Cover Note The cover shows Ojibwa moccasins from the collection of the Smithsonian Department of Anthropology. The designs on their cuffs and vamps show them to be “dress” shoes, such as would be worn for dances or ceremonial occasions. Everyday moccasins lacked such decoration. Style elements which are distinctly Ojibwa are the puckered seams, the use of black velvet as a background for the beadwork, and the real as well as fanciful floral motifs. Festival of American Folklife 1981 Smithsonian Institution National Park Service June 24-28, July1-5 A Return to Summer and to Old Favorites by Ralph Rinzler, Director, Smithsonian Office of Folklife Programs Before settling down to design a program for the fifteenth annual Folklife Festival, we reviewed correspondence from visitors to the Festivals over the years. The Secretary received a flood of impassioned letters, some of them, singing the praises of crafts demonstrations, others reminding us how much people enjoy the opportunity to take home craft objects like those made at the Festival — and not unlike those seen in the cases within the museums. The pleas- ure of music out on the Mall under the stars on a warm summer evening appeared as a leitmotif, and many people just wanted to have a chance to join in a square or a folk dance, or to savor ethnic or regional food. Preparations for this year’s return to summer involved us in going back to many old friends in mid-winter and asking them if they would make one or two kiln-loads of pottery for the Smithsonian Festival in mid-spring. We asked others, “Can you come to Washington for two weeks around the Fourth of July?” In keeping with the International Year of Disabled Persons, we asked still others, “Will you help us with a special program on the folklore of deaf people?” We found approval at almost every turn. A return to summer was greeted with enthusiasm as was the combination of old themes with some new ones. The lengthened two-week format was appealing, and Fourth of July weekend in the Nation’s capital sounded just fine, too. Late last autumn, we turned to the Folk Arts Program of the National Endowment for the Arts to help us out because our return to summer involves us in producing two Folklife Festivals in less than one year and time for fieldwork was limited. The result will be a series of daytime programs and evening concerts which draws on five years of intensive work on the part of the Arts Endowment in supporting folk arts performance and documentation. In a real sense, this summer’s Festival was designed by the Smithsonian visitors whose enjoyment of past Festivals prompted them to write enthusiastic letters telling us what they liked about the program. I yield to temptation and include an excerpt from one of the 1967 letters. We hope that this year’s Festival lives up to your expectations. If it does, and if it does not, do not hesitate to let us know. dear N., Ripley, Lh nas be Fe Sho drag in Washington vil your the Smithsonian stepped in On | the scene-Unti\ now m people Qovent been a ae te Free shows dug. 55 1967 rete, ecause I think having ald the cratspeople on the Hal was just wonderful . of the location, Your Sales tent was & Please , please do it anain ney + Wear. Ty vos es eve cy word - Wonder ful amusin odd \ peal, exotic , clashy , bold- + ice ee ‘+ oWeocted people. Thanks a mig nas Yours peat aie Fender ick Festival of American Folklife Program Book Smithsonian Institution © 1981 Editor: Jack Santino Assistant Editor: Linda DuBro Designer: Daphne Shuttleworth Assistant Designer: Linda McKnight Typesetter: Harlowe Typography Inc. Printer: Stephenson Inc. Contents Our Folklife Festival — A Fifteen Year Perspective by S. Dillon Ripley, Secretary, Smithsonian Institution Folklife Festival Shows America’s Great Inheritance by Russell E. Dickenson Director, National Park Service The Use of Birchbark by the Ojibwa Indians by Earl Nyholm Trouping Under Canvas: The American Tent Show Tradition by Glenn Hinson Crafts in a Folklife Festival - Why Include Them and How to Evaluate Them by Ralph Rinzler, Director, Office of Folklife Programs Traditional Southern Crafts in the Twentieth Century by Robert Sayers To Hear a Hand: Deaf Folklore and Deaf Culture by Jo Radner and Simon Carmel Adobe: An Ancient Folk Technology by Peter Nabokov Preserving Folk Arts: The National Endowment for the Arts, Folk Arts Program by Bess Lomax Hawes South Slavic American Musical Traditions by Richard March Playground Folkgames and the Community of Children by Jean Alexander House Dances and Kitchen Rackets: Traditional Music Styles of the Northeast by Nicholas Hawes Our Folklife Festival— A Fifteen Year Pe rspective by S. Dillon Ripley Secretary, Smithsonian Institution Fifteen years ago we began our Folklife Festival as a way to further intercul- tural understanding within our nation. We planned these festive events in the belief that increased knowledge about the creativity of a people leads to a fresh appreciation and admiration. We felt that as we celebrated the differences between groups in the U.S. — regional, occupational, ethnic and racial groups — we were contributing to the unity of our country. The idea took hold immediately. Letters poured into the Smithsonian after the 1967 Festival. They came from children — one as young as three who after expressing his gratitude for the Festival confessed that as he wrote his older sister guided his hand. Retired military officers, local family groups and visitors from throughout the U.S. who chanced on that first Festival — all wrote to thank the Smithsonian for a gift of unpretentious human artistry. The press spoke passionately and the Congressional Record carried encomiums from both the House and Senate. The message — make the Festival an annual event. Within a year, shortly after the second Festival, legislation was drafted to establish a national center for the study and encouragement of folklife traditions throughout the U.S. Within a few more years, both Endowments had established programs to carry this work further. Just this past year, I signed an agreement for cooperative endeavors involving the Smithsonian, the Library of Congress Folklife Center and both Endowments. In the spirit of this agreement, our Renwick Gallery, this year, presented a highly successful exhibition of artifacts from the state of Oregon, Webfoots and Bunchgrassers — the Folk Arts of the Oregon Country, This exhibition was sponsored by the State Arts Council with help from the Arts Endowment. In the Museum of American History, we enjoyed the art and artifacts of Nevada ranchers in the Buckaroo exhibit which grew out of a joint field project involving the Smithsonian, the Library’s Folklife Center and the Arts Endowment in a collaborative endeavor. And at this summer's Festival, we take advantage of a rich collection of field discoveries made by the Folk Arts Program of the Arts Endowment by presenting a series of Festival concerts and demonstrations on the Mall. For a while, after the massive Bicentennial Festival — twelve weeks long, four million visitors, more than five thousand performers from the U.S. and 37 foreign countries — we questioned whether we need continue with our Festival. Now we realize that the petition with 7,000 names requesting that the Folklife Festival be continued was telling us that this is our perennial responsibility. We are to exhibit folklife in the halls of our museums throughout the year and to celebrate once each year on the National Mall the differences and similarities which enrich and strengthen the American people and, indeed, all peoples with whom we share this planet. Folklife Festival Shows America’s Great | N herita nce By Russell E. Dickenson Director, National Park Service The Festival of American Folklife has become a tradition in the Nation’s Capital that captures the essence of the diversified cultures comprising our great American society. Through its fifteen year history, the festival has been a “real people” program, telling the stories of this country’s people and her heritage. Every American citizen possesses a unique inheritance, and this cherished in- heritance is colorfully declared and celebrated during the festival. The National Park Service, which cares for more than 300 areas across our nation, is pleased to co-sponsor this annual celebration with the Smithsonian Institution. Visitors to the Festival can readily enjoy a glimpse of some of the events and customs that help make the American story. Every day programs are featured that provide an educational and entertaining insight into the heritage that makes America great — an insight into the many cultures that have come together throughout our 200 years of history and that make America proud and strong. New this year is the salute to the International Year of Disabled Persons. The National Park Service is particularly pleased to welcome the special program on the Folklore and Folklife of the Deaf, whose participants will present workshops on signing, storytelling, objects adapted for use by deaf people, and the experi- ences of interpreters. Children’s folklore, of course, has not been overlooked, and you may witness and enjoy their games, rhymes, and songs. Southeasterners will demonstrate their pottery, corncob dolls, and baskets. We hope you will be equally dazzled by the Kingbird Singers of Red Lake Reservation in Minnesota and by the musicians and dancers who will share with you their traditional South Slavic customs and dishes. Other groups fill each day’s programs and each brings with it a glimpse of America’s heritage. Indeed, the 1981 Festival promises to be another milestone in its history — another chapter in the American story that is your inheritance. Welcome to the 1981 Festival. SI Earl Nyholm ts an enrolled member of the Keeweenaw Bay Indian Reservation in northern Michigan. He is Assistant Professor of Ojibwe Language at Bemidji State University, Bemidji, Minn. A skilled craftsman, he specializes in birchbark canoe-making. PHOTOS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL ANTHROPOLOGICAL ARCHIVES The Use of Birchbark by the Ojibwa Indians by Earl Nyholm The Woodlands Indians comprised the many tribes from several different North American language stocks inhabiting the vast area extending from Ontario and Minnesota eastward to the Atlantic Ocean. The Ojibwa Indians, an Algonkian speaking Woodlands people, originally lived at the east end of Lake Superior. During the fur trade, they moved north- and westward until they had spread over the largest geographic area occupied by one tribal group in North America. During the 19th century, in this country they gradually ceded most of their land in treaties with the government and settled on numerous reservations, principally in Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan. White birchbark has been a vital resource for the Woodlands Indians for centuries. The bark of the common birch tree played a major role in everyday life of the tribes of the vast Woodlands area. Thinking of birchbark calls to mind the image of an Indian silently paddling a feather-light bark canoe across a moonlit lake (fig. A), but the canoe was only one of many functional and artistic uses to which wigwaas, as the Ojibwa called birchbark, was put. The bark products of the Ojibwa and other Algonquian- speaking people of the great Lakes area included large items such as canoes and mats for covering wigwams, and smaller objects — dishes, cookware and reli- gious scrolls. Even the most basic utensil made of birchbark was artistic in concept, and its design and decoration were considered an integral part of the creation. Both white and yellow birchbark grow in layers. However, Indians had little use for yellow birchbark because it was considered weak and thin, whereas Red Lake Nett Lake a Za Lake Superior | | Leech Lake Duluth Red Cliff Q White Earth a é Pia Fond du Lac s€ Bay Mills Mille Lacs i) Flambeau Lee Lac Court Oreilles Michigan ’ ee St. Croix Minneapolis-St. Paul oo Minnesota Wisconsin G Isabella a Michigan Madison oO Q Milwaukee ° Lansing white birchbark was stronger, often reaching the thickness of shoeleather. In late spring and early summer, sap moisture in the trees permitted easy removal of the bark. It could be taken from the tree in large sheets often measuring five m (sixteen ft.) or more in length and up to 1.1 m (three and a half ft.) wide. Smaller trees provided thinner bark which was ideal for small articles, such as dishes and winnowing trays for wild rice. Most completed birchbark crafts are not white but rather a golden brown. The inner side of the bark is placed on the outside of the item, for it is smoother and more attractive to the eye. (The white side tends to be lightly rough.) This reversal also provides longer life. Because birchbark is waterproof, no sealing material is required except to cover cuts or seams. Seams on containers for liquids were normally covered with pitch derived from white birch or black spruce trees with a touch of deer tallow added. Often a bit of finely pounded charcoal was mixed in to render the pitch a deep black. The oblong winnowing tray used in processing wild rice, a basic staple as well as a commodity of the Ojibwa, does not need to be seam-sealed with pitch. This container is exceptional in that the smooth side of the bark — the brown side — forms the inside. As with a makuk (which is described below), it is topped off with a wooden splint. Some items, such as mats for wigwam coverings and household containers, were sewn together with split spruce roots or the inner bark of basswood, known to the Ojibwa as “rope.” Sewing materials were always soaked first and kept wet while in use. When dry, they formed a tight stitch. Highly versatile, basswood bark was cut or torn into long, thin strips for sewing, or “spun” into cord. Traditionally, the basswood bark was dyed with natural colors from berries, roots, or the earth to give it a pleasing effect, but today the Ojibwa may use commercial coloring to avoid the laborious task of preparing the natural dyes. Wigwam covers overlapped slightly and were sewn together with split root ina simple over-under stitch. An awl was used to punch holes in the bark; the spruce root or the basswood bark, with its end cut to a point, was threaded and pulled through. Birchbark scrolls used in the Ojibwa religion (Midewiwin) were sewn together in similar fashion, and a form of pictographic writing was inscribed with a pointed instrument (fig.B). These inscriptions were highly symbolic and could be read only by trained practitioners. The Ojibwa fashion many kinds of baskets from birchbark. Some baskets, called makuks, have a square bottom with sides which slant in towards the top to form acircle (fig.C).The top is finished off with a split willow to prevent the bark from tearing. In July, when blueberries ripened, they made ideal berry pails; otherwise, makuks provided year-round containers for storing foodstuffs. To the amazement of some, these containers can actually be placed over a direct flame and will not burn as long as there is liquid inside them. 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MOUS jUaL seaq au} UeOHaluy $0 310|4)04 94} 40 uoneigajad JeId P41 JO aJOPyjod pur azy s,usspyD ‘aamyin9 Emqlo Stee aU UI OF:S-TT saj4ag 29ueq 8 PIPPI SWNTE syes, uaisrayinos jo uonony OISnyy snorsi]ay Jo yanu0D aoueq pue oISnW uJa}SeayLON sues WaIsPayNog jo uonony purg Suis ueryorjeddy ‘oyposel ‘saniq ‘jadsod ‘suonEuasaid msn SIsnW snorsiay jo 29u0D weis0ldg suy 4/04 quawmopuz suy SaqeS ye 7g wal uoniqnyxy quawunisut yeoisnua 33 Bunjinb ‘Sunprus >Prq ‘BULATED poom ‘duniod ‘Suneunayseq ‘Sunyewsreyo sAep |ye suon -ENISUOWAG yseayNos aut JO DIsnyy uOISsag PANPLIEN) UOISSIS SANTIIEN $9}e1S payun uJayseayynos 34} 40 syei9 pue oisn;w Participants in the 1981 Festival of American Folklife Adobe Architecture Joe Paul Concha: adobe oven maker and adobe brick maker — Taos Pueblo, NM Rose Concha: adobe oven maker and bread baker — Taos Pueblo, NM Fedelina Cruz: adobe plasterer — Taos, NM David Gutierrez: adobe builder — Albuquerque, NM Eloy Gutierrez: adobe builder and viga peeler — Albuquerque, NM Michael Gutierrez: adobe builder and wood carver — Albuquerque, NM Lawrence Lujan: adobe oven maker and adobe brick maker — Taos Pueblo, NM Lorencita Lujan: adobe oven maker and bread baker — Taos Pueblo, NM Crucita Mondragon: adobe oven maker and bread baker — Taos Pueblo, NM Albert D. Parra: adobe builder — Albuquerque, NM Albert R. Perez: adobe builder — Albuquerque, NM Hilario Roybal, Jr.: adobe builder — Silver City, NM Felipe A. Valdez: adobe builder — Fairview, NM Carmen Velarde: adobe fireplace builder — Ranchos de Taos, NM José Ramon Sanichez: adobe maker — Belen, NM The Arts Endowment Folk Arts Program John Alexander: lead and manager, Sterling Jubilee Singers — Bessemer, Alabama Jose Barrera: guitarist — Los Angeles, California Robert Borrell y su Kubata: Afro-Cuban music — Washington, D.C. Paul Brown: banjo player — Mt. Airy, N.C. Andy Cahan: banjo player — Mt. Airy, N.C. Liz Carroll: Irish fiddler — Chicago, II. Theofannis Charasiades: laouto — New York, N.Y. Eunise Cook: lead, Sterling Jubilee Singers — Bessemer, Alabama Hazel Dickens and Friends: bluegrass music — Washington, D.C. Michael Flatley: Irish step dancer/flute player — Chicago, Ill. Alice Gerrard: vocalist/guitarist — Garrett Park, MD. Jose Gutierrez: harpist — Los Angeles, CA. Achileas Halkias: fiddler/vocalist — New York, N.Y. Periklis Halkias: clarinetist — New York, N.Y. Henry Holston: tenor, Sterling Jubilee Singers - Bessemer, Alabama James Jackson: blues guitarist — Fairfax Station, VA. John Jackson: blues singer — Fairfax Station, VA. Tommy Jarrell: fiddler — Mt. Airy, N.C. Sam Johnson: lead, Sterling Jubilee Singers — Bessemer, Alabama So Khamvongsa and the Laotian Music Ensemble — Falls Church, VA. Sam Lewis: bass, Sterling Jubilee Singers — Birmingham, Alabama Tom Lacy: baritone, Sterling Jubilee Singers — Bessemer, Alabama Cesareo Ramon: jarana — Los Angeles, CA. Ioannis Roussos: santourri — New York, N.Y. Charlie Sayles: harmonica player — Philadelphia, PA. Sandman Sims: tap dancer — New York, N.Y. Dock Terry: lead, Sterling Jubilee Singers — Bessemer, Alabama Paul Van Arsdale: hammer dulcimer — North Tonawanda, N.Y. William Van Arsdale: guitar — North Tonawanda, N.Y. A Celebration of American Tent Shows Howard Armstrong: medicine show musician — Detroit, MI L.C. Armstrong: medicine show musician — Detroit, MI Fred Foster Bloodgood: medicine show pitchman — Madison, WI Betty Bryant: show boat performer — Park Ridge, IL Ken Griffin: tent show magician — Muncie, IN Roberta Griffin: tent show magician — Muncie, IN DeWitt “Snuffy” Jenkins: country music show musician — Columbia, SC Harold Lucas: country music show musician — Swansea, SC Marcy Maynard: repertoire show performer — Endicott, NY Tex Maynard: repertoire show performer — Endicott, NY Julian L. “Greasy” Medlin: medicine show and repertoire show performer — Columbia, SC Homer L. “Pappy’ Sherrill: country music show performer — Chapin, SC Children’s Folklore . Rosie Lee Allen: Quilt-maker — Homer, LA Amidon Elementary School: Children’ S Games — Washington, DC Pauline Becker: Doll maker — Elkins, WVA 5 ; a la i i i ee eee, Bowen Elementary School: Children’s ie Folk Art — Washington, DC ; Brent Elementary School: Children’s Games — Washington, DC Me Brightwood Elementary School: Oa aRe 5 Children’s Games, Hispanic American rt Games — Washington, DC Gee Bunker Hill Elementary School: Children’ Games — Washington, DC . q Burroughs Elementary School: Children’s Hs oA Games — Washington, DC ee Clark Elementary School: Children’s Baer Games — Washington, DC A a Cooke Elementary School: Children’s. Games — Washington, DC ioe Joanne Erlebacher: Listening Horn _ Productions — Arlington, VA Girl Scout Troop #2776: Hispanic American Games - Washington, DC — Glebe Elementary School: Children’: s Folk Art — Arlington, VA Marcy Grace: Listening Horn Producten — Potomac, MD Chere Katz: Listening Horn Productions - - Rockville, MD Kingman Boys’ Club: Children’s ‘Gaines - Washington, DC Langdon Elementary School: Children’s Games — Washington, DC Model Secondary School For The Deaf Children’s Games — Washington, DC Shepherd Elementary School: Children’s Games — Washington, DC Slowe Elementary School: Children’s Games — Washington, DC Stevens Elementary School: Children’s _ Games — Washington, DC Rev. Daniel Womack: Storyteller — Roanoke, VA Woodridge Regional Library: Children’s Games — Washington, DC Edna Faye Young: doll maker — Westminster, MD Robert Kenyatta: The Drama, Drum, and Dance Ensemble — Philadelphia, PA Marilyn Porter: The Drama, Drum, and Dance Ensemble — Philadelphia, PA tal The Drama, Drum, and Dance Bnsen ie Tee — Philadelphia, PA ‘ Music and Crafts from the Southeastern United States David Allen: walking stick carver - Homer, LA € Linda Bowers: Seminole jacket maker — Clewiston, FL 7 Charles Christian: chair maker — Mt. Judea, AR Lucreaty Clark: basket maker — Lamont, A Burlon B. Craig: potter — Vale, NC ‘ x es ON ba ; . ae ee ee Ee ee eee ee het ye a ae ee ee ee OT potter - _vale, NC musical instrument maker — I — Charenton, LA y ee wood carver — en KY cache: pianist — Barre, VT am, MA Chaisson: quadrille caller Essex Junction, Vr Guillemette: fiddler — Sanford, MA ph Higgins dance caller — Huntington, an mi ny ; Kaynor: fiddler/prompter — ntague, MA id Kaynor: fiddler — Belchertown, MA Landry:pianist — Marlboro, MA ntire: melodian/harmonica — me M 1 ‘Robichaud: step Banter Wa tham, MA es Richford, VT . Anderson: birchbark basket maker ech Lake Reservation, MN ie Benjamen: rush rug maker, hide er — Mille Lacs Reservation, MN _ Marilee Benjamen: beadwork, costume- __ maker, dancer — Mille Lacs Reservation, MN Penbth pipe carver — : ‘Earth Reservation, MN McKinley Kingbird: singer — Red Lake Reservation, MN George McGeshick: singer, birchbark canoe construction, wild rice preparation — Mole Lake Reservation, WI Mary McGeshick: beadwork, moccasin maker, wild rice preparation — Mole Lake Reservation, WI John Nahgahgwon: black ash basketmaker — Ausable, MI Susan Nahgahgwon: black ash basketmaker — Ausable, MI Ernie St. Germaine: wigwam construction, singer — Lac du Flambeau Reservation, WI South Slavic American Program Balkan Four William Cvetnic: musician — Pittsburgh, PA Nick Kisan: musician —- McKeesport, PA Walter Naglich: musician — Mount Pleasant, PA Dan Puhala: musician - McKeesport, PA Balkan Tamburitzans Stevan Petrovich: musician — Milwaukee, W1 Mark Richards: musician — Milwaukee, WI Steven Richards: musician — Milewaukee, WI Marko Stojsavljevic: musician — West Allis, WI Beogradski Suveniri Kevin Ray: musician — Mundelein, IL Hasan Redzovic: singer — Chicago, IL Goran Stevanovich: musician — Mundelein, IL Srdjan Stevanovich: musician — Mundelein, IL Makedonski Trubaduri Poliskena Ilievska: dancer — Lorain, OH Ljubomir Ilievski — Lorain, OH Bob Jankulovski: musician — Lorain, OH Violeta Jankulovski: dancer — Lorain, OH Thomas Jovanovski: musician, singer — Lorain, OH Kire Nickoloff: musician, singer, dancer — Elyria, OH Kire Stevoff: dancer — Elyria, OH Kosta Vasilevski: dancer — Lorain, OH St. Sava Kolo Dancers Darlene Lalich: Director — Milwaukee, WI Jasmin Edward Fujs: musician — Euclid, OH Thomas Gasser: musician — Cleveland, OH Scott Hunter: musician — Wickliffe, OH Eric Raymond Kosten: musician — Euclid,OH Roger Mikolander: musician — Cleveland, OH John Nemec: musician — Cleveland, OH Crafts Milan Opacich: craftsperson, musician — Schererville, IN Nickola Tokic: craftsperson —- Tokoma Park, MD Southeastern Crafts Exhibition: Exhibitors Melvin Owens: Pottery - Seagrove, NC Robert Brown: Pottery — Arden, NC Lanier Meaders: Pottery — Cleveland, GA Daniel Garner: Pottery — Robbins, NC Charles Craven: Pottery — Robbins, NC Hobart Garner: Pottery — Robbins, NC Burlon Craig: Pottery — Vale, NC Vernon Owens: Pottery — Seagrove, NC Mary Livingston: Pottery — Seagrove, NC David Farrell: Pottery — Seagrove, NC Wayman Cole: Pottery — Seagrove, NC Walter Cornelison: Pottery — Waco, KY Dorothy Auman: Pottery — Seagrove, NC John Wiltshire: Carvings — Coffee County, T™N Dicie Malone: Corn Shuck Mat — Knox County, NC Mrs. Blaine Whitaker: Corn Shuck Bonnet — Henderson County, NC Fairy Moody: Corn Shuck Creche — Ashe County, NC Dieudonne Montoucet: Cajun Triangle: Scott, LA Napolean Strickland: Cane Fife - Como, MS Clifford Glenn: Banjo & Dulcimer — Sugar Grove, NC Dewey Shepherd: Gourd Fiddle - David, KY Edsel Martin: Dulcimer — Old Fort, NC Albert Hash: Fiddle — Mouth of Wilson, VA Audrey Hash Miller: Dulcimer — Mouth of Wilson, VA Mr. Mabry: Wood Carvings — Stone County, AR Willard Watson: Wood Carvings — Watauga County, NC Donny Tolson: Wood Carvings — Campton, KY David Allen: Wood Carvings — Homer, LA Dallas Bump: Furniture — Royal, AR Charlie Christian: Furniture — Mount Judea, AR Jack McCutcheon: Furniture — Mount Judea, AR Lee Willie Nabors: Furniture — Okolona, MS Bill McClure: Furniture — Bloss, KY Amanda Palmer: Baskets — Mount Pleasant, SC Susan Peoples: Baskets —- Aragon, GA Mildred Youngblood: Baskets — Woodbury, TN Eva Wolfe: Baskets —- Cherokee, NC Carol Welch: Baskets — Cherokee, NC Agnes Welch: Baskets — Cherokee, NC Dolly Taylor: Baskets - Cherokee, NC Geneva Ledford: Baskets — Cherokee, NC Ada Thomas: Baskets — Charenton, LA Lucreaty Clark: Baskets — Lamont, FL Edna Langley: Baskets — Elton, LA Earnest Patton: Wood Carvings — Compton, KY Louise Jones: Baskets — Mt. Pleasant, SC Floyd Harmon: Baskets — Ocean City, MD Goodwin Family Weavers — Blowing Rock, NC Pecolia Warner: Quilt — Yazoo City, MS Ora Watson: Quilts — Watauga County, NC Linda Bowers: Seminole jacket — Clewiston, FL Sally Tommie: Seminole jacket - Clewiston, FL Philip Simmons: Metal Work — Charleston, SG Phipps Bourne: Metal Work — Elk Creek, VA Erwin Thieberger: Metal Work — Wheaton, MD James Barnwell: Metal Work — Henderson Cty., NC Pete Howell: Metal Work — Yancey County, NC To Hear a Hand: Folklore and Folklife of the Deaf William Ennis:signlore and storytelling — Greenbelt, MD Tom Fields: demonstration of deaf technology, storytelling — Rockville, MD Jack R. Gannon: signlore and storytelling — Silver Spring, MD Barbara Kannapell: signlore and storytelling — Washington, D.C. Ella Mae Lentz: signlore poetry, lecturer — Landover Hills, MD Don Pettingill: signlore and storytelling — Seabrook, MD Jan de Lap and Studio 101: traditional folk theater — Washington, D.C. John Mark Ennis: interpreter — Cheverly, MD Supply Coordinator: Dorothy Neumann Volunteer Coordinator: Magdalena Gilinsky Assistant: Anne Labovitz Children’s Area Coordinator: Jean Alexander Crafts Coordinator: Lorna Williams Festival Stage Coordinators: Nick Hawes, Robert Teske Technical Director: Paul Squire Crew Chief: Fred Price Grounds Crew: Reina Getz, Robert Leavell, Siaki Leoso, Steven Martinetti, Terrance Meniefield, Jake Parisien, Katherine Porterfield, Elaine Reinhold, William Tibble, Lisa Falk, Van Merz, Rebecca Miller, Franklin Poindexter Photographers: Richard Hofmeister, Kim Nielsen, Dane Penland, Jeff Ploskonka, Jeff Tinsley Sound Crew Chief: Mike Herter Sound Technicians: Bob Carlin, Mathieu Chabert, Peter Derbyshire, Steve Green, Charles M. Dietz: interpreter — Alexandria,VA__ Gregg Lamping, Al McKenney, Harriet Sheila Grenell: interpreter — Silver Spring, MD Moss, Peter Reiniger, Mike Rivers, Shirley Shultz: interpreter —- Washington, D.C. Debbie Sonnenstrahl: storyteller — Washington, D.C. Festival Staff Participant Coordinator: Mary Azoy Assistants: Asenith Mayberry, Leslie Stein Assistant Designer: Linda McKnight Program Assistants: Amanda Dargan, Larry Deemer, Donna Guerra, Susan Manos, Patricia Huntington Festival Aides: Susan Levitas, Michael Boden Sandstrom, Keith Secola Public Information: Kathryn Lindeman, Linda St. Thomas, Abby Wasserman Fiscal Liaison: Chip Albertson Risk Management Liaison: Alice Bryan Clerk Typist: Josephine Morris Fieldworkers/Presenters Erdye Betrand Peggy Bulger Simon Carmel Marcia Freeman Nick Hawes Glen Hinson Geraldine Johnson Walter Mahovlich Richard March Brooks McNamara Peter Nabokov Alyce Newkirk Earl Nyholm Jo Radner Kate Rinzler Robert Sayers Daniel Sheehy Robert Teske Margaret Yocom Internal Office Support Accounting Supply Services OPLANTS Grants & Risk Management Division of Performing Arts Photographic Services Communications & Transportation Travel Services Exhibits Central Audio-Visual Unit Museum Programs Security & Protection Membership & Development Horticulture Congressional & Public Information Elementary & Secondary Education Grants & Fellowships Contracts Anthropological Film Center Henderson Monica Goubaud Radio Smithsonian S pecial Thanks Bev Bergeron Bill Ferris George Reynolds Dr. Frederick Crane Chuyck & Nan Purdue Steve Richmond Library of Congress, American Folklife Jimmy Davis Dan Patterson Sue Ford Center Joe McKennon Lynn Montell Mary Morton National Council of Traditional Arts Museum of Repertoire Americana Yvonne Milspaw Bonnie Lloyd Giant Foods Mrs. Harold Rossier Ed Cabbel William Lumpkins U.S. Forest Service, Albuquerque Caroline Schaffner George Holt Charles Lange G Street Remnant Shop Dr. William Slout Judy Peiser Ernest Sanchez Good Humor Sally Sommer George McDaniel Barry Ancelet W. Curtis Draper Tabaccanist Brenda McCallum Roddy Moore Betty Dupree Danneman’s Fabric Shops The Balkan Arts Center Jerry Parsons Linda Farve Yarns and Twines Andrea Graham Kip Lornell Stephen Richmond The Woolgatherer Roddy Moore Worth Long New Mexico Earth Industries Ross Rinaldi of Arlington Woodworking Kar] Signell Henry Willett The Solar Mart and Lumber Company George Nierenberg Phillip Werndli Ernest Thompson Furniture Virginia Hamilton of Arlington Les Blank Nicholas Spitzer Groff Lumber Co., Inc. Woodworking and Lumber Company Frank Semmens Charles Camp US. Forest Service, Albuquerque Bill Gichner of Iron Age Antiques Leonard Kamerling Paula Tadlock Laura Greenberg Fr. Milan Markovina Pat Ferrero Fred Fussell Susan Roach-Lankford Rudy Perpich Tony DiNonno Nancy Pye Bess Hawes Bernard Luketich Anthony Slone Bill McNeil Patricia Navarette Lorraine Matko Herb E. Smith Patti Carr Black P.G. McHenry Linda Bennett Jack Parsons Jane Sapp George Otero Mary Mejac Yasha Aginsky Larry Hackley Kitty Otero Edward Yambrusic Jean Walkinshaw Bobby Fulcher Karen Young Olga Gurich Joe Tibbets Alfonzo Ortiz Ed Smith Judith Krizmanich Rick Homans Arthur Olivas Joe Quanchilla Maggie Taleff Bernard Fontana Ellen Horn Eight Northern Pueblos Vladimir N. Pregelj Adobe Today Laura Holt Community Alcoholism Ctr. Dr. Cliff Ashby Marta Weigel Robert Easton Auctioneers: Weschler’s, Sloan's Bunny Bartok Jim Griffith J.B. Jackson catia its For deat children, the most urgent problem is communication. More than 90% of deaf children are born into families whose members are all hearing. These children cannot acquire spoken language as other children do, in the normal course of growing up; for them, training in speech and lip reading will last throughout their school years. In the meantime, they may have no common lan- guage with their families. Many schools for the deaf, hoping to break the “silence barrier” during the crucial early learning years, now sponsor pre-school pro- grams to train parents to sign with their small children. eee people still rely chiefly on face-to-face communication. They are intensely gre- garious; news and stories travel with lightning speed. As Leo Jacobs has said, even in a large metropolitan area the deaf community “maintains the warm, close-knit, and folksy atmosphere of a small town or village where everyone is acquainted with everybody else.” Nearly 90% of deaf people’s marriages are with deaf partners; deaf adults run and enthusiastically support their own social clubs, athletic clubs, theatrical groups, business and political organizations, church groups, newspapers, and magazines. Social ties in the deaf world often start very early in life, in special residential or day schools (though this pattern is slowly changing as “mainstreaming” becomes common) — and they last a life- time. These are the places, these clubs, schools, and local social gatherings, where deaf folklore flourishes. To be sure, some deaf people choose not to participate in Deaf Culture. These individuals never take up sign communication and mingle very little with deaf social groups, preferring to identify themselves more closely with hearing socie- ty. But the great majority of the profoundly deaf — at least 1% million — use sign language with one another and cherish it, accept Deaf Culture and society as a positive value, and share with their fellows the stories, customs, and pastimes that proclaim that their way of life is something to be proud of. The deaf are — and see themselves as — resourceful and inventive people. There have been some prominent inventors among them (one was John R. Gregg, the Scottish inventor of shorthand), but to list only the famous is to overlook every deaf person’s day-to-day inventiveness needed to survive in the alien world of invisible sound. Coping strategies are celebrated in countless stories and re- flected in customs. How, for instance, did deaf people manage to wake up on time in the morning before modern technology provided flashing-light alarm clocks? They taught one another to rig up marvelous (and truly “alarming” ) devices, some even more bizarre than the one a widely known tale attributes to nN nN Deaf people are very sensitive to strong vibrations — felt through a wooden floor, through the air, through their bodies. They use this sensitivity in ingenious ways. At Gallaudet College, for instance, a large bass drum is used to send percussive signals to the deaf football team during games. Deaf football has produced other ingenious innovations, too: the huddle, for instance, was devised in 1890 to enable the deaf team to hide its sign-language conferences from its opponents. a long-ago deaf miner in Montana: This deaf miner used a string-and pulley arrangement which suspended an old, heavy flatiron near the ceiling of his bedroom during the night. When morning came, the winding stem of his alarm clock would trip a release, permitting the iron to fall to the floor with an impact that would waken anyone. As time went on, the deaf man’s alarm clock became a tradition in the mining town, and all the miners came to depend on its reliable BOOM to start them off to work. Then there came a day when the deaf miner got married, and he and his bride took off for a three-day honeymoon. What did they find when they returned to the town? No work had been done in the mines for three days. All the miners were blissfully snoring away, awaiting the flatiron’s fall! No matter where they live or what jobs they hold, no matter what their race, religion, age, or gender, deaf people share similar outlooks and problems living in a hearing world whose messages are garbled and invisible, trying to speak a language never heard, contending daily with stereotypes of the deaf as irrational simpletons to be avoided or, worse yet, to be paternalistically protected. Tales like that of the miner, passed from hand to hand in the community, powerfully contradict the outside stereotypes. In such stories — and there is a vast reper- toire of them — the deaf assert to each other their own strength and resourceful- ness and achievements, laugh at situations in which the Hearing turn out to be dependent, misunderstanding bumblers, and share rueful chuckles at the “haz- ards of deafness.” Other stories insist that deaf culture be recognized and re- spected. In one, a deaf tree, its trunk chopped through, stubbornly refuses to topple when the logger shouts “Timber!” It finally cooperates only when a properly-trained tree doctor is summoned to diagnose the “handicap” and finger- spells “T-I-M-B-E-R!” in the tree’s own language. In recognition of the International Year of Disabled Persons, the 1981 Festi- val of American Folklife will feature a program presenting the folklore and folk- life of the deaf. Every day during the Festival, deaf participants will perform their signlore, tell stories and jokes that emerge from Deaf Culture, and discuss their experiences growing up deaf. American Sign Language will be taught in work- shops to Festival visitors. Working models of the homemade devices deaf peo- ple have invented to substitute for alarm clocks and doorbells will be demon- strated, along with the special technology of deaf culture such as a TTY, a machine that allows deaf people to make phone calls. A special area for collecting deaf folklore on videotape will be available to all deaf visitors to the Festival, so if you are deaf, and know any jokes, riddles, stories, or puns, please come to the Deaf Folklore and Folklife Area and share them with us. Deafness brings a theatrical gift. In addition to their informal sign language storytelling and performances of skits at many social occasions (banquets, con- ventions, school gatherings, social or athletic clubs), deaf people enjoy and per- form plays in American Sign Language in local community theaters for the deaf. If audiences include hearing people unfamiliar with ASL, voice interpreters are provided. Suggested Reading American Sign Language Baker, Charlotte, and Robbin Battison. Sign Language and the Deaf Community. Silver Spring, Md.: National Association of the Deaf, 1980. Baker, Charlotte, and Dennis Cokely. American Sign Language: A Teacher's Resource Guide on Grammar and Culture. Silver Spring, Md.: TJ. Publishers, 1980. Baker, Charlotte, and Dennis Cokely. American Sign Language: A Student Text. 3 vols. Silver Spring, Md.: TJ. Publishers, 1980 Children’s Television Workshop. Sesame Street Sign Language Fun. New York: Random House, 1980. Klima, Edward, and Ursula Bellugi. The Signs of Language. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univer- sity Press, 1979. Deaf Culture Becker, Gaylene. Growing Old in Silence. Berkeley, Calif: University of California Press, 1980. Benderly, Beryl Lieff. Dancing Without Music: Deafness in America. Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Press, Doubleday, 1980. Braddock, Guilbert C. Notable Deaf Persons. Washington, D.C.: Gallaudet College Alumni Association, 1975. Greenberg, Joanne /n This Sign. New York: Avon Books, 1972 Holcomb, Roy K. Hazards of Deafness. North- ridge, California: Joyce Media, Inc., 1977. Jacobs, Leo. A Deaf Adult Speaks Out. Washing- ton, D.C.: Gallaudet College Press, 1974 Spradley, Thomas S., and James P. Spradley. Deaf Like Me. New York: Random House, 1978. Watson, Douglas, ed. Readings on Deafness. New York: Deafness Research and Training Center, New York University School of Educa- tion, 1973 Woods, W.H. The Forgotten People. St. Peters- burg, Fla.: Dixie Press, 1973. “My eyes are my ears,” says a deaf person. American Sign Language, the third most widely used non-English language in the United States, “speaks” to the eyes alone. Each of these photographs shows a frozen moment in an ASL sign, and through these we may get some idea of the complexity of sign communication. It’s not a matter of hand shape and gesture alone; the entire body communicates — by posture, by degree of tension, by direction of movement, and, especially, by facial expression. love crying embarrassment Adobe: An Ancient Folk Technology By Peter Nabokov In the ancient world, Arabs mixed sand, clay, water, and a vegetal binding material to make al-tob. The Spanish, principally because of contact with the Arabic Moors of North Africa, knew the process and called it adobe. When they arrived in the New World, the Spanish colonists found that the Indians in the Southwest had been using the same process for centuries. Today, we still know it by its Spanish name: adobe. It is not surprising that the Spanish and Indians shared an affinity for building with adobe. The basic materials used to make it were common to both continents. In addition, it had unique qualities that made it an ideal building material for arid climates. During the day, adobe absorbed the heat of the sun, leaving the house interior much cooler than the outside. As the outside air cooled in the evening, the walls reflected the stored heat into the houses, taking the chill off the night air. Adobe was also an infinitely adaptable construction medium: it could be shaped in many forms to meet a wide range of social, cultural, and physical housing needs. Indians throughout the Southwest employed a variety of earth-building techniques. Since A.D. 350, they constructed pit houses, which were partly excavated homes with rounded corners, tunnel entrances, and roofs made of earth atop a frame and with underblanket. Later, as they started to build surface structures, this pit house was retained in altered form as the Riva, a religious building still hallowed throughout the Southwest. Simultaneously, the early natives here developed a range of techniques for building with mud. Their cliff dwellings often had wattle-and-daub walling. They smeared mud into a fence of interwoven willow rods or they built in the jacal style, cramming adobe mixture between upright posts. More commonly, they Peter Nabokov ts a Research Associate for the Museum of the American Indian. He has writ- ten extensively, bis most recent work being, Native American Testimony: An Anthology of Indian and White Relations. Forthcoming works include Native American Architecture to be published in 1982 by Oxford University Press with Robert Easton; and Indian Running, a study of ritual and athletics throughout the Americas, to be published this fall by Capra Press. 1Taos Pueblo in 1899. pHoto couRTESY SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, NATIONAL ANTHROPOLOGICAL ARCHIVES 2Taos Pueblo, ca. 1910. PHOTO COURTESY SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, NATIONAL ANTHROPOLOGICAL ARCHIVES. bo SA 1Men constructing modern adobe house with traditional sun dried adobe bricks.PHOTO COURTESY CHARLES H. LANGE. 2Woman plastering house at Cochiti, 1951. PHOTO COURTESY CHARLES H. LANGE 3Taos woman seated at horno. PHOTO COURTESY SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, NATIONAL ANTHROPOLOGICAL ARCHIVES. piled up sandstone, lime, or volcanic rocks (sometimes faced) and steadied them in place with mud mortar. Along the Gila and Salt rivers they employed a so-called pise or “puddled adobe” method. They used a wattle-work box as a type of mold, then built up adobe .5 m (20 in.) high bands. Walls sometimes reached a height of 8 m (30 ft.). While these Indians never made adobe bricks with wooden forms — the Spanish way — they handmade the so-called “Vienna roll” loaves, which they squashed in layers to build up walls, or they patted mud into rounded “turtle back” bricks. Using an east-west axis, the Indians early on oriented their connecting houses to exploit the sun. Still other considerations helped determine the form of their villages. Defense was one concern and community was another. Their social and religious life revolved around “centrality.” The Indians liked to build around the hallowed kivas and to center domains, linking them to their origins in a world beneath this one. Thus their towns became multi-storied, with sleeping chambers facing south to make the most of the winter sun. Dance plazas and kivas generally faced inward. Equally vital to pueblo architecture were their codes for building and using space. Some of these customs were borrowed by Hispanic colonizers who built homesteads in northern New Mexico and southern Colorado during the late-18th and 19th centuries. For their part, the Indians absorbed some Spanish ideas. From this interchange came the tradition today called the “pueblo” style. Before this exchange was commonplace, however, the two peoples experi- enced discord. In 1680 the Pueblos rebelled against nearly a century of harsh, religious oppression. In their great revolt that August they united to drive all Spanish from their territory. The Spaniards reconquered most of the region a dozen years later, chastening the Indians. Thereafter , their cultures coexisted more equally. The partial blending of Indian and Hispanic worlds found architectural expression. In the Hispanic hamlets of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and the San Luis Valley, new modes were picked up. The Hispanic people seemed to assume the Indian habit of allocating to women the critical finishing work of plastering. The women organized a loose guild and were known as enjarradoras. These women applied the adobe slip, alisando and hand smoothed it into swirling patina. At some pueblos, like Taos, women always “owned” the home and were the fashioners of its final form and coloring. They were also responsible for general maintenance of the entire village. The Taos men, their characteristic shawls furled on top of their heads like turbans, would mix adobe for the women when they replastered before the San Geronimo fiesta in the early autumn. In the Hispanic villages, the adobe mixers were known as suqueteros. They prepared the swquete with rakes and bare feet — careful in some regions to mix in only straw that had been finely ground by livestock. The buildings they helped construct differed from the Indians’ in style. They were in a line (not grouped around a center) or shaped in an L form. Generally Hispanics lived in far-flung homesteads, coming to trade in a central plaza. In their ranches a variety of free-standing structures could be seen: dispensas for storing grain; the fuerte of jacal construction for holding tools and tackle; a barbacoa for cornstalks; log structures such as the ¢apiesta; a raised platform; the two-story tasolera which held forage above and sheltered animals below; and the cochera for a wagon. There were also the mysterious moradas where members of the Penitente religious brotherhood held their meetings and the occasional torreone, the New World survival of the castle for defense. Most Hispanic adobe houses had flat roofs with a slight tilt to the earth for rain runoff. But in the mountainous Mora, San Miguel, and Rio Arriba counties,they were pitched, allowing for a gable story called an alto. Most Pueblos were attracted to certain features of the Spanish tradition. They began to mold their own bricks, using the Spanish wooden form. An exception were the Hopi who, until this century held onto their stone and mud-masonry tradition. (The Hopi were not reconquered by the Spanish after the 1680 rebellion. ) Nearly all the Pueblo peoples adopted the Spanish fireplace and chimney. Before this, Indian homes had been heated by central fire hearths; smoke exited from the ladder hatch where one entered through the roof. The Indians placed their choice of fogon, the Spanish-style fireplace, in the middle of a wall or at corners where it seemed to blister out above the floor. They might prop up a fireplace hood with posts or cantilever it. They also adopted the horno, the beehive-shaped outdoor ovens, to let their own unleavened corn bread, formerly peeled from a heated stone into parchment-like rolls, rise into baked loaves; these ovens became fixtures of the Pueblo village. To be sure, the Southwest was not the only adobe-using region. To the east, where humidity was too high to let adobe bricks dry in the sun within a reasonable time, a form was placed for the wall and earth was “rammed?” into it. The mold was lifted as the walls grew. In California,sea-shell plaster replaced the special earths that were sought by Hispanic women: Tierra Amarilla or Tierra Colorado (for a yellowish or reddish interior) or Tierra Vallita (for a suede-like Judd, Neil M San Geronimo Day, Taos Pueblo, Ca. 1926. PHOTO COURTESY SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, NATIONAL ANTHROPOLOGICAL ARCHIVES Suggested Readings Bunting, Bainbridge Early Architecture in New Mexico Uniy. of N.M. Press: Albuquerque, 1976. The Use of Adobe in Prebis- toric Dwellings of the Southwest Vhe Holmes Anniversary Volume. Mindcleff, Victor. A Study of Pueblo Architec- ture in Tusayan and Cibola Smithsonian Inst, 8th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Washington, D.C., 1891, McHenry, Paul Graham, Jr.. Adobe: Build It Yourself Uniy. of Arizona Press: Tucson, Arizona, Second Printing 1974. Smith, Edward W. Adobe Brick Production in New Mexico, New Mexico Geology Science and Service Vol. 3, #2, (May 1981). New Mexico Bureau of Mines and Mineral Resources Socorro, New Mexico exterior ). Sea shells were smashed up and burned until they turned to lime; the plaster was then mixed up and applied. To make flooring, the ground was first dampened, then spread with bull’s blood to harden it; the process was repeated each year. Travelers through northern New Mexico can still occasionally find old adobes with .8m (30 in.) thick walls crumbling picturesquely. Their roofs are no longer of wood but rather of rusting, corrugated iron. Around the turn of the century they sported “gingerbread” woodwork trim, often mail-ordered. At that time it seemed that the adobe tradition might become an industry. One famous adobero, Abencio Salazar, hand built a great number of adobe buildings around Albuquerque, among them a 110m (12,000 sq. ft.) school that stands today. It is said he could lay 1000 adobes a day. He used a “woven” technique for alternating the alignment of his tiers of bricks, resulting in thicker, sturdier walls. But adobe gave way before the demand for lighter, synthetic building materials. Today's adobe makers are small-scale home builders with a passion for the aesthetics and history of the material as well as its ancient virtues of providing coolness and warmth in their arid land. They have innovated new techniques of brick making and its use, even building solar adobes. Pueblo architectural traditions are very much alive today. When plastering takes place at Hopi villages, it occurs in the old way, especially for the ritual upkeep of their underground kivas. At most pueblos, prayer sticks are planted at key places during construction to consecrate the finished house. One of the most impressive rituals happens in December at the Zuni Pueblo. Six 3m(10ft.) spirit figures, known as Shalako, visit the villages to bless the houses and renew the Zuni world. During the ceremony, one god-like figure utters this prayer: Then in the middle of my father’s roof, With two plume wands joined together, I consecrated the center of his roof: This is well; In order that my father’s offspring may increase I consecrated the center of his roof. And then also, the center of my father’s floor, With seeds of all kinds, I consecrated the center of his floor. Preserving Folk Arts The National Endowment for The Arts, Folk Arts Program by Bess Lomax Hawes What are folk arts? Most of us think: ¢ Folk arts are simple. They are easy and childlike; “anyone can play”; they represent the democratic ethos at its best. ¢ Folk arts are natural. They are innate, inborn, arising out of the general human condition, out of universal feelings and perceptions. ¢ Folk arts are unsophisticated. They may be a bit crude, but this is because they occur spontaneously, free of restrictions. They are the ultimate expression of the individual psyche, uninstructed and untaught. ¢ Folk arts are dead. They are what our great-grandparents did long long ago in the Elysian age when things were (somehow) easier, and when the simple, natural, and unsophisticated ways could (somehow) persevere. The Folk Arts Program at the National Endowment for the Arts has not found this description true. Instead, we discover, as we look around our diverse nation, that: ¢ Folk arts are complex. In our apprenticeship program, every report tells us that there is far more to learn than the neophyte has expected. The great guitarists, lace-makers, and step-dancers make it look easy, but mastering the art and the essence of the style is a long-term job that requires a serious commitment. ¢ Folk arts are culturally specific. In every one of our multi-cultural urban festivals, each ethnic or tribal group likes to demonstrate its own special aesthetic vision, its own particular artistic life. The single truly universal principle appears to be mutual appreciation. As one of our most honored grantees, the great Black singer, Mrs. Bessie Jones, once remarked: “I just love to hear people play their own music because they do it so well!” ¢ Folk arts are sophisticated. Each master craftsman, each master musician, works from a tradition so complex and so artfully refined over generations that it takes the most careful documentation to capture it for our future benefit. Ukrainian egg-painters can distinguish their work from that of Polish or Russian egg-painters at a glance. The rest of us, untutored and naive, require thorough, sometimes even scholarly, explanations to guide us through the mysteries. ¢ Folk arts are alive. Indeed, in many places and among many groups, they are growing. It is true that each week — sometimes, it seems, each day — we lose another old master; it is that which makes our work seem ever more urgent. Still, the young people are always with us, and they seem, at this time, to be re- evaluating the past, to be learning from it, to be using it as a springboard for new artistic adventures. To support these complicated, culturally specialized, urbane, and lively arts, the Folk Arts Program has formed its strategies after the classic models: from the Little Tailor in the Grimms’ fairy tales, from Monkey, from Hodje, from B’rer Rabbit, from Coyote. We try to be quick and clever and creative; we try, above all, to keep single-minded. We have only one goal: to help preserve the very highest forms of the multiple aesthetic systems that make life in these United States joyful and exciting. “Multiple” is the important word. Other programs within the Endowment endeavor to sponsor variation and creativity by nurturing individual talent, the private visions of the independent and self-motivated artist. Folk Arts has a dif- ferent task: the fostering and nurturing of whole aesthetic systems. That these Originally published in the 1979 Annual Report of the National Endowment for the Arts, pp. 85-80. Bess Lomax Hawes ts the Director of the Folk Arts Program of the National Endowment for the Arts. She has taught folklore at the Cali- fornia State University at Northridge, and has been a Deputy Director of The Festival of American Folklife. Her publications include, with co-author Bessie Jones, Step It Down: Games, Plays, Songs, and Stories from the Afro- American Heritage. ZL PHOTO COURTESY NORTH CAROLINA DEPT. O RESOURCES ees CULTURAL Rael aN et in dy cs 3 ea Lat Eat De 7 | ae a eae = » Spee sea oy! . S 1980 PHOTO BY JIM GRIFFITH, COURTESY OF THE SOUTHWEST FOLKLORE CE! NTER ‘ ee qoland \ ster taineyS Trave 3 av PHOTO BY SUZI JONES systems exist is enough to enliven everyday life in the present. Their develop- ment may well enlighten the future that awaits us. We look to the past to inform the present and make the future more elegant. It is not a simple job; and, naturally, we make mistakes every day. Naturally, too, we prefer to talk about our successes: our Irish-American tour that for two years has brought the very finest of traditional Irish musicians and dancers into com- munities across the United States; our folk arts coordinator program that has to date placed full-time folk arts advocates in central positions in 15 state govern- ments; our documentary activities that have produced such widely shared films as No Maps on my Taps, on Black tap dancers, or The Popovich Brothers of South Chicago, on a Serbian-American musical family. Our quieter grants have a special importance too: our sponsorship of small local festivals in sites as remote as St. Simon’s Island, Georgia; Zion National Park, Utah; Topeka, Kansas; and Hallowell, Maine; our Folk-Artists-in-Schools programs in Ohio, North Carolina, and Alabama. We are proud, too, of our “special” grants: to support, through a series of workshops for younger tribal members, the skin-sewing skills of Alaskan Eskimos; to help the Basques of our western states retain their ancestral musical skills through teaching their young people to play the éxistu, their traditional flute; to encourage Mexican-American traditional song-compositional styles by means of support to a series of radio programs broadcasting traditional contemporary California corridos (narrative songs about actual events). We support Mexican- American mariachi teachers, Black blues pickers, German-American hammer dulcimer makers, New Mexico Hispanic tinsmiths, and Native-American Klicketat basketweavers. We try to use our federal monies creatively. One of our proudest discoveries is that during the years of the Folk Arts Program’s existence, we have funded only five organizations on an annual basis. Many of the groups that we help take pride in telling us good-bye: “We had a real nice festival (or concert series or workship or exhibit), and we raised enough money so that we don’t have to come back to you next year.” We tell them. “So long, and Godspeed; remember us if you ever need us again.” Then we turn our attention to the next of the myriad of regional or cultural groups in our incredibly varied nation that need a little encouragement to remain themselves, to retain their uniqueness, to honor and revere their artistic pasts-presents-futures, to keep American cultural diversity and creativity alive and well. 31 Richard March is a PhD candidate in Folklore at Indiana University, and has completed a dis- sertation entitled: Tamburitza Tradition. He has studied and conducted extensive fieldwork in Yugoslavia. He ts currently the Director of Community Education programs at a local community center in Milwaukee. Richard serves as a consultant, fieldworker, and pre- senter for the Smithsonian Festival of American Folklife. South Slavic American Musical Traditions by Richard March In one of the important migrations in human history, South Slavs joined mil- lions of southern and eastern Europeans in a risky journey across the Atlantic to North America. Leaving behind overpopulated villages or barren mountain pastures, they sought a new life in the smoky industrial cities and stark mining towns of the United States. This migration began in the last decades of the 19th century and has never really ceased. Though the rate of immigration has fluctu- ated widely, depending upon conditions in the homeland and the varying needs of America’s industries, South Slavs came — and continue to come, often from the same villages as the earlier immigrants and often to the same cities and towns in America. Like other ethnic or immigrant communities, South Slavs (Slovenes, Croats, Serbs, and Macedonians of Yugoslavia as well as Bulgarians) cherish, nurture, and thoroughly enjoy the musical traditions of their homeland. If you should happen to be in any city with a South Slavic communiy, on almost any weekend of the year, you will more than likely find a variety of ongoing musical events. Something is sure to be going on at one of the churches or lodge halls. At a Slovenian or Croatian Catholic church, there might be a performance by a button-box accor- dian group, a choir, or a tamburitza ensemble, while at a Serbian or Macedonian Orthodox church musicians play an accordian or clarinet backed by rhythm instruments for dancing. In addition, there are fraternal lodge halls and taverns that feature similar kinds of music; here one can listen to a song, join in a Rolo or oro line dance, or grab a partner to enjoy a polka or waltz. Throughout the summer, there is sure to be a lamb roast at a church or lodge picnic grove. The strains of a tamburitza combo playing sad love songs is a feast for the ears. For the South Salvs, music and musical events are a focus for community activity and social life. Actually this ethnic music may take on many meanings: to a musician it is a medium of self-expression, a role of positive status in the community, a pleasant pastime, or a total obsession. To a member of the audience the music may be the most important aspect of a community event replete with food and drink, good company, an opportunity to speak in the mother tongue, and the celebration of a traditional féte. One of the more persistent clichés about ethnic folk music is that it is slowly but surely dying out. Only a casual visit to a South Slavic community is needed to gain the opposite impression that the music is flourishing, gaining new practi- tioners and fans. Veteran musicians whose bands in the 1930s recorded 78 rpm records still perform and receive the starry-eyed adulation of teen-aged musicians. Young musicians study tapes of the old timers’ songs, memorizing the lyrics when they no longer understand the original language. One young tamburitza player, when I asked if he could speak Serbo-Croatian replied “no, but I can sing it.” As members of veteran ensembles drop out, owing to health or personal reasons, their places are often filled by players young enough to be their sons or daughters. In many cases they are in fact sons or daughters of musicians. It almost seems that musical talent is a dominant genetic trait. There are family combos entirely composed of parents and children or siblings. There are ensembles of young musicians in which every member is the child of an ethnic musician. Even the children of “mixed” marriages, that is of a South Slav to an individual of some other ethnic group, seem to gravitate more to the South Slavic traditions than to those of their other parent. Thus it is not uncommon to 1 Sarajevo, a tamburitza orchestra from Mil- waukee performs every Saturday in a local restaurant & bar. Instruments from left to right are bugarija and brac. 2 The lead instrument of the orchestra is the prima tamburitza, also called the prim. ; ; find South Slavic musicians with Irish or Polish last names, children who grew up absorbed in the South Slavic community through ties in the maternal line. Though the music is certainly not dying out, it definitely is evolving. A sure sign that something 7s dying out appears when the tradition ceases to respond to changing stimuli in its cultural environment. South Slavic musicians play the music of their own nationality, and whatever other music is pleasing to them. American popular songs, country and western numbers, and big band jazz tunes have entered the repertoires of South Slavic bands, but not in a willy-nilly fashion. Only certain melodies from other genres are appealing and meet the aesthetic criteria of the musical traditions. These find a lasting place in the repertoire, sometimes even becoming translated into a Slavic language. This filtering process assures that South Slavic American music will remain distinct from other American music while sharing some musical traits and repertoire with other traditions. 1 Patrons enjoy doing traditional Balkan line dances such as the kolo or oro.The more skillful dancers perform cacacko, a fast and intricate kolo. 2 Dancing is also popular at outdoor events such as picnics and festivals. At the 1973 Festival of American Folklife festivals goers join South Slavs from Yugoslavia in a line dance. Suggested Readings Govorchin, Gerald G. Americans from Yugo- slavia. Gainsville: University of Florida Press, 1961 Colakovic, Branko Mita, Yugoslav Migrations to America. San Francisco: R & E Research Assoc., 1973. Clissold, Stephen, A Short History of Yugoslavia. Cambridge: C.U. Press, 1966 Discography Slovenian: Button Box Polkas, Johnny Pecon and Lou Trebar, *DI 7022 Marjon Records, available from: 159 Easton Road, Sharon, Pennsylvania 16146 Prav Lustno Je Pozim, Violet Ruparcich, Greyko Records LPS 1015, available from: 159 Easton Road, Sharon, Pennsylvania 16146 Tamburitza Records: Any records by the Royal Tamburitzans ( Royals are Here Again, Royal Tamburitzans, More Jrom the Royals ) available from: J.A. Trosley, 557 George Street, Wood River, Illinois 62095 Any records by the Popovich Brothers ( Popovich Brothers, 40th Anniversary Album, Golden Anniversary Album ) available from: Popovich Brothers, 11110 Ave E., Chicago, Illinois 60617 Dave Zupkovich Memorial Album, Dave Zupk- ovich, Balkan Records DLP 5011, available from Balkan Music Company, 6917 W. Cermak Road, Berwyn, Illinois 60402 Accordian Groups: The program at the Festival of American Folklife conveys a hint of the musical Orchestra Balkan Orchestra Balkan. 9850 West ttaditions vibrantly alive in South Slavic American communities. But it can be Edgerton Avenue, Hale’s Corners, Wisconsin only an inkling. For anyone who would like to hear, see, or taste more, I recom- 53130 mend visiting a dance, a picnic, a concert, or a musical tavern in the South Slavic community in your area. Sypske Melodije Various Artists, 22436 O'Connor, St. Clair Shores, Michigan 48080 Viacedonian Horos Joe Tricoff and his Orches- tra Jay Tee Record Company, 714 Ardmore Drive, Dearborn Heights, Michigan 41827 Playground Folkgames and the Community of Children by Jean Alexander Observe any elementary school playground during recess: children are running, playing tag, throwing balls, jumping rope, hopping hopscotch, playing jacks, hitting, hiding, clapping hands, and singing. To adult spectators, this buzzing beehive of activity may seem chaotic, but the chaos appears only to them. The rules of the games are obscured by the noise and the action; boundaries, forbidden areas, and “it” figures — structures rigorously adhered to by the children. The shared knowledge of these games and the lore that accompanies them binds this community of children together. Friends teach the games to other friends, who discover them as new and original. Most children would probably be surprised to know that their parents played the same games, and their parents would probably be surprised to know that many of these games are several hundred years old! Most playground games can be described as either verbal or non-verbal action games. The non-verbal games, such as football, are usually played by boys. On the schoolgrounds, teams might be designated by classroom teachers’ names: Miss Torrence’s boys take the name of the Torrence Broncos and play against Rouselle’s Raiders. Fantasy is common; the boys pretend. During the games they are not just fifth- or sixth-graders. Individuals become Lester Hayes, Jim Plunkett, or other football heroes in their mighty dramas. Meanwhile, the younger boys watch closely and go on to practice their skills in less organized ways, and play tag, and bother the girls, and dream of being older. Girls tend to play the verbal action games. They start as first-, second-, and third-graders with circle and clapping games, moving up to such highly skilled complexities as the Double Dutch jumprope game in the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. Accompanying this action are certain rhymes that are chanted as the games are played. The rhymes change during the course of years; some older ones are modified or abandoned, some new ones are invented. Yet the structure of the games remains constant. Jean Alexander is a school librarian with the Washington, D.C. Schools. She has collected children’s games and has been associated with the Festival of American Folklife since 1974. 1 Jumping rope on Easter Monday circa 1900 PHOTO FROM THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 2 Capture the Flag FRANCIS BENJAMIN JOHNSTON PHOTO FROM THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 1899 35 In the Children’s Area the visitor to the Festival of American Folklife will see the singing games of Washington-area children. the games are: circle games, clapping games, cheers, and jump rope games. Circle Games A circle game is a circle of children with one in the middle, Donna died. (center ) Oh. How she die? (center) She died like this. (center makes a motion) She died like this. (center mirrors motion ) (The rhyme is repeated with new motion. ) Donna's livin’! (center) Ob! Where she livin’? (circle) She livin’ in a country called Tennessee. (all) ‘shniniie nape Senate styles za wAcaNNGTON She wears short short skirts up above the knee. SR RET Oncaea She's goin’ to shake that thing wherever she goes. 2 Double Dutch sequence, Festival of American Hands up. Tootsie. Tootsie. Tennessee. Folklife 1978 FESTIVAL OF AMERICAN FOLKLIFE PHOTO Hands down. Tootsie. Tootsie. Tennessee. z Touch the ground. Tootsie. Tootsie. Tennessee. To the front, to the back, to the sy, sy, sy, To the front, to the back, to the sy, sy, sy. Oh, she never went to college. She never went to school. And I found out she was an educated fool. Clapping Games Clapping games are very popular on the playgrounds. This one — Ronald McDonald — is clapped with four players. Each pair claps under and over the other pair. Ronald McDonald Ronald McDonald like frenchfries. Ronald McDonald like frenchfries. O-0 shee shee wa-wa. Frenchfries. I found another. Frenchfries She saw the sweet. Frenchfries Just like a cherry tree. Frenchfries. Ronald McDonald like hamburger. Ronald McDonald like hamburger. O-0 shee shee wa-wa. Hamburger. I found another. Hamburger. She saw the sweet. Hamburger. Just like a cherry tree. Hamburger Ronald McDonald like milkshake. Ronald McDonald like milkshake. O-0 shee wa-wa. Milkshake. She saw the sweet. Milkshake. Just like a cherry tree. Milkshake. Cheers The third type of singing game is called a cheer. Cheers are usually made up of new rhymes and they change often. Cheers tend to show off an individual's ability to perform spilts and cartwheels. They are performed in a line with each girl performing alone as the song chanted moves down the row. D-I-S-C-O. This is how my drill team go. Right on. Hey. Hey. Right on. My name ts Shana. Foxy Brown. You come my way, I knock you down. My sign ts Virgo with a V. If you don't like it, come see me. Ob. Shana. Get down. (splits and cartwheels) Jump Rope Games The rhymes that have been around the longest are the rhymes used for single rope jumping. Many old favorites have been around for several generations. In Shirley Temple (formerly called Charlie Chaplin), two children turn a rope and one or two jump and act out the rhyme. Shirley Temple went to France 10 teach the girls the hula hula dance. A heel, a toe. Around we go. Salute to the Captain. Bow to the Queen. Touch the bottom of the submarine. I wish I had a nickel. I which I had a dime. I wish I had a boyfriend to kiss me all the time. I'd make him wash the windows. I'd make him scrub the floor. And when he was finished, I'd kick him out the door. Double Dutch is the game that demands the most skill. Two turners rapidly swing two long ropes in opposite directions as the jumper dances between them. A typical rhyme used in a game of Double Dutch is: D-+4-S-H Double Dutch, Spanish. Iwas told that the boys kiss the girls. So take a trip around the world. Hey. Hey. Scoobie Doobie. Kick one. Hawaiian Islands. Kick two. Hawatian Islands. (until jumper misses. ) Why is the folklore of the community of children important? Primarily because it is important to the children themselves. The games allow them to direct and to be in control of their lives. In these games they test limits and boundaries, obey or disobey authority figures, and hone their physical skills to the utmost. After playing these games the children can return to their adult-directed lives with the pleasure of having been in charge of themselves. We adults can learn from this childlore, and appreciate the richness of that lore that has been handed down from child to child from one playground to another. Once upon a time, we, as children, exchanged this lore, too. Suggested Reading Abrahams, Roger D. Jump Rope Rhymes: A Dictionary. Austin, Tex.: University of Texas Press, 1969 Acker, Ethel F. Four Hundred Games For School, Home and Playground. Dansville, NY. FA Owen Publishing Co., 1923 Burroughs, Margaret Taylor. Did You Feed My cow?: Street Games, Chants And Rhymes. Chi- cago and New York: Follet Publishing Com- pany, 1969 Knapp, Mary and Herbert. One Potato, Two Potato... The Secret Education of American Children. New York: WW. Norton & Company, 1976, Newell, William Wells. Games and Songs of American Children. New York: Dover Press, 1963. First published in New York 1883; re- vised in 1903 Opie, lona and Peter. Children’s Games in Street and Playground. Oxtord: Oxford Univer- sity Press, 1969 Opie, lona and Peter. The Lore and Language of Schoolchildren. London: Oxford University Press, 1959 SkoInik, Peter L. Jump Rope! New York: Work- man Publishing Company, 197+ Sutton-Smith, Brain. 7e Folkgames of Chil- dren. Austin and London: University of Texas Press, 1972 Film Children Chants and Games. BFA Educational Media, 2211 Michigan Avenue, Santa Monica, Calif. 90404 Discography Jones,Bessic, Step It Down: Games for Children. Rounder Records, 186 Willow Avenue, Somer- ville, Mass. 02144 37 Nicholas Hawes has worked for folk festivals across the United States, including the Festival of American Folklife since 1975. He is currently living in western Massachusetts, where he con- ducts research in Northeastern traditional music and dance styles. FOX TROT WALTZ QUADRILLE ~ ee FOX TROT , MORNING STAR WALTZ CHORUS JIG FOX TROT LADY WALPOLES REEL WALTZ INTERMISSION FOX TROT PORTLAND FANCY WALTZ QUADRILLE FOX TROT HULLS VICTORY ALTZ 1 Clarence J. Turner holds a sign board used to announce dances in the 1930s at the Guiding Star Grange, Greenfield, Mass. Mr. Turner’s parents paid off the Grange mortgage in only four years by running weekly dances. PHOTO BY NICK HAWES 2 Joe Cormier from Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, plays for the Quadrille at the French Club, Waltham, Mass., while Bill Chaisson calls the figures. PHOTO BY JOHN M. BISHOP House Dances and Kitchen Rackets: Traditional Music Styles of the Northeast By Nicholas Hawes It’s Saturday night. The second-floor ballroom over the town hall in the small Monadnock village of Fitzwilliam, N.H. is filled with dancers. It’s a mixed crowd: some old folks, some young, mostly people in their mid-20s to early 50s. They are standing in couples, chatting restless ly, forming the long, double lines in which traditional New England contra dances are done. No one has announced that a contra is coming next, but then no one has to: all of these people have danced to Duke Miller before. “T don’t think Duke’s changed his program in 30 years,” my partner tells me. “Starts with a contra, three squares, a polka, and a break. Then the second set always begins with ‘Chorus Jig’.” She smiles happily. “He’s just great!” The small bandstand is crowded. Of the nine or ten musicians on the platform, only two have been hired to play: the lead fiddler and the piano player. These two sit back to back, the better to hear each other. Directly in front of them is Duke Miller’s chair. There is no discussion of upcoming tunes. Like the dancers, the musicians know what’s next. Duke Miller works his way slowly across the bandstand. He is a solid-looking man in his 80s and wears a dark suit and tie and highly polished boots. He is rumored to be in poor health — in fact, it is said that this might be his last regular dance in Fitzwilliam — but there is no sign of sickness in his voice. It is surprisingly young and strong. “All right. The first dance is ‘Chorus Jig’. First, third, and every other couple is active. You all know how it goes: active couples down the outside and down the middle. Cast off. Turn contra corners... ” Duke nods to the fiddler; the fiddler nods to the piano player. The piano sounds out four chords “for nothing,” and the dance begins. “Chorus Jig” is a classic contra and a great favorite throughout New England. Each active couple dances the complicated figure through with the couple next in line — four movements, one to each 8-measure phrase of the music. After 32 measures, the tune repeats and so does the dance, but somehow each active couple has moved one place down the set and has a new couple with whom to do the figure. And so it goes, repeating again and again, until each couple has danced with every other couple in the set. Depending on the size of the hall, this may take up to 15 minutes. Once, twice, three times through the dance, Duke calls out the changes, reminding the dancers of the next move a measure or two ahead. Then, for a while, he just watches. Finally, sure that everyone’s all right he settles back comfortably in his chair and closes his eyes. This is not his first Saturday night in Fitzwilliam. Each Saturday night, all across New England, in town and grange halls and church basements, people are dancing. There is nothing organized about these dances. They simply happen, a series of independent and very local affairs. Each is unique and is supported by a different community. The Fitzwilliam dance is one of the oldest and most old-fashioned in style. Duke Miller's mixture of contras, quadrilles, and singing squares dates from the late 1920s and early 1930s, a period when the rural New England communities were more homoge- neous and travel was more difficult than it is today. Nowadays, most Yankee communities prefer a program of all singing squares like those called by Ralph Higgins of Chesterfield, Mass. In a singing square, the dance directions are sung like lyrics to the melody of a popular tune, such as “Darling Nellie Gray” or “Redwing.” Unlike the contra or quadrille, where the dancers are reminded of the next figure a measure or two ahead, in the singing square the directions are given at the moment when the figure is to be danced. This makes it difficult to dance the figure in time with the appropriate music. Regular dancers solve this problem by memorizing the calls (in fact, many dancers sing along with the caller). Newcomers, however, have to stumble through behind the beat until they learn the dance. One special feature of the square formation is its exclusivity — each couple dances only with the other three couples making up their set. Since New Englanders always dance three squares in a row before taking a break, this means that the same eight people dance together for as long as half an hour. And since many of the sets re-form after the break in the same spot on the dance floor and with the same four couples, the “all singing squares” program gives rural New Englanders an opportunity to strengthen and celebrate long-standing family and community relationships now being threatened by the spread of suburbia into the countryside. You may not know your neighbor any more, but you do know who you're going to dance with on Saturday night. Interestingly, the “newcomers” — the city people who have moved in large numbers into the small towns and villages now only a short commute from the cities — have adopted as their favorite dance the traditional New England contra dance. And they've chosen it because, unlike the square, in a contra it’s virtually impossible not to dance with every other couple in the hall. A contra dance is a great way for a group of relative strangers to gain a sense of community. 30 years ago only a handful of contras like “Chorus Jig” were commonly done, but the contra dance revival has grown to such proportions over the last 15 years that in some parts of New England it is possible to dance contras five or six nights a week. Major dances, though, are still held on Saturday night. On special occasions, “dawn dances” and contras are danced from 8:30 p.m. until 6 or 7 a.m. Despite the simple, repetitive nature of contra dances and the small repertoire of basic moves (dos-a-dos, allemande, swing, etc.) from which they are constructed, the number and variety of contras is apparently unlimited. So, too, is their adaptability. I've seen contras danced at weddings and private parties, in backyards, in hallways, on village greens, in parking lots, and in bars. One of the most interesting group-dance traditions of the Northeast is the quadrille. Technically, a quadrille is a sequence of short square dances performed in sets of four (sometimes eight) couples. It was brought to this country from France and England in the early 19th century. Originally, each quadrille consisted of as many as five separate dance figures and, at the height of its popularity, there were literally hundreds of different quadrilles. Many of the individual figures linger on as “prompted squares” at old-fashioned programs like the Fitzwilliam dance. But the quadrille as a sequence of dances survives only in Franco-American and Canadian Maritime communities. Each Saturday night at the French-American Victory Club, in the Boston suburb of Waltham, a three-figure quadrille is still performed. The house band of electric guitars, piano, and drums leaves the stage, and a fiddler and caller take their places. Several dozen people get up to dance. At first glance, the Waltham quadrille appears merely to be a series of rather simple square dances, done in sets of four couples under the direction of the caller. Repetition, the secret of the quadrille, becomes apparent only after watching the dance carefully several times. The quadrille is always the same — the three figures are danced in the Contra formation (although only six couples are shown here, contras can be danced with “as many as will”) music MW MW MW MW MW MW M=man nN — W = woman SV oe. SN > og Square formation (quadrilles are danced using the same formation, although the numbering of couples may be different) music corners \ “ ad comers = = ns corners cormmers couples (a3 =head rae couples 2&4=side couples 39 Members of the Maritimes community of greater Boston still dance the old quadrille figures from “down home” every Saturday night at the French Club, Waltham, Mass. PHOTO BY JOHN M. BISHOP Suggested Reading Nevell, Richard. A Time To Dance .St. Martin's Press: New York, 1977 Sweet, Ralph, Let's Create Old Tyme Square Dancing Pub. Hazardville, Conn., 1966. (Contains an appraisal of traditional dance activities ) Tolman, Beth, and Ralph Page. The Country Dance Book.teprint 1976; original printing, 1937. Van Cleef, Joy. “Rural Felicity: Social Dance in 18th-Century Connecticut,” Dance Perspec- tives 65, Vol. 17 ,Spring 1976. Wells, Paul F. New England Traditional Fid- dling. Insert booklet for LP recording of same title (see discography ). Discography Beaudoin, Louis. La Famille Beaudoin/ The Beaudoin Family. Philo 2022. jacket notes by Paul F. Wells. Boudreault, Louis, Old Time Fiddler of Chicoutimi, Quebec, Voyager VRLP 322-S. (jacket notes by Louis Boudreault) Campbell, John. Cape Breton Violin Music. Rounder 7003. ( jacket notes by Mary Campbell and Mark Wilson). Cormier. Joseph, The Dances Down Home Rounder 7004. (jacket notes by Mark Wilson; insert booklet by Sam Cormier ) Cronin, Paddy. The Rakish Paddy, Fiddler FRLP-0O2. ( jacket notes by Frank H. Ferrel) Doucet, Tom. / Used to Play Some Pretty Tough Tunes. Rounder 7010, (jacket notes by Robert Coltman) Robichaud, Jerry. Maritime Dance Party Fretless FR 201. (jacket notes and insert sheet by Tony Parkes ) West, Ron. Vermont Fiddler, Fretless FR 132. (jacket notes by Norma West Mayhew ) Various Artists The Music of Cape Breton, Vol 2: Cape Breton Scottish Fiddle. Topic 12TS354.( jacket notes and booklet by John Shaw ) Vew England Traditional Fiddling John Edwards Memorial Foundation, JEMF-105, #0 (jacket notes and insert booklet by Paul F. Wells) same order every time the quadrille is performed. In Waltham, the quadrille is danced three times a night. In contrast, in the Maritimes, the local version of the quadrille is danced dozens of times in an evening, with breaks only for step dancing and an occasional fox trot. To an outsider, it might seem boring to repeat the same dance so often, but dancing is not all that’s going on here. The quadrille to the community of Waltham (like the Fitzwilliam dance to its community and the singing squares and contras to their communities )is more than a dance — it’s a statement. It says to the dancers, their families, and friends, “This is who I am and this is where I belong.” And that’s a very important function of the New England Saturday night dance. At the center of all traditional dancing in the Northeast is the fiddler. Without him, there is no dance. Only the flute, and earlier, the fife, has ever challenged the fiddle’s dominance. Since the earliest days, the roles of fiddler and caller have been intertwined. In some Cases, certain dances were done only to specific tunes and the fiddler, in choosing the tune, also chose the dance. But many fiddlers developed inde- pendent reputations as callers. Often the fiddler would just announce the dance and briefly review the figures before beginning to play. Some fiddlers, like the late Ed Larkin of Vermont, would call the changes and simultaneously play the tune. A fiddler alone was enough to make a band for a small dance. In fact, at the informal house dances, or “kitchen rackets,” there was rarely enough room for more musicians anyway, and often the fiddler had to perch precariously on a stool in the kitchen sink. In the early 20th century, the accompaniment (if any) was provided by the parlor pump organ. Today, piano back-up is standard, and guitars, mandolins, tenor banjos, and flutes round out the orchestra. Still, no matter what the make-up of the band, it’s the fiddler who sets the tempos and chooses the tunes. Although each of the major traditional Northeastern communities (Yankee, French Canadian, Scottish, and Maritime ) has developed and maintained its own vigorous and distinctive fiddle styles, all share characteristics that distinguish them from other major fiddle regions of North America. Among these character- istics are: unison (one rarely hears harmony or countermelodies ), distinct articulation, and absence of variation. Additionally, there is a high degree of musical literacy. Many fiddlers learn much of their repertoire from printed sources, and tunes in the “flat keys” (F, B?, and even E?) are not uncommon. All of these fiddle styles, all of these traditional dances, are still alive all over New England. Indeed they thrive at the Saturday night dances. New England musicians and dancers will present their traditions daily and in evening concerts at the 1981 Festival of American Folklife, for your enjoyment and participation. Staff Contributing Sponsors Smithsonian Institution Secretary: S. Dillon Ripley Under Secretary: Phillip $. Hughes Assistant Secretary for History and Art: Charles Blitzer; Special Assis- tant to Assistant Secretary for History and Art: Dean Anderson Assistant Secretary for Administra- tion: John Jameson Assistant Secretary for Public Service: Julian Euell Assistant Secretary for Science: David Challinor Assistant Secretary for Museum Programs: Paul Perrot Folklife Advisory Council Members Wilcomb Washburn, Chairman Roger Abrahams Richard Ahlborn Richard Dorson William Fitzhugh Lloyd Herman Robert Laughlin Scott Odell Ralph Rinzler Peter Seitel Richard Sorenson Thomas Vennum Office of Folklife Programs Director; Ralph Rinzler Administrative Officer: Betty Beuck Archivist: Richard Derbyshire Technical Coordinator for Special Programs: Gary Floyd Folklorist: Susan Kaléik Program Coordinator: Jeffrey LaRiche Administrative Assistant: Sarah Lewis Special Programs Coordinator: Diana Parker Folklorist: Jack Santino Senior Folklorist: Peter Seitel Designer: Daphne Shuttleworth Fiscal Technician: Barbara Strickland Ethnomusicologist: Thomas Vennum Folklorist: Steven Zeitlin Celebration Exhibition Staff: Kristie Miller Beth Hantzes Carol Foster National Park Service Secretary of the Interior: James G.Watt Director: Russell E. Dickenson Regional Director, National Capital Region: Manus J. Fish, Jr. Officials and Staff Deputy Director, National Capital Region: Robert Stanton Chief, United States Park Police: Parker T. Hill Assistant Chief, United States Park Police: Lynn H. Herring Deputy Chief, Operations, United States Park Police: Denny R. Sorah Associate Regional Director, Public Affairs: George Berklacy Superintendent, National Capital Parks — Central: William F. Ruback Facilities Manager, National Capital Parks — Central: James Rubin Site Manager, National Mall: Levy Kelly Employees of the National Capital Region and the United States Park Police Department of Energy Secretary. James B. Edwards The United States Department of Energy furnished funds for the Adobe Architecture program at this year’s Festival. Music Performance Trust Funds Trustee: Martin A. Paulson Administrative Assistant: Elba schneidman The U.S. Recording Companies furn- ish funds in whole or in part for the instrumental music in these perform- ances through the Music Performance ‘Trust Funds. Fate =