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. Wintergreen berry tea % a \ : | & f ° Pr ¢ m \ { \ = = \e ~ oo] > : 3 a ee @ ee | VS wei! = ’ t Ss Cy ay | <a y ' , I | a | | vim “iyo ~ ee a& { | 4 | | ¥ ‘et eva Ne . | oS : | fe i, as tom was quickly brewed in this fashion and sweetened with a bit of granulated maple sugar, and provided a refreshing break to the Woodlands traveller. Ojibwa artifacts were often adorned with birchbark cutouts in the form of bird or abstract floral designs (fig.D ); these were sewn on with split roots. Another traditional manner of decorating a bark vessel was to scrape away the bark surrounding the desired design so that the underlying bark, which is somewhat lighter in color, offered a contrasting background. One birchbark eagerly sought by the modern collector is the small but intricately designed porcupine quill work box, which comes in many shapes. Quill work was developed long before the arrival of Europeans. Today, however, only a few Ojibwa specialize in it. While the quills for box making may be left naturally white with brown or black tip, some workers prefer to dye them with either natural or commercial coloring. The quills are first softened in water, then inserted in the bark from the back (white side) through a hole punched by an awl; they are drawn through to the front, bent over, then fastened against the bark. A ihin piece of bark is always placed so as to hide the snipped ends. Designs of such birchbark boxes vary greatly, but semi-realistic floral, conven- tional geometric and abstract animal patterns are the most common. Most quill boxes are etched with sweet grass bound with a simple stitch of black thread. Less common are boxes stitched with moose hair to resemble embroidery (in place of quillwork). For the Ojibwa, birchbark canoes were ideal for travel over the countless waterways of their environment. Because their construction required much skill and patience, only a few people in any village made canoes. Others bartered or traded to acquire one. Four to six people worked together to build a canoe, generally two men and several women. Most of the time required was spent just collecting and fashioning the various parts; the actual construction often amounted to only about one-third of the total time for its completion. Birchbark formed the shell; white cedar was obtained for the gunwales, thwarts and ribs. Spruce or jack pine roots were split and used for stitching. Birchbark canoe construction is unusual in that it is accomplished from the outside. The shape of the canoe comes from a form held in place by rocks and later removed. A section called the “bottom bark” is first put into place with a second piece added on each side to give proper height. (Contrary to common depictions, the golden side of the bark is on the outside.) This side bark is sewn on using split root with a double stitch to give it strength. Sewing is almost always done by the women, with the exception of the ends, which are laced up by the head canoemaker. The seams are later sealed with pine or spruce pitch with deer tallow added. Canoes varied in size and length. Hunters or trappers preferred shorter canoes, about three to three and a half m (ten to twelve ft. long); an Ojibwa family required one four and a quarter to five m (fourteen to sixteen ft.) in length. War canoes could reach a length of six m (twenty ft.) with a width ofa little over a meter (forty to forty-six in.). French voyageurs enlarged the boat even further to transport their beaver furs over the Great Lakes to the seaports. Their “canot du maitre” (whence our word “canoe” is derived) could be as long as eleven m (thirty-six ft.) and had a carrying capacity of over three and a quarter metric tons (three and a half tons). Although many traditional birchbark articles in Ojibwa culture were gradually replaced by those of European-American manufacture (oil cans, for example, were substituted for bark receptacles to collect maple sap, fig.E) many Ojibwa continue to perpetuate the birchbark crafts of their ancestors (fig.F), At this year’s Festival, a number of them will demonstrate the construction of the wigwam, canoe and food vessels made of bark. Suggested Reading Densmore, Frances. Chippewa Customs. St. Paul, Minn: Minnesota Historical Society, 1979. (reprint from 1929) Lyford, Carrie A. Ojibwa Crafts. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Dept. of the Interior, 1943. Tanner, Helen H. The Ojibwas: A Critical Bibliography. Bloomington, Ind: University of Indiana Press, 1976. Ritzenthaler, Robert E. The Building of a Chippewa Indian Birch-Bark Canoe. Milwau- kee, Wisconsin: Milwaukee Public Museum Bulletin, Vol, 19, No. 2, 1950. Discography Densmore, Frances, ed. Songs of the Chippewa. Library of Congress AAFSL22, 1950. Canyon Records. Chippewa: War Dance Songs for Powwow. C-6082, 1971. Canyon Records. Chippewa Grass Dance Songs. Kingbird Singers. C-6106, 1973. Filmography Nyholm Earl. Wiigwaasijtimaan ( The Birchbark Canoe ). Mt. Pleasant, Michigan: Saginaw Chippewa Indian Tribe, Inc. and Bemidji, Min- nesota: Bemidji State University, 1978. An Ojibwe Language Film. Color, 28 min., 16mm. Vennum, Thomas. The Drummaker. Smith- sonian Folklife Studies, 2a, 1980. B+W, 42 min., 16mm. Distributed by Audio Visual Services, Pennsylvania State University, University Park, Pa. 9 10 Glenn Hinson ts a graduate student in folk- lore and folklife at the University of Penn- sylvania. For three years he was Fieldwork Director of the North Carolina Office of Folk- life Programs, where he worked extensively with medicine show performers. Sarting Monday Night! Coming Here in All Its Splendor The SUPREME cera poy of the World THE RECOGNIZED REPEKAENTATIVES OW WORLD PREAEKT THE CREAT ANFAY OF PERPORMERD EVER GATHERED TOCETHEP SMART SET AND THE ORIGINAL MA RANIEY, The “Great “BLUES” SINGER _The GREATEST COLORED SHOW iON EARTH rs 22D Boe LEBAND OPERATIC STARS CRCUS A RIOT OF PRATIVITIES BET IN 4 CAMVaR OF GOROEOUS UFAUTY UN LIER AMY OTHER PRFVIOUS ATTEMET IM MODERN TERT SHOWS THIS SNOW ONLY PLAYS LARGE CITIRE AM5) EB THY BIGOEST ATT Em) Im THE <OLORED SHOW wORLi. Come and See--You Will Be Surprised Eaoae ae America’s Greatest Singing and Dan Chorus WITH THE MOST WONDER* UL: COSTUMES EVEM BREW IN THIB CITY THE BIGGEST BEVY OF SINGING AND DANCING GIRLS YOU HAVE EVER SEEN IMPERIAL Troupe of Tossing Turng Tombliog CLOWNS Poem of Dory An all the world 00 abow like blair 10 the only Big Show Coming This Season and you Spe Sera aa Admiasion Adults s7¢ Witter "x 30C Cdildren. * 20; War Tax Ps Reserved Beas, 18 Wartes se 2OC Doors Opes at yc pm Performance at 815 pom 1 Poster for a Black variety show featuring Ma Rainey. PHOTO COURTESY OF THE CHICAGO HISTORICAL SOCIETY 2 Many rural Americans enjoyed tent shows as their primary form of entertainment. PHOTO FROM LIBRARY OF CONGRESS Trouping Under Ca NVas: The American Tent Show Tradition By Glenn Hinson During the sixty year period centered at the turn of the century, rural commu- nities across the nation enjoyed a uniquely American form of traveling theater — the tent show. These theatrical performances under canvas became, for small- town audiences, the major purveyors of popular entertainment, bringing them a theater that combined elements of the circus, Broadway, minstrelsy, and regional folklife into a form ultimately reflecting vernacular rural culture. Concert and comedy companies, Uncle Tom’s Cabin troupes (commonly referred to as “Tommers’ ), repertory theaters, medicine shows, Chautauquas, and Black vari- ety shows set up their tents at railroad whistle-stops and crossroads villages, entertaining the masses ignored by the metropolitan theater centers. For dec- ades, these tent shows criss crossed the countryside and became an integral part of the American cultural landscape. Tent theater developed as a popular form in the late 1870s, during a period of profound social change brought about by the shift from a rural agricultural to an urban industrial economy. Burgeoning metropolitan areas had become the prin- cipal stages of expressive culture, and their theaters mirrored the ethos and concerns of the urban populace rather than those of their more conservative rural neighbors. Those in the small towns viewed the theater with mixed emotions: though the stage was admittedly a vehicle for respectable cultural expression, its urban form was seen as basically disreputable. A rural theater movement that reflected provincial tastes and borrowed heavily from regional folk culture even- tually developed out of this tension. As companies of performers began traveling into the hinterlands, they found theatrical facilities quite inadequate. Though many towns boasted public halls (commonly dignified by the name “opera house’), these were often ill suited for dramatic presentations, being limited in size, poorly lit, and ventilated. In re- sponse to these conditions, many troupes began carrying theatrical tents, bor- rowing the format from the circus and the interior layout from the popular stage. Transported by wagon or rail, a big top could be erected within a matter of hours, its mere presence making it the center of local attention. When the canvas was up and the ticket box in place, the tent show band (invariably com- prised of actors doubling as musicians) struck up a rousing tune, launching into a concert ballyhoo and signaling the opening of the show. Probably the first play to be popularly associated with tent troupes was Uncle Tom’s Cabin, a perennial favorite which, after taking the dramatic world by storm in the early 1850s, became the nation’s prime audience- pleaser for more than five decades. Billed as a “great and moral drama,” the play was perfectly suited to rural tastes, a point not lost on theatrical managers anxious to open new markets. Shortly after the Civil War, many troupes hit the road with their versions of Uncle Tom's Cabin, bringing it to the smallest communities in the Midwest and along the frontier. They freely revised the play, discarding the original manuscript and molding it to reflect regional attitudes and preferences. Popular scenes, sush as Eliza’s escape across the icy Ohio River, were empha- sized and elaborated, while less dramatic ones were purged, often replaced by acts wholly unrelated to Harriet Beecher Stowe’s work but enthusiastically re- ceived by the theater-goers. Eventually the structure of the drama came to depend more upon the expectations of the audience and the limitations of the cast and scenery than on the plot outline. By this time, troupes presenting the play ranged from small family units performing in cramped circus round tops to the “Ideal Double Mammoth” companies, coming to town with huge casts, separate Black and white marching bands, and tents capable of seating four thousand people. The inroads made by “Tom” shows in rural America were soon exploited by companies presenting other “moral dramas,” notably the temperance play Jen Nights in a Barroom. These and other time worn melodramas set the tone for a genre of plays that became increasingly popular in the South and Midwest. As In the days before television and film, Chatauqua and other shows travelled across the country, performing under canvas. PHOTO FROM LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 11 1 Billboards such as this one signalled the arrival of dance, music, and comedy for small towns. PHOTO FROM LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 2 The George Sweet Players, a large travelling repertoire show. PHOTO COURTESY OF THE MUSEUM OF REPERTOIRE AMERICANA MIDWEST OLD THRESHERS EARLY HALFA CENTURY OF cE oe Aw Hocrwaut | RICHARDS & PRIN LES Famo theatrical troupes expanded their repertoires, they added dramas and comedies that reflected rural attitudes toward morality and the outside world. With in- creased offerings, tent companies were able to stay in town for longer periods, presenting a different play each night of the week and thus avoiding the hard- ships imposed by one-night stands. By the first decade of this century, such tent repertory organizations (commonly called “rep companies” ) were springing up across the country, playing under canvas during the summer season and moving into local opera houses for the colder months. Within twenty years there were more than four hundred such rep companies on the road, performing to an annual audience of seventy-eight million people. Borrowing from circus and minstrel traditions, tent rep companies usually opened the show with a band concert and interspersed variety specialties, ranging from juggling to ventriloquism, between the three or four acts of the play. The dramas themselves were often built around the ideological conflict between country and city life, idealizing the common man in a way that appealed to rural audiences. Certainly the most enduring character to rise out of this dramatic genre was that of Toby, a redheaded, freckle-faced country boy whose humorous antics and recurrent, though at times unwitting, triumphs over the forces of evil made him a favorite. With a personality drawn directly from American folklore, Toby captured the hearts of rural theater-goers and became so popular that many tent rep companies regularly included a Toby bill in their weekly fare. While rep troupes offered folk-based entertainment, tent Chautauquas pre- sented formal programs of an educational and morally instructive nature. Deriy- ing its name and philosophy from the New York educational institute, the Chautauqua movement brought well-known lecturers, musicians and, in later years, actors to rural communities, proffering two or three different programs a day for a week’s span. Unlike other tent theaters, Chautauqua appeared only in towns whose citizenry had guaranteed the advance sale of a minimum number of tickets, thus their circuit was always determined a year in advance. Always opening with singers ranging from operatic contraltos to Swiss yodelers, the presentations initially focused on speakers — politicians, humorists, preachers and inspirational lecturers (known on the circuit as “mother, home and heaven” orators). In subsequent years, Chautauquas shifted their emphasis from lecturers to entertainers, increasingly presenting short dramas and refined variety acts. Whereas these tent shows were largely made up of white performers, a dis- tinct Afro-American entertainment tradition also thrived under canvas. From the 1920s through the 1940s, large troupes of Black musicians, dancers, and comedians traveled through the South in variety shows such as the Silas Green or Florida Blossom minstrels. Using a format that merged minstrelsy with vaude- ville, these tent spectacles presented fast-paced revues of classic blues singers, jazz bands, tap and eccentric dancers, comedy teams and choruses of dancing girls. Blues singers such as Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith and comics such as Dewey “Pigmeat” Markham and Butterbeans and Susie spent much of their careers on the tent show circuit, performing material firmly rooted in Black folk culture to enthusiastic Afro-American audiences. Countless other entertainment troupes also appeared in tent theaters. Many of the larger medicine shows sold their tonics and liniments under canvas, attracting the audience with traditional music, variety acts and short farcical skits. Some entrepreneurs traveled with tent cinemas, performing vaudeville sketches between reels and after the movie. All of these tent shows flourished on small-town circuits, relying upon the sales of ten-, twenty- and thirty-cent tickets to their rural patrons. With the Depression, however, these revenues evaporated, striking a crippling blow to the tenting tradition. The development of efficient transportation networks and the popularity of radio and television added the finishing touches, allowing the populace to travel to larger entertain- ment centers while at the same time bringing high-quality performances into their living rooms. By the end of World War II, the number of tent shows on the road had markedly decreased; most of the survivors have since disappeared, leaving only a vestige of the tradition. In the course of their history, tent shows brought pleasure to millions, offer- ing entertainment reflecting the rich folk culture from which they evolved while creating and popularizing new heroes, songs, jokes, and dances. By presenting performers from the tent show tradition, we hope to celebrate this oft-forgotten era of American folk and popular entertainment history. Suggested Reading Birdoff, Harry. The World's Greatest Hit — Uncle Tom's Cabin. New York: S. F. Vanni, 1947. Harrison, Harry P., and Karl Detzer. Culture Under Canvas: The Story of Tent Chautauqua. New York: Hastings House, 1958. Schaffner, Neil E., and Vance Johnson. The Fabulous Toby and Me. Englewood Cliffs: N.J. Prentice-Hall, 1968. Slout, William L. Theater in a Tent: The Devel- opment of Provincial Entertainment. Bowling Green, Ky.: Bowling Green University Popular Press, 1972. Stearns, Marshall and Jean. Jazz Dance: The Story of American Vernacular Dance. New York: Macmillan Co., 1968. Crafts in a Folklife Festival—Why Include Them and How to Evaluate Them by Ralph Rinzler, Director, Office of Folklife Programs in Sings fa ci ome Fifteen years ago, when planning the first Folklife Festival, we were aware that the Smithsonian holds the world’s most extensive collection of objects relating to American history and everyday life. Many of these objects — some made relatively recently and others in past centuries — were made by folk craftworkers. It seemed appropriate, therefore, to tie these objects to the tradition-bearers themselves. And so it was that we gatheted from around the nation craftworkers ~ — as well as musicians, dancers, and storytellers — and christened the event a “folklife” festival rather than simply a folk festival. Secretary Ripley, in comment- ing on the object orientation of a later Festival, noted: “The possibility of using a museum that is essentially a historical documentary museum as a theatre of live performance where people actually show that the objects in the cases were made by human hands, and are still being made, practiced on, worked with, is a very valuable asset for our role as a preserver and conservator of living cultural forms.” Many of the objects crafted, exhibited, and sold at the 1981 Festival are very similar to items on view in the Museum. In fact, some of the objects now in the permanent collections were purchased from Festival craftworkers in the late 1960s. While some of the folk craftworkers employ modern labor and time- saving techniques, in every case they blend these with the preindustrial technologies of earlier generations. Such technologies as well as the forms of the objects themselves, are the product of family and regional folk traditions. The craft component at this Festival has three subdivisions: 1) a demonstration area where craftworkers will be explaining their work; traditional Southeastern music — played, in part, on instruments made by the demonstrators — will also be featured; 2) an exhibition of carefully-selected items commissioned specifically for the Festival and reminiscent of forms and styles made by the craftworkers’ forebears; these objects will be sold at auction July 1-5 at 3:00 P.M.; 3) a general sales tent, planned with the Smithsonian Museum Shops, where an exceptional array of traditional crafts made for the Festival will be on sale daily. The largest category of sales items is handmade pottery. This includes both earthenware and stoneware from ten different potteries. Stoneware is generally more durable than earthenware, being more highly fired and less likely to chip. It will, however, crack when exposed to sudden temperature changes. Though suitable for baking, it cannot be taken from the refrigerator and placed directly into a pre-heated oven. Similarly, stoneware teapots should be pre-warmed before boiling water is poured into them. Neither the stoneware nor the earthenware should be used over an open flame or on a stovetop, although both are suitable for washing in a diswasher. The glazes on the pots vary from centuries-old salt glaze (seen on North Carolina’s Jugtown and Melvin Owens pottery) and ash-and-slip Shanghai glaze (seen on Georgian Lanier Meaders’ ware ), to commercially available white and colored glazes seen on most of the remaining ware (especially from Teague and Cole potteries in North Carolina and Bybee pottery in Kentucky). The orange ware from North Carolina’s piedmont region (Seagrove, Westmoore, and Jugtown potteries) is typical of earthenwares made up and down the East Coast as early as the 17th century. The orange-red color is that of the clay which is sealed with a clear glaze originally made with red lead. Today, when lead is used, it is fritted (pre-fired and fused) before it is actually applied as a glaze, and 14 therefore poses no health hazard. The Festival’s pottery inventory includes decorative serving pieces, f » covered and open casseroles, pie plates, bowls, pitchers, gravy boats, platters, mugs, candle holders, sugar-and-creamers, teapots, cookie jars, and cannister sets. A few humerous curiosities or vessels with transposed uses are included. Among the former are moustache mugs and frog mugs (a frog peers up from the bottom) from Seagrove Pottery. Strange and continuously perplexing to scholars are the stoneware jugs bearing faces. There is considerable resemblance between some examples found in this country and items of Ghanaian as well as Zairian origin. American examples of face jugs spread up and down the East Coast from new England at least as far south as South Carolina during the last century. Three variants of the face jug from the kilns of the Brown Family, Burlon Craig, and Lanier Meaders are included in the exhibition and sales areas. The latter individual was documented on film and in a soon-to-be-released mono- — graph by Smithsonian folklorists; many of Lanier’s face jugs have been erroneously attributed as antiques and have sold at folk art auctions for hundreds of dollars. Perhaps the most representative piece of old time Southeastern pottery is the churn. Today, though a few country families still churn butter by hand, these serve mostly as umbrella stands, punchcrocks for large gatherings, and fireside adornments in urban households. Churns vary in size from approximately two gallons to the more standard three and four gallons. Occasionally an unusually large churn is produced such as the eight gallon Shanghai glazed rarities made by Lanier Meaders for the exhibition. Of all the woods available to Southeastern carpenters, whittlers, and basket- makers, Oak is perhaps the most important. Chairmakers fashion the vertical members of a chair from green oak and then use seasoned hickory or sometimes an alternative hardwood for the stretchers which join and stabilize the legs. As the chair ages, the green verticals shrink around the pre-seasoned stretchers, nature’s own glue holding the chair together more firmly than any mixture made by man. The chairs are then seated with either oak splits or with strips of hickory bark gathered at just the right period after the sap has started flowing in early spring. Arkansas chairs made by the Bump family at Royal and the Christian and McCutcheon families at Mt. Judea are available at the Festival. Basketmakers use oak splits (just like the chair splits) to fashion ribs and weaving elements. Most of the oak split baskets on general sale at the Festival are by Arkansan Don Gibson. Other sales and exhibition baskets include Afro-American coil baskets made in the Sea Islands of South Carolina and a limited number of American Indian baskets. A small number of rare and very handsome double woven cane baskets made by North Carolina Cherokees and by Mrs. Ada Thomas, the sole remaining Louisiana Chitimacha basketmaker, will be found in the exhibition and will be sold only at the auction. A variety of country brooms is also included in the exhibition and sales areas. Among the most durable and useful are the corn brooms made by Tennessean Omah Kear. For those who would rather cover the floor than sweep it, rag rugs in a number of styles and sizes are available both from Amish and other traditional weavers in Maryland and from Mrs. Lola Rhodes of Hendersonville, North Carolina. Other woven textiles include coverlets from the Goodwin Guild of Blowing Rock, North Carolina. These bedcovers in cotton and wool include an overshot version in the whig rose pattern and a double-weave version in the lovers knot pattern with a pine tree border. A cotton coverlet with a subtle 16 honeycomb pattern is also available. The original drafts for these patterns were collected from Appalachian home weavers by John Goodwin (1889-1974) during the early part of the century. Mr. Goodwin's daughters and grandson — the fourth and fifth generations of Goodwin weavers — continue to operate the family flyshuttle looms at Blowing Rock. A limited number of toys carved by Willard Watson, cousin of the noted North Carolina guitarist, Doc Watson, has been obtained for the exhibition. A small number of large wood carvings by Donny Tolson and Earnest Patton also may be seen in the exhibition. Donny Tolson’s carvings are reminiscent of those of his father, Edgar Tolson, whose work may be seen in the Smithsonian Museum of American History as well as in the Whitney Museum in New York City. These items will be sold at auction. Metal work in the exhibition comes from a variety of locations. In the D.C. suburbs, Erwin Thieberger continues to confect tinware pieces similar to those he made prior to World War II in Poland. Southern blacksmiths like Phipps Bourne of Virginia and Philip Simmons of South Carolina continue to make hand wrought items such as fireplace tools and chandeliers similar to those of craftsmen a century ago. The work of these individuals is available at auction. The Festival's collection of traditional Southeastern crafts is the largest the Smithsonian has ever assembled for sale. Produced by each craftsman especially for the Festival, these items are not generally available from the Museum Shops. However, they may be obtained throughout the Festival from 11:00 a.m. until 5:30 p.m., June 24-28 and July 1-5. The only additional opportunities to purchase crafts will be at the daily 3:00 p.m. auctions which will take place in the crafts area July 1-3 and at the Festival Stage July 4 and 5. Traditional Southern Crafts In The Twentieth Century By Robert Sayers As a popular art form, traditional or “folk” crafts have a certain appeal that few other objects in American life have. Unselfconsciously created by local — usually rural — artisans, they characteristically have a charm and forthrightness missing in many of the fine arts. Equally important, we like to think that folk crafts harken back to an earlier, simpler time — an era of small town insularity before the intrusion of machine- manufactured goods and other commonplaces of the industrial age. In the North, this era ended before 1880. In many areas of the Southeast, on the other hand, continued isolation and agrarian self-sufficiency ensured that domestic activi- ties like quilting, basketmaking, and coverlet weaving would persist longer. Actually, the present generation is not the first to “discover” southern crafts, although the sentiments and meanings attached to such objects are contemporary in nature. As early as 1896, Dr. William Goodell Frost, president of Berea Col- lege in Kentucky, established a yearly “homespun fair” expressly to preserve and promote mountain handweaving. Out of a similar concern and about the same time, Mrs. Frances L. Goodrich created Allanstand Cottage Industries near Ashe- ville, North Carolina. Goodrich, a social worker for the Presbyterian Home Mis- sions, found a powerful motive in her work beyond mere preservation. Among her stated aims was “to bring money into communities far from market and to give paying work to women in homes too isolated to permit them to find it for themselves. ...” The ameliorative impulse, in fact, was justification for much of the interest in Southern crafts during this early period. To be sure, a good deal of the success of the so-called craft “revival” could be laid to its concurrent growth with the more pervasive International Arts and Crafts Movement after 1900. Consumers as far away as Boston and New York were much taken with quaint southern curios just as they developed a collecting mania for American Indian baskets and rugs. But for the purveyors of southern crafts, such as the George Washington Vanderbilt- sponsored Biltmore Industries at Asheville and the various settlement schools such as Pi Beta Phi, Pine Mountain, and Hindman in Kentucky and Tennessee, the motivation continued to be the fostering of productive skills that would bring money into impoverished households. Eventually, independent craft guilds and cooperatives began to evolve along- side the earlier mission and settlement school programs. The largest of these was the Southern Highlands Handicraft Guild, that brought together numerous smaller organizations under one marketing umbrella. And for a time it appeared as though a self-sustaining southern craft industry was being created. However, the Depression intervened, and by 1937, when Allen Eaton published his re- markable Handicrafts of the Southern Highlands (a book that details much of the history sketched here ), the advocacy role of the early crafts revivalists had been passed to federal agencies. Especially important in this regard were the National Park Service, the Resettle- ment Administration, and the Tennessee Valley Authority, all of which helped southern craftsmen sell their work during this difficult period. At the same time, photographers with the Farm Security Administration and artists employed to create the Index of American Design documented this work for posterity. For the most part, federal involvement with southern craftsmen was termi- nated after 1940 and did not resume until the War on Poverty program of the Johnson Administration more than 20 years later. As during the first revival, this latter period was marked by a flowering of interest in things “organic,” “hand- Robert Sayers holds the PhD degree in anthropology from the University of Arizona. He ts the co-author, with Program Director Ralph Rinzler, of two monographs on Appa- lachian and Korean (forthcoming ) folk potters. USS. 1, near Fredericksburg, Va., 1941 JACK DELANO, FSA PHOTO FROM LIBRARY OF CONGRESS OLD rai) DOMINION COUNTY UNIT HOME Dada t-] Tela ey Suggested Reading The literature on Southern crafts is extensive and growing. The following books, all currently available, provide a useful starting point for the reader. Books: Bridenbaugh, Carl.7he Colonial Craftsman. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961 Eaton, Allen H. Handicrafts of the Southern Highlands. New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1937 (Dover edition, 1973). Glassie, Henry. Pattern in the Material Folk Culture of the Eastern United States. Philadel- phia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1968. Glassie, Henry. Folk Housing in Middle Vir- ginia: A Structural Analysis of Historic Artifacts. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1975 Hornung, Clarence Pearson. 7reasury of Amer- ican Design: a pictorial survey of popular folk arts based upon watercolor renderings in the Index of American Design, at the National Gallery of Art. New York: H. N. Abrams, 1972 (2 volumes). Quimby, Ian M.G. and Scott T. Swank (eds. ) Perspectives on American Folk Art. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Co. for the Henry Francis du Pont Winterthur Museum, 1980 Rinzler, Ralph and Robert Sayers. 7e Meaders Family: North Georgia Potters. Smithsonian Folklife Studies No. 1. Washington, D.C.: Smith- sonian Institution Press, 1980. Tullos, Allen (ed.) Long Journey Home: Folklife in the South. Chapel Hill, N.C.: Southern Expo- sure, 1977. Vlach, John Michael. The Afto-American tradi- tion in Decorative Arts. Cleveland: The Cleve- land Museum of Art, 1978. Wigginton, Eliot (ed.) Foxfire 1-6. Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1974-1980 Catalogs: Georgia Council for the Arts and Humanities Crafts Program. Missing Pieces; Georgia Folk Art 1770-1976. Gainesville, Ga., 1976 Georgia council for the Arts and Humanities Crafts Program. Georgia Crafts/ Appalachia. Gainesville, Ga., 1979. Mississippi Department of Archives and History. Made by Hand: Mississippi Folk Art. Jackson, 18 Mississippi: State Historical Museum, 1980 made,” and “country.” By no accident, the 1960s and 1970s also witnessed a renaissance in the professional disciplines of folklore and social history. The Smithsonian Festival of American Folklife is one product of this renaissance. While the preceding sketch might suggest that southern folk craftsmen have been sustained to the present by well-intentioned activists and philanthropists and by distant markets, this is neither a complete nor an accurate picture. Re- cent fieldwork reveals, to the contrary, that virtually every area of the South harbors a potter, weaver, toy maker, wood-carver, boatbuilder, calligrapher, ornamental blacksmith, sign painter, or seamstress who has maintained his or her craft in the face of nearly total indifference by the outside world. It is true, certainly, that many southern craftsmen have discarded quilt making, coverlet weaving, and pottery turning as unpleasant reminders of their humble origins. For others, the crafts remain a beloved preoccupation that, like family reunions and music festivals, have grown to symbolize an important component of re- gional and ethnic identity. As a group, there are few generalizations that can be made about contempo- rary southern craftsmen. Some are articulate about their work while others are inexpressive. Some practice crafts originally restricted to only one sex and passed from parent to child through an informal apprenticeship while others have not been so constrained. Many find monetary benefit in what they do; a few like the solitary carver or painter work to some inner purpose largely devoid (until the coming of the folk art collector) of remunerative value. We have been conditioned to respect highly those craftsmen who remain closest to “traditional” ways, e.g. those who give the least appearance of having altered either their processes or their product. In this we differ somewhat from the early revivalists, many of whom seem not to have experienced any anxiety “improving” on local traditions. Examples in point are the early weaving cooper- atives that introduced Italian drawnwork and Finnish rya wall hangings into the vocabularies of highland weavers, and the famous North Carolina pottery that successfully marketed “Chinese” forms and glazes in the 1920s and 1930s. Even those revivalists who stressed adherence to “Colonial” craft models were imposing their own versions of “tradition” on their client artisans. The problem is that today very few descendent craftsmen preserve their craft completely free of outside influences; the greater number have adjusted their manufacturing processes to save time by using substitute materials and power tools just as they have adjusted their markets to take advantage of the tourist and collectors’ trade. In many ways, this can be very interesting, inasmuch as change itself is interesting. A favorite pottery of the author, for example, is the Brown Pottery at Arden, North Carolina. Founded by brothers Davis and Javan Brown in the late 1920s, it has survived numerous improvements in the succeeding 50 years and is now something of a shrine to technological experimentation every bit as worthy of study as the most conservative potteries in the South. In another decade, our understanding of southern crafts — and of southern life generally — will have expanded enormously. Dozens of research projects are now underway in the field of southern material culture dealing with such dispa- rate topics as Afro-American grave furniture, Georgia potters and quilters, Cajun and Creole fishing technology, and the history and distribution of the folk banjo. The singular advantage researchers working in the South have is the presence of craftsmen who still remember the old ways and who are genuine representa- tives of the cultural learning of generations. In an era of Roots and historic preservation, no area of the United States promises to yield more secrets. Meanwhile, much of the satisfaction in collecting folk crafts comes from knowing the artisans who create them and the social and cultural context out of which these individuals emerge. The objects stand on their own as works of art, but they are also the concrete representation of ideas and a way of life. Knowing how the objects are made, by whom, and why, opens up avenues to understand- ing the ideas and meanings that stand behind the object. 1 Quilting in smoke house, near Hinesville, Ga., 1941 JACK DELANO, FSA 2 Cajun with homespun blankets, near Crowley, La., 1938 RUSSELL LEE, FSA 3 Blacksmith, Abbeville, La., 1938 RUSSELL LEE, FSA PHOTOS FROM LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 19 20 Jo Radner, herself hearing, received her Ph.D. in Celtic Languages and Literature from Har- vard University. She teaches folklore, Celtic studies, and English literature at American University. Simon Carmel, himself deaf, has been collect- ing the folklore of the Deaf Community for several years, and has lectured frequently on the subject. He has been active in both civic and athletic organizations for the deaf, and ts currently a Ph.D. Candidate in Anthropology at American University. contact To Hear a Hand: Deaf Folklore and Deaf Culture By Jo Radner and Simon Carmel This year at the Festival we celebrate the skills and traditions of a cultural minority who, despite their large numbers, frequently pass unnoticed: deaf and hearing-impaired Americans. Recent surveys have shown that nearly 14 million Americans have significant hearing loss. But it is not hearing impairment itself that makes the deaf a cultural group in their own right: it is language and social interaction — the heart of any community. American Sign Language Your lightest word in hand lifts like a butterfly, or folds in liquid motion: each gesture holds echoes of action or shape or reasoning. Dorothy Miles, “To a Deaf Child.” For most deaf people in the United States, American Sign Language, or ASL — created by the deaf for themselves — is the natural, most expressive, and most comfortable form of communication. Linguists’ studies over the past two dec- ades have shown that ASL is a true and separate language, not modeled on any spoken language, fully capable of communicating complex ideas and informa- tion. But ASL “speaks” to the eyes, not the ears: meaning, emphasis and syntax are conveyed by particular hand and arm shapes and movements, facial expres- sions, and body postures. Names, and some English loanwords, are fingerspelled with the manual alphabet. Like every language, ASL has artistic as well as practical dimensions. ASL poems often employ single handshapes or patterned movements throughout, just as Eng- lish poetry often derives its form from devices like meter and rhyme. And just as the hearing enjoy wordplay, the deaf take pleasure in “signplay” — puns and surprising compound signs, witty compressions of form and meaning, inventive name signs that caricature prominent personalities, even “finger-fumblers,” the ASL analogue of tongue twisters. Many forms of “signlore” involve play with the manual alphabet. Sometimes fingerspelling and mime are joined together to give a kind of double identity to a concept, as when the fingers simultaneously dramatize and spell the word D-U-E-L. Other fingerspelling pastimes build on the fact that many signs employ handshapes similar to those of the manual letters and numbers. One very popular tradition is the contriving and performing of stories or scene descriptions using only signs made from the letters of the alphabet in A-to-Z sequence or from a sequence of numbers — for instance, 1 to 6 or 1 to 25. Even the subjects of these narratives tend to be traditional: Gothic murder mysteries, train robberies, auto-driving exploits (and racier topics ) drug hallucinations, cowboys and Indians, and so forth. Like ASL itself, these folk performances highlight the most remarkable talents of the deaf: their visual acuity and dramatic expressiveness. Deaf Culture You hold the Word in hand, and offer the palm of friendship. . . . Dorothy Miles, “To a Deaf Child” Despite recent developments in telecommunications — particularly the TTY, which makes it possible to transmit typed messages over the telephone — deaf Festival of American Folklife General Information Festival Hours Opening Ceremonies for the Festival will be held in the Tent Show tent at 11:00 a.m., Wednesday, June 24. Thereafter, Festival hours will be 11:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. daily, with evening concerts at 7:30 p.m. (except July 4 & 5). Food Sales Serbian American food will be sold in the South Slavic American area, and Southern food will be sold in the Southeast Crafts area. Sales Books, records, T-shirts, and program books relating to Festival programs will be available in the sales tent from 11:00 a.m.- 5:30 p.m. daily. Press Visiting members of the press are invited to register at the Festival press tent on 15th Street near Madison Drive. First Aid _An American Red Cross mobile unit will be set up in a tent on the 15th St. side west of the Festival site, during regular Festival hours. The Health Unit at the South Bus Ramp of the Museum of American History is open from 10:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. Rest Rooms There are public and handicapped facilities located on the northwest corner of the Festival site. Rest rooms are also located throughout the various Smithsonian museums and on the Washington Monument grounds. Telephones Public telephones are available on the Washington Monument grounds and in any of the Smithsonian museums. Lost and Found/Lost Children and Parents Lost items may be turned in or retrieved from the tent located on Madison Drive near the trailer. Lost family members may be found at the administration tent on Madison Drive. We advise putting a name tag on youngsters who are prone to wander. Bicycle Racks Racks for bicycles are located on the Washington Monument grounds and at the entrances to each of the Smithsonian museums. Metro Stations Metro trains will be running cvery day of the Festival. The Festival is served by either the Federal Triangle station or the Smithsonian station. Interpreters for the Deaf Intrepreters for the deaf will be available each day of the Festival in a specified program area. Please see the schedule for particulars. Handicapped Parking There are six spaces on 14th St. for handicapped parking during non rush hours only. Festival Information Penna et Evening Concerts © At 7:30 p.m. each day of the Festival (excepttuly es and held on the Festival Stage. June 24: Festival Sampler June 25: Festival Sampler June 26: Arts Endowment Folk Arts Program June 27: Northeastern Music and Dance ~ On Sunday, July 5, from 5:30 to 7:30 p.m.,a contra dancewillt Craft Sales | and Crafts of the Southeastern United tates a area Craft Exhibition An exhibition tent in the Music and Crafts of the Southeaste rr display an ee ah collection of traditional southeastern ¢ Ci Auctions | ate At 3, p.m. on July « 4 and 5 from the Festival pF the peewee In addition, an auction will be held at 3 p.m. on July 1, 2, and 3 at the musi age it area entitled Music and Crafts of the Southeastern United States. Ite ms made Festival and selected items from the sales tent will be offered at these au ons in cash or personal check dec ; - Films (Museum of American History ) As part of the 1981 Festival of American Folklife, films which have be by the Folk Arts Program of the National Endowment for the Arts w michael auditorium from 1:00-5:00 p.m., June 22 -28. Through such Folk Arts Program helps document traditional art forms and present th outside their home communities. Film topics range from Black tap American musica nortena and from Mohawk basketmaking to Appal Some of the artists featured in the films shown in Carmichael Auditori during the Friday evening concerts on June 26 and July 3 at 7:30 p.m. Stage. 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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 =