream of the Miner's Child 63 Little Margaret 64 Rising Son Blues 65 Milk Cow Blues 66 Blue Railroad Train 67 East Tennessee Blues 68 Billy in the Low Ground 69 Don't Let Your Deal Go Down 70 Cumberland Gap 71 I Was a Stranger 72 Wild Wood Flower 73 Blues in my Mind 74 Tom Dooley 75 Freight Train 76 Spike Driver's Blues 77 Wabash Cannonball 78 Going Down this Road Feeling Bad 79 Froggy Went a Courtin' 80 John Hardy 81 Alabama Jubilee 82 Beaumont Rag 83 Rambling Hobo 84 Ridin' That Midnight Train 85 Old Dan Tucker 86 What Does the Deep Sea Do? 87 Little Orphan Girl 88 Frankie and Johnny 89 Gambler's Yodel 90 Otto Wood the Bandit 91 House of the Rising Son 92 Deep Elem Blues 93 Poor Boy Blues 94 Talk about Suffering 95 Way Downtown 96 I Want to Love Him More 97 Darlin' Corey 98 Georgie 99 Storms are on the Ocean 100 Down the Road 101 Dixie 102 Georgia Buck 103 Matty Groves 104 I'm Troubled 105 I'm Going Fishing 106 Greenville Trestle High 107 White House Blues 108 Train Whistle Blues 109 Miss the Mississippi and You 110 Stack-o-Lee 111 Lynchburg Town 112 Call of the Road 113 Intoxicated Rat 114 Gypsy Davey 115 Turn the Lamps Down Low 116 Your Long Journey We don't expect you to read about a musical legend without listening to his legendary music. We've compiled a playlist of songs we love, one per page of this magazine. You can find the list using the QR code, or by visiting foothillsdigest. com/Doc. We've provided a list of the songs here. You can listen to the whole playlist in row, or select the songs that go with the pages you are reading. We hope this deepens your enjoyment of the magazine, and your understanding of Doc Watson!
Doc Watson: A Timeless Voice of Appalachia What does it mean to live a song? For Doc Watson, the answer was simple: every note, every lyric, and every story he played was infused with a piece of himself. Whether he was flatpicking his way through a traditional Appalachian tune or collaborating with icons of bluegrass and folk, Doc brought an authenticity to his music that few could match. With a guitar in his hands, he wasn’t just playing melodies—he was preserving a culture, building a bridge between the past and the present. But the journey of a blind boy from Deep Gap, North Carolina, to the pinnacle of American music wasn’t one of easy roads. It was a tale of resilience, innovation, and a little banjo made with the hide of an old family cat.
A Life Lived Through Music When Doc Watson sat down to play, something extraordinary happened. A man known for his humility, Doc could command an audience of thousands with just his voice and a guitar. He wasn’t flashy—his performances were stripped down, pure, and powerful. Audiences could feel the echoes of Appalachian mountains in his picking and the soul of gospel in his singing. Fellow musician Sam Bush once remarked, “He always knows the perfect notes,” but it wasn’t just the notes—it was the stories behind them. Doc’s philosophy was clear: “Keeping old songs alive isn’t just about the music; it’s about the stories and the people behind them.” This belief became the heartbeat of his music. Whether playing a tender ballad or a rollicking fiddle tune, Doc transported listeners to another time, a place where tradition and innovation walked hand in hand. From Street Corners to Center Stage Though he became a global ambassador for Appalachian music, Doc’s beginnings were humble. In the 1950s, he played street corners and amateur contests, earning his way one song at a time. His transition to professional musician was anything but glamorous—playing electric guitar in Jack Williams’ country and western band. But even then, Doc wasn’t afraid to innovate, adapting fiddle tunes to the electric guitar and breathing new life into old melodies. He called it “making the old new,” a mindset that would later define his career. It wasn’t until folklorist Ralph Rinzler discovered Doc in 1960 that the world began to take notice. Encouraged to trade his electric guitar for an acoustic, Doc stepped into the spotlight, bringing Appalachian music to national audiences. His debut at the Newport Folk Festival in 1963 wasn’t just a performance—it was a revelation. Suddenly, the acoustic guitar wasn’t just a rhythm instrument; in Doc’s hands, it became a lead voice, capable of astonishing virtuosity.
14 The Father-Son Duo That Defined an Era One of the most poignant chapters in Doc Watson’s career was his partnership with his son, Merle Watson. Beginning in 1964, the duo toured the country, recorded over 20 albums, and mesmerized audiences with their chemistry. Doc’s intricate flatpicking paired perfectly with Merle’s slide guitar and rhythm playing, creating a sound that was both timeless and innovative. Their collaboration came to a tragic end in 1985 when Merle died in a tractor accident. For Doc, the loss was immeasurable. Yet, from that grief came a beautiful legacy: MerleFest. Founded in 1988, the festival became a celebration of what Doc called “traditional plus” music—rooted in Appalachian traditions but open to influences far and wide. Today, MerleFest is one of the largest Americana festivals in the world, ensuring that the Watson family’s impact endures. "Just One of the People" Despite his fame, Doc Watson never let success go to his head. A life-size statue of him in Boone, North Carolina, bears the inscription, “Just One of the People,” a phrase that perfectly encapsulates his character. Whether performing with legends like Bill Monroe or chatting with fans after a show, Doc was known for his humility and generosity. Fellow musicians admired not just his technical brilliance but his willingness to share his knowledge. Doc’s collaborations were as varied as they were meaningful. From contributing to the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s Will the Circle Be Unbroken to working with David Grisman and Ricky Skaggs, Doc bridged generational and stylistic divides. His music wasn’t confined to any one box—it was a tapestry woven from folk, blues, gospel, and bluegrass, with a few threads of jazz and country stitched in for good measure. WPCC.EDU (828) 448-3500 1001 BURKEMONT AVE, MORGANTON Achieve Success! Experience the pioneering spirit that awaits you.
15 Legacy in Motion Doc Watson didn’t just preserve A p p a l a c h i a n t ra d i t i o n s — h e transformed them. His innovative approach to “traditional plus” music laid the foundation for the modern Americana movement. Artists like Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, and even generations of bluegrass pickers owe a debt to Doc’s trailblazing spirit. Over the course of his career, Doc received eight Grammy Awards, a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award, and the National Medal of Arts, presented to him in 1997 by President Bill Clinton. “There may not be a serious, committed baby boomer alive who didn’t at some point try to learn to pick a guitar like Doc Watson,” Clinton remarked during the ceremony. And yet, awards and accolades were never Doc’s focus. For him, music was about connection—between artist and audience, past and present, family and community. By Henry Horenstein, Courtesy of Smithsonian The Boy With the Banjo For all his accomplishments, Doc Watson never lost touch with his roots. He often spoke fondly of his childhood in Deep Gap, where his father built him that first fretless banjo. That humble gift, crafted from the hide of an old family cat, was the spark that lit a fire in young Arthel Lane Watson. Even then, he approached music with the same dedication that would define his life. His father’s challenge to learn “When the Roses Bloom in Dixieland” in exchange for a guitar wasn’t just a moment of determination— it was the beginning of a lifelong relationship with stringed instruments. A Living Song Doc Watson once said, “When I play a song, be it on the guitar or banjo, I live that song.” And in living those songs, he made them live for us too. Through his recordings, his performances, and the enduring legacy of MerleFest, Doc Watson’s voice continues to echo, ensuring that the music of Appalachia remains as vibrant and relevant as ever. For Doc, music wasn’t just a career—it was a way of life, a way of preserving the stories and traditions of a region, and a way of connecting us all. Though he left this world in 2012, his songs—like the mountains he called home—stand timeless.
Jim Gavenus’ Lens on Doc Watson Listening to Stories, Capturing Legacies For Jim Gavenus, photography is more than a craft—it’s a powerful form of storytelling that transcends time, preserving moments that might otherwise fade into history. His images serve as a bridge between the fleeting and the eternal, transforming split-second experiences into enduring narratives that reveal the depth of human experience. Through his lens, he captures raw emotion, unspoken truths, and defining moments that give his subjects a voice long after the shutter clicks. Whether chronicling the exuberant joy of a music festival, the quiet resolve of a social movement, or the intimate essence of a musical icon, Jim’s work goes beyond mere documentation. His powerful photographs of legendary guitarist and folk icon Doc Watson exemplify his ability to capture not just an artist, but the spirit of a lifetime dedicated to music. In these images, Watson’s humility, wisdom, and deep connection to his craft are palpable, allowing viewers to witness the soul of a man whose influence shaped generations. At its best, photography is more than an art form—it is a means of preserving history with a heartbeat. Jim doesn’t just take pictures; he immerses himself in the world of his subjects, forging a deep connection that allows him to capture their essence with authenticity and respect. Each frame is not just about freezing a moment in time but about honoring a legacy, ensuring that the stories of his subjects are seen, felt, and remembered.
Jim’s career is built on a profound respect for the people and moments he documents. His approach is simple yet powerful: every subject deserves dignity, and every story deserves to be told. This ethos has guided him throughout his career, driving him to photograph everything from civil rights leaders to world-class musicians. Whether capturing the quiet strength of social changemakers or the enduring presence of artists like Doc Watson, Jim’s work transcends photography—it becomes a lasting tribute to the people and histories that shape our world. A Humble Beginning Jim’s journey into photography began in Eastern Pennsylvania with a Kodak Instamatic camera and a passion for capturing the world around him. His natural curiosity and keen eye for storytelling led him to the music world, where early opportunities to photograph legendary musicians like Clarence Clemons and Levon Helm ignited his love for storytelling through imagery. As his career flourished, Jim moved to Daytona Beach, Florida, where he sharpened his craft and built a portfolio that included collaborations with Wilco, Soul Asylum, and The Jayhawks. But it was his deep connection to MerleFest—a festival that celebrates the roots and evolution of Americana music—that became a cornerstone of his career. Over the years, Jim’s reputation as a photographer grew, and he found himself documenting not only musicians but also the social movements that defined generations. His work in capturing the faces and moments of history has solidified his standing as one of the most respected photojournalists in the field. Meeting Doc Watson Among the countless musicians Jim has photographed, one holds a particularly special place in his heart: Doc Watson. As Jim recounts, his journey to becoming an official photographer for MerleFest didn’t happen overnight. “I had applied to be an official photographer for MerleFest and was turned down,” Jim explains. “But I went anyway and brought my camera with
me. That year, I took some great pictures, including one of Doc that I was especially proud of. The following year, I used those photos to apply again, and this time, I was accepted.” It was as an official MerleFest photographer that Jim met Doc Watson for the first time. “One day, I was backstage, holding two printed pictures of Doc. There used to be a stage on a steep hill, and backstage, there was a glass door. Doc’s grandson, Richard, saw me through the door and asked, ‘Do you want to get those signed?’ I said, ‘No, I shot these, and I wanted to give copies to the family.’ His demeanor changed immediately. He opened the door and said, ‘Come in.’ “Inside, Doc was sitting with a group of musicians. At one point, he paused and said, ‘Someone is out of tune.’ Nobody admitted it, but one of the musicians said, ‘If Doc says someone is out of tune, someone is out of tune.’ “Then Doc’s friend Jim Rouse looked at the print I’d brought and said, ‘This is the best picture I’ve ever seen of Doc. It really captures him.’ That moment was life-changing for me. Somehow, I’d been let into this private, profound moment. I’ll never forget the gravity of it.”
Building a Bond Jim’s relationship with Doc didn’t stop at that first meeting. “Later that year, I was at another Doc Watson concert. I shouldn’t have done this, but I snuck backstage. Doc was there with David Holt and his grandson Richard. They asked me to take a picture, and I took a handful. After that, things changed. “At MerleFest, Doc would ask me to sit with him. Sometimes he’d send me to fetch Rosa Lee. Over time, a real friendship blossomed. Every Sunday morning at MerleFest, Doc and Rosa Lee would sit behind the stage for a quiet moment. Doc would play and tell stories, and from the first year, it became a tradition that I was there with them. It was guaranteed—Doc, Rosa Lee, and me on Sunday mornings.” One memory stands out vividly for Jim. “Doc was playing at B.B. King’s in New York City, and I got there early for the soundcheck. Afterward, David Holt and Richard left, so it was just me and Doc. He played and played, and then he started telling me stories. “He told me about how, when he was younger, he’d struggled to provide for his family. He was waiting in line for government assistance and made a decision right then: he was going to support his family through his music. As he told me this, he started to tear up. It was such a touching moment. “He also told me that music changed when people stopped riding trains. He explained that trains had a rhythm, and that rhythm influenced him. Then he said, ‘When I die, I hope people remember me for the man I was, not just the guitar I played.’ That humility and grace were Doc in a nutshell.”
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25 The Art of Capturing Connection Jim’s photographs of Doc Watson have become iconic, not just for their technical brilliance but for the profound sense of presence they convey. One image, in particular, found its way to the 2013 Grammy Awards, a testament to both Doc’s legacy and Jim’s artistry. Jim’s ability to capture emotion extends beyond music. Whether he’s photographing the jubilant energy of a festival crowd or the quiet resilience of civil rights leaders, his images reveal the dignity, humanity, and emotion of his subjects. His approach to photography— one rooted in respect, patience, and deep listening—allows him to create portraits that don’t just document history but breathe life into it. A Legacy Through the Lens Through his lens, Jim Gavenus has preserved the spirit of one of America’s greatest musical legends while telling countless other stories that matter. His work stands as a testament to the connections that define our lives: between artist and audience, photographer and subject, fleeting moments and enduring legacies. As Jim says, “Every subject, every moment, deserves respect. My goal is to honor their humanity and their impact.” His photographs don’t just preserve history; they create a bridge to it, ensuring that these stories, these moments, live on in our collective memory. From festival stages to backstage encounters, from candid conversations to once-in-a-lifetime performances, Jim’s work with Doc Watson is more than just a collection of photographs—it is a heartfelt tribute to a legend, a friendship, and a love for storytelling through the lens of a camera. Ad Available $900 [email protected]
Blind Witness I. The year he was born, the chestnuts began to fall, dying slow in the mountains that had held them for centuries. By the time he was a man, the last one was gone— and with them, the high, sheltering canopy, the deep shade that once ran unbroken. And though he never saw them, he stood blind witness— felt the light shift, sharper, harsher, no longer softened by the crowns above. As their shadows thinned, as the light pressed harder through bare branches, as the woods grew spare, silent. II. March, 1923. A warm year, too warm, winter loosening its grip early. In a house without electricity without running water, without anything but what they made, they welcomed their sixth child. Nine children, hands working the land, feet planted firm in Deep Gap, as their kin had done since the 1790s. No one knew for sure why his sight slipped away. Some said silver oxide, some an infection. But before the world went dark, he remembered— A handkerchief waving over his cradle, its shape shimmering against the light. Maybe it was red. Maybe not. He remembered frost on the ground, how it sparkled before it blurred. He remembered the moon was round. Then, nothing but light and shadow. Then, only the sound of the world. III. His father built roads and schoolhouses, laid stones for places he’d never see. His mother canned vegetables, washed clothes by hand, made sure no child ever went hungry. They ate corn, pork, wild game, burned wood for heat, lived as their ancestors had for a hundred years before them. And they sang. Their voices rose in the tight walls of home, braided together in shape-note hymns. Some said it was the spirit of togetherness. Doc said, "I think it was the spirit of God." IV.The world held music, humming low, waiting for hands to let it go. He tapped rhythms on the porch rail, plucked melodies from wire and tin. Everything had a song inside it, and he was going to find them all. V. Then came the school. A train ride east, miles away from Deep Gap, from home, from everything steady and known— clear across the state, to Raleigh, to the school for the blind, where the mountains fell away behind him. Doc and his brother cried for days, their small hands gripping their mother’s dress, their voices catching in the thick mountain air. Maybe she cried, too, but the train ran on, and the school doors closed behind them. And so the rhythm began— a boy sent away in the fall, a boy finding his way through the hush of winter, then stepping off the train in June, the mountains opening their arms again, home as it had always been, waiting. The Cat-Skin Banjo I."I believe you could learn to play a banjo, Son. I've got a mind to make you one." So he set to work, boiled a strip of maple, bent it slow, shaped the hoop with steady hands, fitted tension hooks just right, made it factory-clean, near as he could. Something a boy could play— something that’d last. II. The Sears Roebuck catalog sat open, its thin pages whispering promise. "Cat-skin head, bright tone, clear ring." His brother read it aloud twice. And in the corner of the house, Grandma’s old tom lay curled, Strings and Shadows: The Life of Doc Watson By Carmen Eckard Inspired by Eddie Huffman's research and his book Doc Watson: A Life in Music
blind, deaf, and lame. It was time. Doc and his brother made careful work of it, the knife moving quick, their hands unclean for days, the stink buried deep in their skin, the dreams worse— the cat’s ghost curling through the dark corners of sleep. III. General scraped the hide, tanned it slow, stretched it taut across the hoop, so thin the lamplight shone through. He rapped it with his knuckles, listened, nodded once—just right. Then he strung the thing, turned the pegs, played two songs, hands steady as creek stones. And then he passed it on. "Here, Son. Take this and learn to play it good. You might need it in this world. It’s yours now." That night, his father played for the last time. The Tunnel and the Road Home I. Summer was slipping away, the air turning sharp at the edges. He knew what came next— the train, the school, the rules, the walls, the overlords. So he did what a high-spirited boy might do— he hid. Curled up quiet in Deep Gap’s folds, waiting for summer to stretch just a little longer. Maybe they’d forget. Maybe the world would just let him be. But they found him, his parents’ voices pulling him back. And when General said it was time, it was time. II. The school took him again, but he wasn’t made for that kind of place. Too many rules, too much hush, too little room for a boy who liked to take things apart just to know how they worked. Or for a boy who loved music too much. III. He and his friend Montgomery played on stage once— "Cripple Creek," their notes bright, Doc’s foot patting time, his hands sure on the strings. The matron slapped him after. Called him conceited. The sting faded, but the lesson stayed— joy wasn’t welcome there. IV. Ask Doc, and he’d say it was the cigarettes that got him sent home for good. Ask Montgomery and he’d tell you about the radio— how they found Doc in the tunnels under the school, surrounded by wires and tubes, trying to find the heartbeat of sound. Either way, the school was done with him. And he was done with it. V. He stepped off the train, Deep Gap wrapping around him again, familiar, full of air, full of space. There was work to do, the kind that got dirt under your nails, blisters on your hands. General didn’t believe in corners for a blind boy to sit and dry up in. "I wouldn’t have been worth the salt in my bread," Doc would say later, "if it weren’t for him and Mama." VI. The house still smelled like an old battery, the family radio filling the rooms with its thick, sharp scent. That one, at least, he hadn’t taken apart. But the music stayed with him— the songs from school, the blues and the ballads, the hum of a world bigger than Deep Gap, even as his hands settled back into work. One world had closed behind him, but another— the one that mattered— was just beginning. The Guitar I. The first time he touched one, it wasn’t his own— it belonged to a friend at school, a boy who played clean and strong. They traded for a while, banjo for guitar, Doc’s hands testing the weight of it,
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29 fingers pressing down, pulling sound from steel. And that was it. The banjo was fine, but the guitar— the guitar was something else. II. Out on the streets of Boone, the banjo still earned its keep. People stopped, coins clinked, music filled his pockets. But when he thought of the sound he wanted, the feel of strings under his hands, it wasn’t the banjo he dreamed of. "When the guitar came along," he’d say later, "that was my first love in music." III. One morning, a borrowed guitar sat waiting in the Watson house. Doc ran his fingers over the frets, picked a tune while his father, General, ate his breakfast in quiet. The old man wiped his mouth, looked over, "Son, how much money you got?" "Seven, maybe eight dollars." "If you can learn to play and sing a tune by the time I get back from work— we’ll go to town Saturday and buy you one." Doc didn’t tell him he’d already learned a bit, that he’d listened close at school, that Montgomery had placed hands on the frets, teaching him how the music was brought forth. So when General came home that evening, Doc sat up straight, picked out the chords, let his voice ride the melody— "I met my honey at the railroad track, I said honey wait for me. I'm going to make a lot of money up north, and it's me for old Tennessee." IV. Saturday came, thirty miles to North Wilkesboro, dust rising behind the car as they drove to Rhodes-Day Furniture. He ran his hands down the row of guitars, found a Stella that hummed just right beneath his touch. Twelve dollars. Doc counted out seven, his father covered the rest. That was all it took. From then on, he was a guitar player. The Walk Home I. The first time he crossed the mountain to hear Gaither Carlton play, he was just a young man with a guitar and a hunger for music. Gaither, old-time fiddler, kin on both sides, played hymns on the radio Sundays, fifteen minutes of heaven in bow and string. But it wasn’t just the fiddle tunes Doc heard that day— it was the voices, two sisters singing, sweet and strong, twined together like honeysuckle. He didn’t know then that one of those voices would soon be his whole world. II. Years passed, the war came and went, and Doc found himself again
at the Carltons' home in Deep Gap, visiting with his brother Arnold. And there she was. Rosa Lee. "I noticed her as a beautiful woman." Rosa Lee said, “Hell-O!” and it might as well have been a brick to his head. "I didn’t have a lick of sense after that." III. One day, walking the road home, his mind turning slow and easy, he heard soft footsteps behind him— quick, light, full of something he couldn’t name yet. And then— a small hand in his. "I’m going to walk with you," she said. His heart jumped, the air went bright around him. It was young love, the best kind. "Every breath of every day was her name." IV. They married young, her just fifteen, him twenty-three. Hard years came. The loss of their first child, a sorrow too heavy for words. But love held fast. Then came Merle, then Nancy Ellen, a house full of music, a love strong enough to last a lifetime. Practice Like the Devil I. Long days, hard hands, a house to keep, mouths to feed. Work came in pieces— whatever paid, whatever kept the fire warm, the cupboards full. Music was still there, tucked into evenings, threaded between hours of labor and love. He played where he could— street corners, porch steps, Saturday night dances, the radio’s hum. But something was waiting. Something bigger. II.Then came the Jack Williams Band, country swing and honky-tonk fire, where he traded wood for wire, acoustic for electric, and made that guitar sing like it was born to. Fiddle tunes found new breath beneath his fingers, running up and down the neck, quick and clear as creek water. Square dances, radio shows, neon-lit bars, small-town stages filled with sound. Every night, every song, he worked— "Practice like the Devil." III. He played where the people were, let the music earn its keep. Street corners, hat open for change, radio shows, live and raw. Then Ralph Rinzler came, searching for old sounds, looking for mountain ghosts still living in the music. He found Doc at Clarence Ashley’s side, flatpicking the way no one else had, turning fiddle reels into something new. "Play it like that," Rinzler said, "The way you do it, that's something special." So he set the electric aside, let his fingers dance on a Martin, and the world started listening. A Father’s Pride I. The first time Merle stood beside him on stage, he was just fifteen, three months with a guitar in his hands, but his rhythm was steady, his fingers sure. It was the Berkeley Folk Festival, 1964— a father, a son, two guitars, one song. Merle played backup, his chords falling in line, his timing tight, his touch light but certain. Doc didn’t have to say much. He just nodded, let the notes say what words never could. II. From that day on, they traveled together, the road rolling beneath their wheels— festivals, concerts, late-night picking sessions, towns blurring past Clarence Ashley, Gaither Carlton, Doc Watson, Rosa Lee Watson: Performing outside, in the John Edwards Memorial Foundation Records (20001), Southern Folklife Collection at Wilson Special Collections Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
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as their guitars spoke to one another, woven together like roots in the earth. Merle’s playing grew, his own style blooming— blues and country, slide and swing, his hands shaping sounds that hadn’t been there before. And with every show, every song, Doc’s music soared higher. The world was listening now. They packed concert halls, played for crowds who knew every note, recorded albums that carried their music to places neither had ever seen. This was it— the golden years, a father and son, riding the crest of something bigger than themselves. III. The years went fast, fingers faster, songs passing between them like stories around a fire. And even when the road would one day grow quiet, even when the music changed, one truth remained— A father’s pride, a son’s legacy, their music intertwined, forever echoing in the hearts of those who listened, who understood the bond they shared. The Hand That Reached Back I. It was late, the air thick with summer’s breath, the road dark and winding. Merle knew these hills, knew the bends and hollows, but pain is a hurried thing, and his hands weren’t steady that night. A cut too deep, blood beading on rough wood, sent him riding through the dark to a neighbor’s house, searching for help, something to dull the sting. The tractor rumbled beneath him on the way home, steady, sure— until the path sloped hard, the tires catching wrong, the weight tilting, the world turning with it. Metal groaned. Rubber slipped. The tractor rolled, crushing him beneath its weight. One wrong move, one slip in the night, and the world came apart like an unstrung chord. II. When the news came, it hit like a hammer— hard, sudden, crushing the air from the room. Rosa Lee gasped. Doc had no words. Only the ache, only the empty chair, only the silence where music had been. "Without Merle’s help in the hard days and the dues-paying times, I probably would have gotten out of it," Doc would say later. "But Merle stood by me and helped me over the hump. He wasn’t only a good son, he was as good a friend as a man will ever have in this world." And now, the road stretched on without him. III.The night before the funeral, sleep came thick with sorrow. And in the dark of his mind, Doc felt himself sinking, trapped in something heavy and burning, quicksand pulling him down, hot and deep, no way out. He fought, but there was no ground beneath him. And then— A hand. Big, strong, reaching back. "Come on, Dad, you can make it." Merle’s voice, clear as morning, pulling him up, out of the heat, into cool air, sunlight on his face, a breeze rolling in like an old song. He woke with a start, the dream still wrapped around him. "Well, there it is," he thought. "The good Lord let him come and visit me even after he left this world, to show me that I must not quit." IV. For a while, the guitars stood silent, the music caught in grief’s grip. Nothing loomed larger than Merle's empty chair. But love doesn’t disappear, and neither does music. It lingers in the wind, in the notes passed from hand to hand, in the legacy of a father and son who once played as one. So they gathered— pickers and friends, voices raised, guitars ringing, a festival born from sorrow, but held up by love. They called it MerleFest. Photo courtesy of MerleFest
A song for the son, a song for the music, a song that would never fade. V.The years went fast, fingers faster, but time slowed that night, the moment standing still forever. Still, Doc played on. Because grief is heavy, but music lifts. Because love is lost, but never gone. And because even in silence, Merle’s music still played. The Road Goes On I. The music had changed. The space beside him was empty, but the road stretched forward, and the songs still needed playing. So Doc did what he knew— he kept on picking, kept on traveling, kept on making music for the ones who still listened. T. Michael Coleman joined him first, his bass steady as a heartbeat, holding the rhythm, giving the songs a place to land. Then Jack Lawrence came along, his picking sharp, his timing sure, his guitar answering Doc’s like it had always belonged. No one could replace Merle— no one ever would— but they played beside him, carrying the music forward. And Doc played on. II.The world had been listening for years, but now, the world tipped its hat. Grammy after Grammy, the gold shining against the worn calluses of a working man’s hands. Hall of Fame honors, awards stacked up like firewood, but none of that mattered as much as the music itself. The joy of playing. The love of sharing. The way the sound could shift like a river, flowing between styles— old ballads, blues, country swing, notes borrowed from far-off places and stitched into something new. "It’s all traditional-plus," Doc would say, "the music of the mountains, plus whatever else the heart wants to play." And that was how he played— never bound by rules, only by feeling. III. Every year was a pilgrimage. Back to Wilkesboro, back to the festival, back to the place where his son’s name was sung by thousands. They stood together, picking, singing, remembering. And when the music started, it felt like church. It felt like family. It was salve for old wounds, a balm for hearts still aching, a way to heal without words. And maybe, on those festival nights, when the music was right and the wind ran through the trees, Merle was still reaching back. Epilogue: The Songs Go On Doc is gone now, but his songs are not. They live in the hands of pickers, in the voices of singers, in the hush of a crowd waiting for the first note to ring. And as long as guitars are tuned, as long as fingers find the strings, as long as hearts are lifted by melody— Doc Watson still plays. Photo by Jim Gavenus
34 Studio and Live Albums: 1964: Doc Watson 1965: Doc Watson & Son 1966: Southbound 1966: Home Again! 1967: Ballads from Deep Gap 1968: Doc Watson in Nashville: Good Deal! 1971: Doc Watson on Stage 1972: The Elementary Doctor Watson! 1973: Then and Now 1974: Two Days in November 1975: Memories 1976: Doc and the Boys 1977: Lonesome Road 1978: Look Away! 1979: Live and Pickin' 1981: Red Rocking Chair 1983: Doc and Merle Watson's Guitar Album 1984: Down South 1985: Pickin' the Blues 1986: Riding the Midnight Train 1987: Portrait 1990: On Praying Ground 1990: Songs for Little Pickers 1991: My Dear Old Southern Home 1992: Remembering Merle 1995: Docabilly 1999: Third Generation Blues 2002: Legacy 2002: Round the Table Again 2017: Bear's Sonic Journals: Never the Same Way Once Discography Doc Watson was prolific, putting out a great many albums over the course of his career. These 30 albums shown were his studio and live albums.
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With The Watson Family: 1964: Treasures Untold (live) 1977: Tradition (live) 1990: The Watson Family 1994: Songs from the Southern Mountains (live) Collaborations: 1961: Old Time Music at Clarence Ashley's, Vol. 1 (live) 1963: Old Time Music at Clarence Ashley's, Vol. 2 (live) 1967: Old-Timey Concert (with Clint Howard and Fred Price) (live) 1967: Strictly Instrumental (with Flatt and Scruggs) 1972: Will the Circle Be Unbroken (with Nitty Gritty Dirt Band) 1980: Reflections (with Chet Atkins) 1990: Jean Ritchie and Doc Watson at Folk City 1993: Live Recordings 1963-1980: Off the Record Volume 2 (with Bill Monroe) 1994: Original Folkways Recordings of Doc Watson and Clarence Ashley, 1960-1962 1997: Doc & Dawg (with David Grisman) 1998: Del Doc & Mac (with Del McCoury and Mac Wiseman) 2003: The Three Pickers (with Earl Scruggs and Ricky Skaggs) Compilations: 1973: The Best of Doc Watson 1973: The Essential Doc Watson 1983: Favorites 1994: Original Folkways Recordings: 1960–1962 1995: The Vanguard Years 1996: Watson Country 1997: Elementary Doctor Watson!/Then and Now 1998: Home Sweet Home 1999: The Best of Doc Watson: 1964–1968 2000: Foundation: Doc Watson Guitar Instrumental Collection, 1964–1998 2001: Doc Watson at Gerdes Folk City (live) 2002: Then and Now/Two Days in November 2002: 14 Fabulous Tracks 2002: Lonesome Road/Look Away! 2002: Songs from Home 2003: Trouble in Mind: Doc Watson Country Blues Collection 2003: Doc and the Boys/Live and Pickin' 2003: Tennessee Stud 2004: Sittin' Here Pickin' the Blues 2006: Black Mountain Rag 2007: Vanguard Visionaries 2008: Americana Master Series: Best of Doc Watson 2013: The Definitive Doc Watson
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38 Jack Lawrence: The Guitarist Who Knew Doc Best The Guitar That Came Back to Life Jack Lawrence brushed off the dust, inhaling the scent of aged wood as he lifted the guitar. He recognized it immediately—not just from the way it felt in his hands, but from album covers he had studied as a kid. The worn fretboard and faded finish told stories of years past. As a habit ingrained in every guitarist, he leaned in and sniffed the sound hole, letting the rich aroma of old wood and history settle around him. He strummed a out-of-tune, 3-stringed chord, letting the sound linger in the quiet of Doc Watson’s music room. A voice from the doorway broke the silence. “What in the world are you doing in there?” Jack turned to see Doc standing there. “Just checking this old thing out,” Jack said, nodding toward the guitar. Doc chuckled. “I wore that out years ago. It’s been through more repairs than I can count—even survived a car wreck.”
Jack ran his fingers over the wood, imagining the songs it had played. “I could bring it back,” he offered. For years, Doc brushed off the idea, teasing Jack more times than he could count with, “Maybe one of these days I’ll give that to you.” Then, one Christmas, he finally did. A year later, Jack placed the fully restored guitar in Doc’s lap during a recording session. Without a word, Doc ran his hands over the neck, feeling every familiar groove and dent. Recognition lit up his face. “Oh, what a good old friend this guitar has always been.” And then Jack leaned in and whispered, eyes twinkling, “Maybe one day I’ll give it to you.” A Call That Changed Everything Jack’s journey to that moment didn’t begin with an audition—it began with friendship. Before he ever shared the stage with Doc Watson, he first made music with Merle, Doc’s son. The two formed a deep musical bond,
playing in bands together and swapping licks long before Jack ever dreamed of joining the legendary guitarist on stage. By October 1983, Jack was an experienced musician with years of gigs under his belt. He had left Charlotte right after high school in 1971, chasing a career in music, playing across the country, and eventually returning to North Carolina in the mid-1970s. That’s where he met Joe Smothers, a member of Doc and Merle’s Frosty Morn Band. The two formed a duo, and before long, Merle began sitting in on their sets, playing slide guitar. Then came the call that changed everything. “What are you doing tomorrow?” Merle asked. Jack’s answer? Yard work. “Well, I can get you out of that if you want.” The next day, Jack met Doc at the airport. Hours later, he was on stage in Chicago—no rehearsal, no warm-up, just Doc rattling off the names of three songs and saying, “That’s the first three. That’s a good start.” Jack laughed at the memory. “That was as much rehearsal as I ever did with him for the next almost 30 years.” A Musical Understanding Without Words For nearly three decades, Jack played beside Doc, blending his own voice into their performances while staying true to the intricate nuances of Watson’s playing. Their bond was built on something deeper than conversation—it was built on instinct. Doc, being blind, had a unique way of cueing Jack. He would simply turn toward him when it was time for a solo.
41 “That was my cue—I was coming up,” Jack explained. “Doc gave everybody a chance to show what they could do.” One of the biggest challenges of playing with Doc was keeping up with his unpredictable timing. Years of listening to old 78 records—where beats were sometimes added or lost— had shaped his style. “You could anticipate it just by the way he was singing a line,” Jack said. “But if you didn’t know him, it could throw you completely off. I learned to play using his songs, so it came naturally to me.” That subtle, almost imperceptible shift in timing was what made Jack a perfect musical partner for Doc. When bassist Michael Coleman left the band, it made sense for Doc and Jack to perform as a duo. Keeping up with Doc’s rhythm was something only a musician truly in sync with him could do.
42 MerleFest and Carrying the Legacy Jack Lawrence is one of only a handful of musicians who have played every MerleFest since its inception—a legacy that continues to this day. MerleFest, founded in 1988 in memory of Merle Watson, has grown into one of the most renowned roots music festivals in the country. It was created to celebrate the music Merle and Doc loved, and it became a place where legendary musicians gathered to honor their legacy. “I’m just glad they still call me to do MerleFest,” Jack said. He’s in good company alongside Joe Smothers, Peter Rowan, Sam Bush, and Jerry Douglas—all musicians who helped shape the festival into what it is today. Though Doc and Merle are gone, Jack carries on their music and their memory. His deep respect for Doc Watson—both the man and the musician—shines through in every story he tells and every note he plays. When asked what song people should listen to while reading this story, Jack struggled to pick just one. “There are too many,” he said. But for those wanting something special, he offered a few suggestions: The instrumental medley of Big Sandy River and Salt Creek The old Jimmie Rodgers tune Sleep Baby Sleep Or, for something unexpected… “Nights in White Satin.” fine art framing design - installations- gallery 215a 1st Avenue SW Hickory NC 28602 wednesday thursday friday 10 - 5 fanjoylabrenz.com
43 Yes—the Moody Blues. “Doc loved the Moody Blues,” Jack revealed. “People don’t realize that.” That little-known fact is exactly the kind of detail that makes this story so special. Because beyond the legend, beyond the iconic picking style and unmistakable voice, Doc Watson was a man who loved music in all its forms. And if there’s anyone who truly understood the heart and soul behind that music, it was Jack Lawrence.
44 Sam Bush: A Lifetime at MerleFest and the Lessons of Doc Watson By Carmen Eckard Each year, when the last weekend of April rolls around, Sam Bush knows exactly where he’ll be—on stage at MerleFest. He’s played every single one since the festival’s inception in 1988, a feat only a small handful of musicians can claim. For Bush, MerleFest isn’t just another gig—it’s a reunion, a sacred gathering of old friends and a time to reflect on the deep, personal connection he had with Doc and Merle Watson. “When MerleFest hits each year, it’s like a homecoming for me,” Bush says. “It’s a gathering of old friends. I get to see my buddies, especially T. Michael Coleman and Jack Lawrence, and it brings back the closeness we all had when we played with Doc.” Bush’s relationship with Doc and Merle Watson was built over decades of shared stages, long road trips, and countless conversations. His reverence for the Watsons runs deep, not just because of their unparalleled musicianship, but because of the way they carried themselves. “Doc and Merle were incredibly good to me and to my wife, Lynn,” Bush recalls. “They were just good people. And when the festival first started, it was a way for all of us—those of us who played with Merle—to mourn him together. I think it was really important for Doc and Rosalee, too. It helped them process their loss, and for those of us who loved Merle, it gave us a place to grieve.” Lessons from Doc More than just a fellow musician, Doc Watson was a mentor to Bush. One particular lesson has stuck with him over the years, a moment of gentle guidance that shaped the way he approached music. “I was 22 years old when I recorded with Doc for the first time, on Memories in 1974,” Bush says. Photo by Jim Gavenus
45 “I was in awe. I’d been listening to Doc Watson since I was 13, and now here I was, playing with him. I wanted so badly to impress him. We did a couple of takes, and I asked him if what I was playing was okay.” Doc’s response wasn’t harsh, but it carried the weight of wisdom earned through years of experience. “He said, ‘Son, we’re gonna play more songs today than just this one.’” Bush laughs, remembering how much of an impact those simple words had on him. “What he was telling me was, you don’t have to put everything you’ve got into every song. You don’t have to play every note you know every time you pick up the instrument. You have to play for the song. That lesson has stuck with me my whole life.” The Brotherhood of the Road Beyond the lessons in musicianship, Bush speaks fondly of the camaraderie he shared with the Watsons and the musicians who played alongside them. “When we first toured with Doc and Merle in 1974, we really got to know them well—especially Merle. Merle was our running buddy. He loved the camaraderie of the other musicians. We’d sit in the camper before soundcheck, and Merle would be playing music for Doc—turning him onto stuff like the Allman Brothers. Doc was so open-minded. He loved all kinds of music, and he could take any song and make it his own.” One of the most surprising moments Bush recalls was when Doc performed Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues. “Doc said, ‘Here’s one brother Jack taught me, and I think this is a very beautiful melody.’ And then he sang Nights in White Satin. I couldn’t believe it. But when Doc played it, it sounded like he had written it. That’s the kind of musician he was. He could take anything and make it sound like it came from the hills of North Carolina.” Bush’s connection to Doc and Merle extended beyond the stage. It was about trust, respect, and an unspoken understanding that only comes from years of shared experiences. “It was an honor to be one of the people Doc trusted enough to lead him. That meant a lot to me. When you walked with Doc, you’d guide him by his arm, staying a half step ahead so he could feel where the ground changed. That trust—it meant the world.” Bush, along with Jack Lawrence, T. Michael Coleman, and others, has carried that legacy forward. The bonds formed in those early days of MerleFest remain unshakable. “I still talk to Jack all the time,” Bush says. “Even when we’re not playing together, we’re close. And that’s what MerleFest is—it’s about keeping those connections alive.” Doc’s Most Important Lesson Beyond the music, there was one lesson Doc Watson emphasized above all else: family. “Doc always impressed on me how important it is to take care of your family,” Bush says. “When Lynn and I got married in 1984, Doc and Merle invited us to Todd, North Carolina, to record with them. Merle told me, ‘We’ll have a nice little cottage for y’all to stay in—kind of like a honeymoon, even though you’ll be working.’”
Bush chuckles at the memory. “The funny part was that Merle forgot to mention that T. Michael was staying there, too. So, you know, real romantic.” But the message Doc imparted stuck with Bush throughout his life. “Doc’s philosophy was like the song he sang— Walk On, Boy. Find you a woman be good to her and she’ll be good to you. That was Doc’s way. And honestly, that’s a pretty good way to live.” A Legacy That Lives On Today, as MerleFest continues to evolve, Bush finds himself in a unique position. The festival has become one of the largest in the country, featuring artists across all genres. Many of the musicians performing now never got the chance to see Doc play in person. But for those who knew him, his presence is still felt. For Bush, playing MerleFest isn’t just about keeping a streak alive—it’s about keeping a legacy alive. “I miss them. But I cherish the amazing musical moments I got to have with Doc. I was lucky. Not everyone gets to meet their musical hero. But I got to play with mine. And I got to call him a friend.” At this year’s MerleFest, Sam Bush will take the stage once again, surrounded by his musical family, playing for a man whose lessons, both in music and in life, will never fade. He'll be there next year too, and year after. “I’ll be standing on stage, and every year, it happens—I feel Merle go through me. And now, since Doc has passed, I feel him, too. And Rosalee. It’s like they’re still there, watching over it all.” Sam Bush Photo by Jim Gavenus Photo by Willa Stein
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When Doc Watson "Saw" the Garden: B Townes' Unforgettable Moment B Townes never set out to create a music festival. He was a horticulture instructor at Wilkes Community College, a man who saw potential where others saw empty spaces. In the early 1970s, when he looked around campus, all he saw was grass—too much of it. The Southern Appalachian Mountains are among the most biodiverse regions on the planet, yet the campus had little to reflect that. He envisioned gardens, not just for beauty, but as living classrooms where students could touch, smell, and experience nature firsthand. His most ambitious idea was the Garden for the Senses, designed to engage all five senses and be accessible to the visually impaired. He imagined fragrant flowers, textured plants, and Braille plaques that would allow visitors to experience the garden through touch and scent. But such a project required funding, and B needed a way to raise the money. That’s when he had an idea: a concert. B reached out to his friend Bill Young, who introduced him to Doc Watson, the legendary guitarist and singer. Doc was already deeply tied to the region’s musical heritage, and B hoped he might agree to perform. He did—but with one request. He asked that the garden be named for his late son, Merle Watson, who had recently passed away in a tragic accident. B gladly agreed. The concert was a success—far beyond what B had imagined. What started as a simple fundraiser grew into something much bigger, evolving into MerleFest, one of the most beloved music festivals in the country. Yet even as the festival flourished, B remained dedicated to the original vision: the garden.
When Doc Touched the Garden Years later, after the Merle Watson Garden for the Senses had finally been completed, B had the privilege of walking through it with Doc. Though Doc had been instrumental in making the garden possible, he had never been able to see it—at least, not in the way most people would. But this garden had been created for touch, scent, and sound. It was made for people like Doc. B led him to the stone wall, where sculpted images of Merle and Doc had been carefully carved into the surface. Slowly, Doc reached out his hands and ran his fingers across the cool stone. He traced the contours of the artwork, feeling the details through his fingertips. A smile spread across his face. "That’s Merle,” he said, his voice filled with recognition and warmth. His fingers moved further. “And that’s me!” It was a moment of deep connection—not just between a father and his son, but between the past and the present, between music and the land, between two men who had come together to create something lasting. MerleFest grew beyond what anyone imagined, becoming an economic and cultural cornerstone of the Wilkesboro community. It now has an estimated annual economic impact of more than $12 million, much of which is reinvested directly into the local community through non-profit organizations and educational programs. But at its heart, it all began with a promise—a garden for learning, a garden for remembrance, a garden where Doc Watson could "see" his son again. And it all started with B Townes. An Invitation to Experience the Garden If you attend MerleFest, take a moment to step away from the music and walk through the Merle Watson Garden for the Senses. Close your eyes and breathe in the fragrance of the flowers. Feel the textures of the leaves and the carvings on the wall. Run your fingers over the Braille plaques and sculpted faces. Let your hands guide you through the story, just as Doc once did. This garden was built to be experienced. Don’t just look—feel it. CELEBRATING MOUNTAIN HERITAGE HERITAGE FESTIVAL MAY 03 2025 Historic Downtown Waynesville, NC 10AM-5PM A day of activities celebrating Appalachian heritage including a vendor market for handmade art and heritage craft demonstrations Shelton House
Peter Rowan and Doc Watson: A Musical Bond Forged in Authenticity Peter Rowan—bluegrass icon, GRAMMY-winning musician, and one of the genre’s most versatile performers—has spent a lifetime pushing the boundaries of traditional music. From his early days as a member of Bill Monroe’s Bluegrass Boys to his groundbreaking work with Old & In the Way, Rowan’s influence on bluegrass and Americana music is undeniable. Yet, no matter how far his career takes him, Rowan always makes a point to return to MerleFest, the annual festival founded in honor of Doc Watson and his son, Merle. We recently had the chance to chat with Peter Rowan to talk about his long friendship with Doc Watson, the lessons he learned from the iconic musician, and what keeps bringing him back to MerleFest year after year. “I was about 20 years old when I first met him,” Rowan shared. At the time, Rowan was performing with Bill Monroe, the father of bluegrass, and learning the ropes in a fiercely competitive environment. “Bill Monroe had such gravitas about where he stood in the world’s history,” Rowan explained. “He had survived when people like Hank Williams hadn’t. It was a world of bluegrass that was very competitive.” In contrast, Doc Watson offered something entirely different. “Doc wasn’t like that,” Rowan said. “He didn’t make you feel less than; he welcomed you. There wasn’t this strict older-generationversus-younger-generation thing with Doc. He was wide open.” A Meeting of Musical Minds Rowan’s introduction to Doc came through the efforts of Ralph Rinzler, the influential folklorist who was pivotal in promoting both Bill Monroe and Doc Watson during the folk revival of the 1960s. Rinzler had discovered Doc in Deep Gap, North Carolina, recording him alongside Clarence Ashley and bringing their old-time music to new audiences. “When I met Doc, he was playing with Bill Monroe on a show up in Boston,” Rowan recounted. “I grew up there, searching for the real roots of bluegrass, and here was Doc—this incredible guitarist who could play old-time music, bluegrass, and so much more.” At the time, Watson’s career was just beginning to gain traction outside his home state. He had transitioned from playing electric guitar in a country dance band to becoming a standard-bearer for traditional Appalachian music, thanks in large part to Rinzler’s advocacy. But even in those early days, Watson’s approachability and openness left a lasting impression on Rowan. “He was just such a friendly person,” Rowan said. “He wasn’t like some of the tougher, oldergeneration guys. His musical tastes were open, and he had so much talent. He could play old-time music, bluegrass, anything.” Photo by Willa Stein Sharing Songs and Stories One of Rowan’s fondest memories of Watson was how generous he was with his time and knowledge. “Doc made me a little tape of songs he remembered from his youth—songs that never made it to national radio but were played in the South,” Rowan shared. “It was like a gift. He had such a vast musical background, learning from his family and his community. And Ralph Rinzler recorded some of that, like the duet ‘My Lone Journey’ with his wife, Rosa Lee.”