Return To Big Rock Candy Mountain

NEW WEBSITE - ScottPomeroy.com

2010-03-23T05:39:00.000-07:00

ScottPomeroy.com takes the place of Returntobigrockcandymountain.com

Links to this blog, as well as music, musings and more.

Day 12 "Show Me The Way To Go Home!"

2009-04-06T07:04:00.000-07:00

I wake up with the skies lightening somewhere near Erie Pennsylvania, and head to the diner car. Not as glamorous as the Empire Builder, to say the least. The Lake Shore Limited means "Limited" in many ways, including perks. I sit down, and a dorky looking guy enters the room and promptly starts whining...

"Where's the Observation Car?"

"Right here!" I reply (holding my arms out to the cheap-looking diner car) "Observe!"

A second guy walks into the diner car wearing dread locks in his hair.

"Leo!" I say aloud to him, but I get no response. He's not Leo, but he looks like his twin. Turns out, his name is Artwon and looks like something out of Milli Vanilli. He's actually another very cool guy, and we have loads of conversation about music, art, culture. etc. Artwon had just gotten back from India, where he had been seeking spiritual enlightenment, but got his laptop stolen instead.

'Ghost Rida' (not his birth name) soon comes in, and now the house is rocking.

"Oh man! did you see the guy that got thrown off the train?"

"Ummm... No, I didn't", I reply in surprise.

He produces and iPhone picture of a U.S. Marshall escort a dark skinned man off.

"I was nervous man", Ghost Rida says.

"Why?" I ask him. "You sound like you are where you are from" (Brooklyn)

"When you is a ni**a like me, who dresses like this, shoots his mouth off, and smells like he ain't showered in six months... you gets nervous!"

This sends me off into uncontrollable laughter.

I like him.

He goes on to tell me that Hip Hop is not the only music he likes, and he is a big fan of Garth Brooks, Tim Mcgraw and Billy Ray Cyrus. He also notices something about my expression around this time.

"Why you makin' that face at me?" he asks.

I don't ask him why he likes any of those bands... but ask him if he has a website, and he says he can be reached at www.myspace.com/ghostrida and I tell him I will link him up with Orange Crush.

I also warn him "don't send me any viruses."

This puzzles him, and he asks"why would I do that?"

After I explain about corrupted hard drives from bad e-mails, he relaxes a little, and laughs.

"ohhhhhh! I thought you meant the other kind of virus."

Just when you thought things could not get any crazier, a bunch of prison guards come on the train, but they are from Canada, and are heading to Boston to play in a hockey tournament for fun. They sit across from me, and ask if they serve alcohol.

I direct them to the bar car.

This should provide me with enough material for another chapter, but so far... they are well-behaved. When I step back into the lounge car, I find out through peripheral conversation that all of the Budweiser is gone! They are soon further plastered on Wisers and Smirnov. Not to worry, because these increasingly rowdy gents are being picked up by the Boston Police, who are waiting for them as escorts in South Station when they arrive (as welcome guests) for a charity hockey tournament in Boston.

We are now nearing Albany New York, and all of the NYC bound riders are getting kicked off to the other end of the train. I am able to stay however, and continue using the 120 Volt outlet to charge my laptop. Now I am having conversation with three college kids from Chicago, who are going to Boston to see the Dropkick Murphy's. I mention that I know their original guitarist, Rick Barton, and they are immediately impressed. I remember when I was like these guys. Not a care in the world, other than getting drunk, rocking out and looking for women. I am not living vicariously through them, because they are all likely sleeping on the floor tonight, and I have a woman waiting for me at home!

I grab my camera as we are stopped, and snap a few pictures of Albany, so that she can see nothing at all has changed in the city where she went to college.

A fourth gentleman is now hanging out in the lounge car. "Cliff" is from LA, and in our brief conversation between train connections, he has given me his life story. He has been kicked around by life enough times for it to show in his otherwise handsome features, looking like a shorter Johnny Knoxville from MTV's "Jackass" show.

He is simply traveling around the country, drinking Coronas... and leering at women.

"I've never been laid on a train", he exclaims lustily. The guy is a wired-up and slightly frayed ball of energy. He is staying with friends in Albany, but he has been on the train all the way from California. He played in a few bands in Napa valley ("we were a WINE band, man!") but came out of it with a nasty divorce, and no money to his name. So now he is looking for the one night stand of his dreams on a train.

But it's not going to happen for him today.

"Helllooooo.... I love youuuuu!!!!" he says through the glass door of the diner car at a pretty girl he has just spotted, but we are now separated from that end of the Lake Shore Limited, as the trip splits up for Boston and New York City. The train separates, and the other car slowly pulls away.

"Awwww! Damn it!!!" Cliff curses. "I had her!!!"

He gets so caught up in talking to me, and confessing his life's misgivings, that he forgets the train has now pulled into Albany/Rennnsalear Station and is going to leave momentarily for Pittsfield, Massachusetts.

"Oh shit! I gotta go!"

He asks me just before he shakes my hand and bolts,

"what's your name again?"

So now it is just me, my camera, my laptop, and a train full of Amtrak's finest.

I am now just one person living in the final moments of a small story - built upon a whim, and involving a little-known novel first published over 60 years ago. These moments are winding down, as I am swaying on a rattling train, slowly descending the Berkshires and picking up speed through Westfield. We are passing familiar landmarks on Route 20, and with one more stop to go... I am coming home.

Where is home?

I come to the birthplace of children's author Doctor Seuss, of Blues musician Taj Mahal, of Smith & Wesson Firearms, and of Basketball. Springfield a city with a colorful past, an underachieving present and a questionable future. I could go on about what I think could be done to make it a more welcome city to explore and discover, without the fear of crossing paths with random violence on the way. But it marks my final stop, and for that reason, I am as glad to see it as I was to see first Eastend, Saskatchewan, Canada.

Because of the story I now get to tell everyone.

(Sun setting on Catskills and Hudson)

Day 11 "Let's Cut It" (Making a record on a train headed for Chicago)

2009-04-06T06:56:00.000-07:00

I spent much of my time on the Montana to Chicago run recording in my sleeper cabin. Sequestered all the way in the front, away from everybody. I recoded dozens of songs, and got quite a bit of work done. I also slept very well - although I woke up every time the train stopped. There was a delay somewhere around Fargo. Just before the sun comes up, I get up for some coffee and breakfast in the diner car, and then go back to my roomette to record for several hours. Around Minneapolis, I emerge from my bunker.

Later on in Wisconsin, I take a picture of the Mighty Mississippi, as we cross over the bridge.

Around Milwaukee, there are hardly any people on the train. Because of the delays earlier in North Dakota - some people missed their connections, and would have to take a bus. I have 4 hours to wait in Chicago, so I am fine. I tip my servant, Dennis a $10 bill and a couple of guitar picks (he is a beginner on guitar, so he tells me.)

Once I make it into Chicago, I start taking tons of photos. I instinctively start walking in the direction that leads me to the "cool stuff"... and I find it!

After a few hours, I head back to Union Station, and get some Mexican food and a few beers. I call my wife, and she tells me that The Valley Advocate is running a full column about my trip, complete with photo!

I celebrate with a can of Guinness.

While at the bar, I encounter a drunk fellow named Jamie. He claims to have been a huge part of the metal scene somewhere... but has just gotten his card declined to pay his bar tab, and they are having difficulty confirming his other card. A policeman is hovering close by, and the situation is growing tense. He leaves to get some money, and almost leaves behind his iPhone. He's a mess!

I finish up my beer and decide it's time for me to get moving. I get my bags from the locker, and get aboard the train that will take me back to Springfield. As I wait in line I meet two people who are into music. One is a dreadlocked guy named Leo. He talks about Metallica and Pantera with great passion, but is heading to NYC to visit a terminally ill relative. Very sad story, but he's a nice guy, and we wait together for the line to move.

I soon meet a second guy who is a hip hop artist from Brooklyn named "Ghost Rida".

The front half of the train is for people going to Boston, and the rear is for everyone going to NYC, so I don't see those guys after we board (or so I thought... more on that later). My car is one of the older, and kind of crummy looking one's. It rocks around all over the place, and makes typing very difficult. I turn off my laptop, and fall asleep without too much problem. At this point, the rocking of the train is like being in a locomotive-powered cradle.

PICTURES can be seen at www.RETURNTOBIGROCKCANDYMOUNTAIN.com

Day 10 - "Living The Hi Life On The Hi Line"

2009-04-04T07:07:00.000-07:00

(Room #20)

I may never fly again!

After I spent 2 days riding coach on the way out here (and not getting a whole lot of sleep, or back, shoulder, neck, or leg comfort) I decided to upgrade my coach ticket for a sleeper cab (or "roomette"). At first, the cost of $150-$175 may seem daunting, but you have to consider a few additional perks, which you don't truly appreciate until you actually try it.

Well, let me tell you what you get, and then you can try it yourself.

First: Rather than sit with the rest of the riff-raff (which in my case, would have been a family sharing the same cold sitting next to me) and experimenting with sleeping in different positions across two uncomfortable seats, with a crease in the middle that will, without fail, find your hips or ribs at a pressure point, and render them numb (if you are lucky) - You get a private cabin, with two seats that fold into a very comfortable layout, and additional bedding and mattress that make it the best futon you have ever slept on!

Second: Rather than pay for hot dogs and nuked sandwiches at over-inflated prices (which I did coming out here on coach) - you get a FREE dinner, breakfast and lunch (my dinner alone was salmon, baked potato, salad and a peanut butter chocolate torte, which I could not finish).

Third: On a trip that lasts for over 24 hours, and leaves you momentarily shivering anytime someone comes thru the cars (and it was NINE BELOW ZERO when I left Havre Montana that afternoon) - you get a climate controlled room, complimentary water, and a door you can close, making it quiet and secure.

Fourth: when you have a battery draining away on your laptop, they provide an outlet for you to power your devices (so I can write this as long as I want!)

Fifth: Rather than stew in your own funk, after sitting in the same unchanged clothes and unwashed skin - you have a shower you can use, and upgraded bathrooms that don't look like an outdoor port-o-let at a Phish concert.

All of these things are presently making this experience much more enjoyable, as a blizzard is raging outside somewhere in Minot, North Dakota. I have a private window showing me just how miserable it is out there right now. Earlier I had an amazing view of the wildlife in Eastern Montana, as Pronghorn Antelope grazed on prairie grass.

I was enjoying the company of three women from different parts of the country. (St. Paul, Oregon, and Montana) and I split a bottle of Columbia Crest Shiraz with one of them... for $7.00) and I am living the high life.

Just thought you all should know, because the next time you find yourself on a cross country trip, and decide that the extra money is a wasteful idea... think again!

A side note: I am in the extreme front of the the train, and it is quiet as a mouse. Most of this car is reserved for the staff, but they decided to give me a roomette with them, and there is less than 1/4 of the 20 rooms taken. Hope they are not too surprised when they hear the sound of a banjo being played tomorrow somewhere in Minnesota!

2009-03-24T09:09:00.000-07:00

Music Video From Day #11

Day Nine - Part Two ("Road To Nowhere")

2009-03-10T09:10:00.000-07:00

Day Nine (Road To Nowhere)

I'm doing it in reverse today. Sort of.

After the rough ride I experienced outside of Climax last week, I decided to take a different route on my way home. Shaving 20 minutes off of my drive, but much of that on gravel or dirt roads.

At least they are maintained roads.

For the part of my trip that goes past Robsart, I experience nothing new. I pass the ghost town, and then head towards Consul.

Another grain tower.

Arriving in Consul. The road splits to either Alberta, or to Montana. Neither are paved, and neither have much traffic, houses... or anything!

But there's plenty to see. There's nothing in the way.

I see a prairie dog.

Hey guy!

I'm nearing the US Border, and after my last go around with the border officials in Canada, I was a little more relaxed. I have nothing to hide. But still, I always end up feeling interrogated. It's their job, and I respect that. I just hope they respect me.

The temperature reads around -2 degrees as I pull up to the gate.

I am greeted by a serious-looking gentleman, with an important job to do.

"what were you in Canada for, sir"

I hand him my passport card, and the poster for the show I just played.

"Business?"

"More like a vacation."

"Any firearms?"

"No, sir."

"prescription drugs?"

"Nope."

"Alcohol?"

"I left two cans of Guinness behind me that I brought in last week."

(smile)

"any fruit?"

"Just a couple of snack packets"

"are you carrying any cash over $10,000.00?"

"Nope.

(I wish!)

"so what do you do for a living, Scott?"

"I'm a musician."

"mind if we search your bags?"

"Go right ahead."

The windows and lift gate have been open for awhile and it's freezing cold. I'm starting to get a little bored. It's around this time that I decide to earn a little official respect, as I recently took a part time job back in Hadley, Massachusetts, but usually don't bust this fact out on people... until now.

"I also work at the US Department Of Fish & Wildlife Services."

"Woah."

The man looking through my stuff immediately stops, and stands straight up. He's fairly impressed by this news.

"It's no big deal, I just move a few boxes and sweep up a bit around the offices."

(the questions stop - they are all done with me here)

"Good to see you sir. Have a good day."

Descending into Havre... I get some nice mountain shots.

"Mountains come out of the sky... and they stand there..."

Tomorrow: I will get back on the Empire Builder (in a light snowstorm, with wind chills of -35) and head back home to Massachusetts (via Chicago). I plan on upgrading to a sleeper car, and that will be the last part of my story. This has been an experience to remember for a lifetime! I have been welcomed back to Eastend anytime I want, and the Stegner House is mine to live in when that time comes.

That time will come soon enough.

Day Nine ("It's A Wrap")

2009-03-10T05:19:00.000-07:00

"What The Heck Are You Thinking"?

It's coming full circle, now.

I asked myself that same question 6 months ago, when I bought my train tickets, and confirmed that I was indeed coming thousands of miles across America, into the most remote area of Southern Canada. Now it is for a different reason that I again ask that question of myself.

It's 4:00AM... and I am up and working!

I'm a musician, not a farmer!

I fell asleep around 10PM last night, so I got my minimum 6 hours sleep. Thoughts had been racing through my head all night about all the things I still need and want to do. I need to clean the house; I need to record some songs; I need to photograph "Scotty The Dinosaur"; I need to get posters from the show I played, and then I need to pack. That's just a sample of the activities I have to accomplish before I can relax, and do the rest of the things I feel are necessary in the final day at the Stegner House.

A few days ago - I went to The T-Rex Museum to see their exhibit on several dinosaurs (including "Scotty The T-Rex" - found right here in town, and the sole reason the state-of-the-art museum exists in a town of only 600 people). I was so busy preparing for the show, I forgot my camera, and I also forgot the extra money I needed to buy things at the gift shop there.

So I return for a few minutes.

Every kid loved dinosaurs at one time in their lives, and I was one of them. I used to draw them all of the time. Many of my friends have kids now, and they love dinosaurs too! It would be a shame if I did not take a bunch of pictures, and buy some gifts here and there.

Check!

I have brought a banjo with me out here to Eastend to record music I have written for the record for "Return To Big Rock Candy Mountain", and many of those songs I played at the concert for the first time. It would be a crime, if I did not record the folk song that got me going on the concept - the same song that inspired the book by Stegner. I got a crazy idea of using some of Stegner's voice off of the video tape here in the house. On it - he recites a spoken word verse of the song. It's supposed to be a happy song about a hobo, but when he delivers it... it sounds like a eulogy.

I think he got it right actually. I tape the song off of the television, and then transfer it to my lap top recording studio... and then play the music over it.

Check!

I started cleaning the house last night, so that part wont take long. Same with the the laundry. But then I am in the basement using the washer and dryer - I come across all kinds of things, and my imagination starts to run wild!

I get my camera, and take pictures of the reset of the house I have not photographed yet.

Check!

At the far end of the house, behind the kitchen, there is a tiny guest bedroom. I don't recall anybody in the book sleeping here, since Chet and Bruce (fictitious names for Wallace and his brother) shared the room upstairs that was my study for the week. But I take a quick shot of that as well.

See why I am up at 4AM?

It was 18 degrees below zero when I woke up. It is now around the balmy temperature of -2 degrees! The sun is shining, the wind is low... a good day to travel. I was thinking of staying overnight one last time, but I would have to leave around 8AM (just after dawn) and a snow squall is coming in overnight, so I decide to leave today.

I call Ethel on the phone, and tell her goodbye, and thank her for taking me out to dinner when i arrived last week. She sounds sad to not see me one last time, and I confess that i feel the same. I assure her I will be coming back soon with my wife, to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary in less than 2 years.

I take out the garbage in the back yard, and I snap a picture of the water pump that has been restored. The car is packed, and idling, and I take a few pictures of the porch, and the front entrance. I make one last idiot check, and decide one more picture needs to be taken.

(sigh...) Check.

I slowly drive away, and say goodbye to Big Rock Candy Mountain.

Day Eight "Sunday"

2009-03-10T04:14:00.000-07:00

I thought I would get a lot of stuff done on this day.

But it's Sunday... and everything is closed.

I took a quick drive around town, and took a couple of shots.

Then I went back inside, and covered the previous day's events.

Day Seven - House party

2009-03-08T13:50:00.000-07:00

This is the concert/dinner/event that celebrates the 100th anniversary of Wallace Stegner's birth. When I negotiated coming out here in the near-dead of winter, it was only because that was when this event was taking place. Artists residency and performing the show made perfect sense. It gave me a special motivation, and was the prime catalyst for planning the journey.

I also thought that it would be a small group of people gathered in the house, and I would play in the living room.

Not in front of 300+ people!

The PA was supplied by a local band "The Ranchmen" (who practice in an adjoining rehearsal space). We hung out the afternoon before, and got to know each other - Darrell, Duane, James, & Boyd - and we jammed on some rock and some country flavored stuff. I got to play a Fender Stratocaster with them, and promptly ripped it up... Clapton style!

The name "Ranchmen" is aptly applicable - all of them work on farms except one (who works in an auto garage). Some bands might pose as rugged country types, but these guys walk the walk with their way of life!

Among the early crowd were Ethel and Ken, and I did a sound check about 4 hours before I was to go on. Afterwards, I went home and got changed. Later on, I came back and watched as the people started filing in.

"woah..."

I started to get a little nervous... I had a bunch of original songs scrawled on a paper, but I was not sure what order I was going to play anything. After a few Cokanie's (Glacier Lager) some salad, and lots of meat and potatoes, I got a coffee and some cheesecake. I met tons of people and I made them all sign a copy of one of Stegner's paperbacks ("Living and Writing In the West") Everybody was very nice, and I was the ONLY American in the house. Some people were familiar with where I was from, had been to Massachusetts. Some were even familiar with Northampton! Just as I was starting to relax... I heard a thick Norway/French Canadian accent on the
PA system announcing the event.

"Pleese Wilcomb Scowet Loweson Powemiroy!"

I brought my half finished coffee with me to the stage, and got down to business.

SETLIST

Little Live Thing
Elsa (Westbound Running Train)
Room To Roam
Closer To The Fire
Ring Of Fire (Johnny Cash)
I Still Miss Someone (Johnny Cash)
----short break----
Nothing Left To Talk ABout But The Weather
Black Sheep Son
Whitemud

And like a flash... it was over!

We got a few pictures, some video that is still being processed, and I taped the whole show direct off of the board (it came out a little too hot) and probably can salvage a few tunes for some streaming audio. It was well-received by the mixed-age (but mostly older) crowd. I had no idea what to expect.

Afterwards: When many had gone home and the tables and chair at the Eastend Memorial Hall were put away... music was still echoing thru the empty hall.

The remaining gang were buying me drinks of Rye, which I graciously accepted, but I was pretty wiped out by 11:30PM. I had to shut it down.

However, I have made so many new friends, and was reveling in being the "toast of the town", I am already contemplating making it back someday with my wife (when the weather is warmer).

They won't let me say no!

Day Six - Ghost Town

2009-03-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

It's time for me to take advantage of this weather.

No, it's not warm out (it was when I first got here, but the last couple of days have been chilly and very windy) but the sun is shining bright, and the wind has calmed down.

It's still cold... but it's a dry cold.

I hop into my Vibe (mine for another week, at least) and drive out to take photographs of the next town to the West of Eastend. Robsart.

Recent census reports have put the population of Robsart at anywhere between 11 and 8. Locals think that is a stretch. They only know of one family that lives there, on a farm. (Livestock outnumbers people in this area, and possibly in all of the province.)

I start up the hill, and see the cliffs on either side of me. As I rise to the plateau, I can see the valley spread out before me, and the prairies that go on until the eye can no longer see.

Robsart is over 40 miles away, and I have 1/2 tank of gas. I should have no problem getting there and back (I end up only using less than a quarter tank round trip, and have 700 free miles for my rental). But, as I see desolate flatness, and near total lack of civilization, I start to worry a bit.

"What if the car breaks down, or I get a flat?"
"Will there be anyone who can help me out?"
"How many cars will pass by?"
"Will there be anyone at all?"

There is a little bit of traffic. Once every 5 minutes or so, a car or a truck passes. They often wave at you as they go by... which I found confusing the first time this happened (when I was in Wyoming in the early '90s) Instinctively, I stopped the car, got out and checked my tires... nothing wrong.

They were just being friendly.

What is this friendliness thing?

In New England, when someone waves at you from their car, it's usually not with the whole hand... it's just with on finger!

My fears are subsided when I see the sign for Robsart. I almost miss it, because you can barely notice there is a town at all. But I slow down, and I turn left to discover a cluster of old houses. Most of them look dilapidated, and some are boarded up. I notice some of the derelict abodes still have Christmas lights hanging outside.

"For how many years?" I wonder.

The outside temperature reads 2 degrees, but the sunlight is deceptive. It seems like it should be warmer, but it's not. I still inside my car to take my shots. I roll down the windows to get a clear image, and feel the cold on my face, and in my nostrils/lungs. I had thought to go inside a few of these places to get intimate photos of the ghost houses, but not in these conditions.

I do notice one car idling with an old man inside. "Somebody does live here" I thought. He doesn't look too friendly. he wonders what I am up to, I'll bet. many artists and passers-through take pictures of this area, so he probably does not have to wonder much.

I'm not a vandal... there's nothing to steal!

I keep driving slowly, and shoot more pictures.

Just as I reach a spot where I discover a yard full of old junk cars on my right... I am startled by a large black dog, that comes out of nowhere from my left. Behind this animal is a house that has 2 functional looking cars in the driveway.

"okay, there's one more confirmed resident, at least."

I stop the car, snap the dog's picture, and slowly back the car up... which now convinces the dog that he has the 'upper paw' on me, and keeps up it's dogged pursuit.

I take a few more pictures of an intersection to nowhere, and head back to Eastend. (seeing a herd of 50 deer in one field, and a white horse against the white landscape... which I would have missed, had it not been for the dark object behind it!)

Day Five - Whitemud

2009-03-06T19:49:00.000-08:00

(View from the backyard of the Frenchman River)

I have been setting up shop, so to speak.

It was a good thing I took some more pictures around the house and in Eastend when I arrived, because the previous weather of near 40 degrees has been replaced by frigid temps and a howling wind that never stops. The Cypress Hills (Highest Elevation in Saskatchewan) are right outside my window. Tall pine trees surround the house, and are the only ones of their kind here in town. The sweet smell of pine nettles fill my sinuses every time I enter the house. Badlands surround the town, Coyote howl at night and deer scat is all around the backyard near the frozen Frenchman River - nicknamed "Whitemud" for the deposits of white clay around the valley.

(view from the window of the study - Stegner's Childhood Bedroom)

(view of Cypress Hills from backyard)

I had horrible nightmares sleeping in the house the first night. I don't know why. I don't believe in ghosts, but Wallace Stegner did say he would haunt the place, just to see what goes on. However, his father built the house, and he was a scary guy. He met his demise 2 decades later in Salt lake City - when he murdered his estranged lover, and turned the gun on himself in a hotel lobby. If he showed up last night... then he saw me sleeping in the bed he once shared with his wife!

I had a wonderful dinner at Jack's Cafe with Ethel and Ken Willis of the Eastend Arts Council. Ethel is a charming woman with a quiet voice and is full of conversation. The flat iron T-Bone sirloin that is in front of me is sizzling so loud, I can barely hear her talk for a bit. Ken is even quieter. He is a man of few words, but he is respected around town - A hard worker, and no-nonsense kind of guy. It is only when the subject of their children (grand and great-grand children) come up that he starts to really engage in conversation.

I go into the local bank to exchange my US currency to Canadian dollars. It's 20 cents to the dollar in our favor, and so I get nearly $75 in return. Hot dog! In fact, hot dogs is among the few choices you have out here... as long as it's meat, you are fine. Steak, steak and more steak. Oh yeah, and Bison Sausage. $75 gets you a lot of steak, eggs, bread, milk, OJ and whiskey (the latter I purchased in the back of a florist... they recognize me as I walk in... those posters are EVERYWHERE).

I settle back into the house, and I start getting ready to record, but the phone rings- it's the soundman for the show. Darrell has been wanting to meet me for some time, and I invite him over. Darrell plays in a country band called the Ranchmen. I used to play in a band called The Ranch, and so we have plenty to talk about. We are not so far apart, and when the conversation about Hockey comes up... he lights up. I used to live in Boston, and followed enough of the Bruins to know of Gordie Kluzak, and everybody out here knows Gordie.

Darrell and I head over to the Community Arts Center and see where I am playing on Saturday. he also loans me an acoustic guitar for the show. Their rehearsal space is in the room next door, and it has amps everywhere! I eventually return to the house, but now I am starving. I make one of my steaks and I attempt to do some recording, I only get a couple of songs done, and they are little more than sketchy demos. I am slowly resigning myself to the fact that I am doing so much writing, that all I will be able to do are demos, and they will likely be live ones... with little overdubbing. I look at the clock and it is 10PM. I give up on the recording, and resume writing. I have many friends to contact, and my wife especially misses me. She has been holding down the fort, and I am in constant contact with her, I have no Cel Phone and no TV reception, only a stack of VHS tapes. I pop one in that says "Wallace Stegner - House Copy".

It is his life documentary - made shortly after his death in the early '90s. Narrated by Robert Redford! I get to learn more and more about the man. Pictures of him are all over the house, and his spirit is forever embedded on the walls.

Paging Wallace Stegner (Day Four Continued)

2009-03-05T18:11:00.000-08:00

Paging Wallace Stegner (Day Four Continued)

This is what I have been anticipating for nearly a year. Every detail, every weather forecast, Mapquest direction, Farmer's Almanac chart, Tripadvisor.com review, etc.

But most of all, was the house.

I left Harlem, and took a road north towards the Canada border. The land starts to rise and I rise with it.

The topography spreads out before me. It stretches until you cant see it anymore - One long, wide, flat plain. The snow has melted so much, that wheat and corn stalks show their yellow poking out of the brown earth, Prairie Dogs run about the fields, and birds flicker about across the road in a near suicidal manner.

I turn on the satellite radio for the first time (183 channels) and the first song I hear is "Devil Woman" by Cliff Richard (first time in 10 years, at least) followed by "What Is Life" by George Harrison. Then I hear some comedy by Lewis Black, who is ranting about Jermaine Jackson naming his kid "Jermajesty". I burst out laughing.

I get caught up in this a little too much, because up ahead, I suddenly see the International Border. It says STOP AND PARK HERE. I stop the car, gather my passport card, and get out to walk into the building.

Bad idea!

A head pops out of the window of the office, and says to me in a stern voice.

"Sir? please get back in your car and drive to the window!"

"okay", I reply (feeling like an idiot).

I pull up, as if I am at a drive-thru bank teller.

"where are you coming from, and what is the nature of your visit?"

I explain the nature of my visit in no small detail, but I am never good at making consistent eye contact with anyone. This immediately makes him suspicious.

"what is this 'artist residency'?'

I explain again, including the benefit show I am to play on the 7th.

"Do you have any alcoholic beverages in the car?"

"Just a couple of cans of Guinness"

I detect a slight smile, his teeth are brown - like he has been eating baked beans and bacon.

He still doesn't buy my explanation of the benefit show, and he wants more details.

I offer him to look at the copy of the poster for the event, and he readily accepts it.

"I'll be back with this and your passport in a moment"

(tenseness ensues...)

He comes back with more questions.

"Have you ever been to Canada before?"

"Yes sir"

"Have you ever been arrested before, or been denied entry into the country?"

"No sir"

He hands me back my documents and says, "Enjoy your visit"

Relieved: I respond, in a near breathless, "Thank you"

I pull the car up about 50 feet, and naturally take another picture.

Now I head towards Climax (birthplace of former Boston Bruin, Gordie Kluzak) and I snap a picture of the grain tower (every town has one out here).

A few seconds later, I nearly drop my camera as the pavement disappears underneath me.

"WHAT THE FUCK???" I yell, as the car starts bouncing around.

Turns out, they are ripping up the pavement for several miles, and the road is now reduced to loose dirt and rocks.

I can't shift into All Wheel Drive on the fly, and I don't dare stop, for fear the car will sink into the soft dirt, so I skitter along as if I am driving on the worst beach ever. All the joy and serenity I previously held, is now replaced by grave concern!

My GPS device does not guide me into Canada, and I see no road signs. I can only assume I am going the right way. Eventually the road becomes repaved, and I continue for the next 40 minutes into Shaunavon.

The countryside looks prehistoric once again, as I descend into the Frenchman River Valley. As I turn West towards Eastend, I see small oil pumping rigs, and the previously ultra-clean air smells like gas.

Eventually, things clear up, and the final 10 miles are serene.

I am now in Eastend.

I need no directions at this point, as I have been researching the town for a year. I instinctively turn onto Tamarack Ave North, as if Wallace Stegner himself is guiding me.

And there it is.

I park the car, snap one last picture, and step inside.

There is a note on the door for me, containing the key.

My hands shake a little as I open it, and only read a little of the note as I grab the key and unlock the door.

It reads: "Welcome to the Stegner House, Scott"

I look up the stairs to where I will be staying for the next week, as a year's worth of plans, and 15 years of literary admiration have built up to the final release.

I'm finally here.

"Harlem Shuffle" (Day Four Continued)

2009-03-05T09:54:00.000-08:00

"Harlem Shuffle" (Day Four Continued)

After leaving Bear Paw Battlefield: I continued along the Hi Line (Route 2 - and very similar to the Mohawk Trail in Massachusetts, only flattter). My next town would be Harlem, Montana. Harlem is not at all like the Harlem that we know in the Northeast. It has a tiny population, and it is mostly made up of native Americans. A reservation abuts the town, and I stopped at the one gas station to top off the tank in my car (I had been advised to do this whenever possible, because you never know where the next place to get gas will come about, and you don't want to run out of fuel out here!)

At first glance, it looked like any other Gas station. The difference is that instead of a Subway or a Dunkin Donuts, Pete's Mexican Food is what you can get.

I also notice that out of the half dozen or so people in the gas station... I am the only white person. It was not my intention to go inside, but after fueling with my debit card, and pressing receipt it said "SEE ATTENDANT INSIDE FOR RECEIPT". So I venture in.

I am greeted by a stoic looking man with half his teeth missing. But I get the feeling he is not smiling because I am not one of them. He was smiling and chatting with the woman who was in front of me, but when I step up (after a sullen pause and hardly a glance at me) I get, "yes?"

"I'm just here to get the receipt for the gas at the pump next to the blue car"

another pause...

"I need your card"

"but I already used my card to pay for it"

"if you want a receipt, I need to swipe your card again"

Now it is my turn to pause... as I am ready to say "forget it", but instead I hand him the card a second time.

As he swipes my card, I notice a bunch of cigarette lighters in the display case next the register.

A KISS ARMY CIGARETTE LIGHTER - complete with Gene, Paul, Peter and Ace's images clearly printed on the front.

I am struck by irony - as I wonder if he would treat those four VERY PALE FACED New Yorkers (from Queens, as opposed to Harlem) with the same lack of friendliness he currently is showing to me?

I even say "thank you" as he is printing the receipt, but he simply shoves the paper at me... looking away the entire time.

Nice! After I visited Bear Paw Battlefield, and actually felt bad that my ancestors nearly exterminated his people. But I digress. To him, I am clearly just another ignorant white tourist.

I hop into my car, and as I pull away, I notice another sign on the side of the gas station announcing additional services (to go with gas, mexican food, and cigarette lighters) It reads in very large letters.

CASINO

Day Four (Bear Paw Battlefield - Chinook)

2009-03-05T05:05:00.000-08:00

Bear Paw Battlefield

I wake up around 7AM, and turn on the weather channel to find that the temperature is 27 degrees and sunny. After a so-so continental breakfast, I finished my blogging for the previous day's adventures. I wanted to wait until things warmed up a little, but by 10AM, could wait no longer. I had called Ethel from the Eastend Arts Council to tell her I would leave around Noon, and so this gave me some time to walk around a little more before leaving Havre.

I stepped outside to find blazing sunshine and temperatures in the 40s once again. The Chinook winds are blowing for a second day, and this is making everyone very happy. According to the woman at the front desk, this has been the best weather they have had in months!

As I walked around the block... I found a Salvation Army store. I have been shopping for clothes at the 'Salvation Armani' for a good 10 years now. Almost everything I wear was previously worn by somebody else, at four times the price or more. No such luck this time around, however, as I was hoping that some college students from Montana State Northern had dumped off their unwanted threads, but as I looked through the garments, I find nothing but a small bunch of XLs. They breed 'em big in Montana.

As I walked out of the store... I noticed a small group of Amish looking women coming in. (Huttites, actually). I have been in a great mood all along, so I held open the door for them. The first woman said "thank you", and the rest stared at me like I was an ex-convict. This would not be the last time I was to get a cold look from a small group of people. More on that later.

I checked out of the hotel and hit the road for Chinook: The next town on my way to Saskatchewan. I am stunned by the constant view of badlands and mountains. I half-expect dinosaurs to appear around the bend, and pterodactyls to hover above me. Nothing but Seagulls and Cranes. Chinook has only about 100 people, but some 20 miles to the south lies Bear Paw Battlefield - site of the last battle between the Native Americans and the U.S. troops.

Driven back after the battle of Little Big Horn : It was here that the famous line was uttered "from this day on, I will fight no more, forever." As I get closer to the historical site... the Bear Paw Mountains grow ever closer. My GPS guides me along Cleveland Road. (Other roads are called New York Road, Arizona Road, etc.) I spot a sign that indicates where I should turn off and park. The temperature is still in the 40s, with only a light wind blowing.

I step out of the car with my camera, and take a walk around.

After a good 20 minutes, I noticed it was almost Noon, and it was time for me to return back to the main road to continue on my way to Saskatchewan. I am overwhelmed with joy that I had such grand weather in which to make this little side trip, and I drive north... with the badlands in front of me and the Bear Paws to the South!

Havre, From All Angles (Day Three Continued)

2009-03-04T20:13:00.001-08:00

Havre Montana is a railroad town. It also has a small college. I arrive to find that the Chinook winds are warming up the area. Where it was 40 below wind chills, it is now 43 above.

Sweet.

After 48 hours on a train wearing the same clothes and using Handi Wipes as my only hygienic purpose... I feel funky.

I need to take a shower ASAP. I walk with my luggage a mere 2 blocks, where I encounter the El Toro Inn (Spanish for "The Toro") For $60, I get a large room, with a huge desk, wi-fi and a flat screen TV. The Weather Channel says I will have one more day of this nice weather, before things turn back to winter.

Better make the best of it.

I call the rent-a-car place, and Rose (my agent) says she was looking for me at the station. (She's never seen me before, how would she know what I looked like?)

She drives back down to the hotel and picks me up to take me into the dealership, where I fill out the remaining paperwork.

I thought I was getting a Chevy Cobalt for my rental, but it turns out I get an AWD Pontiac Vibe.

Sweet!

I drive back to the hotel, and take a walk around town, get a few groceries. A sandwich wrap, a bag of chips and 4 pack of Guinness. Truly the Irish 6 Course Meal.

I stash the food in my mini fridge, and stretch my legs a bit.

Havre has a nice downtown, but many of the old buildings are empty. The ones that are occupied are often Casinos.

I'm not a gambler, but I am fascinated by the presence of all these places. Truly bizarre at times.

My leg muscles feel like they have atrophied from sitting on the train for so long, so after a several blocks... I am starting to fade. I go back to my hotel and start in on my dinner. In the morning, I will prepare to drive 3 hours to Saskatchewan, and maybe see a few things in nearby Chinook. The El Toro has a "no bull" aspect to it - quiet, clean, and almost brand spankin' renovated. The price was hard to beat, and there were some scary looking hotels I could have chosen instead.

Notice the long desk... ideal for blogging AND eating... and the flat screen TV.

Suite!

Day Three (Desolation Snow Angels)

2009-03-04T06:52:00.000-08:00

Welcome To The Geographical Center Of North America.
(Otherwise known as Nowhere... keep going, until you are in the middle of it!)

I had a pretty crappy night's sleep. One night across two train seats is fine, but two is asking too much in return. At least I had my eyes closed.

We stopped in Minneapolis for an hour, and the train had to switch engines, re-fuel, or something. I woke up again, and we were in Fargo. Woke up again, and it was somewhere called Devil's Lake.

Not too many people on the train at this point, since many of them got off in Fargo and Grand Forks. As the sun rises, I see a few shapes on the frozen prairie, that turn out to be foxes. It looks brutal outside. When the Weather Channel talks about the arctic high that keeps pushing into the country... they are talking about here.

After what seems like forever, we leave North Dakota. I notice that the geography starts to change and some cliffs appear in the distance. This is the start of Montana, and the next phase of my journey.

The Fort Peck Lake and the Missouri River are down there somewhere.

Badlands, and low lying mountains appear. I start furiously taking snapshots. The snow is starting to melt away in places. Mule Deer are seen running away from the train, and Pronghorn Antelope are seen grazing unfazed near the tracks. Soon, I encounter the town of Glasgow.

Not at all like the one in Scotland.

I only have a few more hours before I reach Havre, Montana. On the edge of the horizon, I spot the Little Rocky Mountains, and the Bear Paw Mountains.

I say goodbye to my friend Anthony, and I gather my belongings (banjo and laptop included) and prepare to disembark from this incredible train ride.

Day Two Continued (The Empire Builder)

2009-03-04T06:38:00.000-08:00

3:41PM (Empire Builder)

At last! I am leaving Chicago. After wolfing down a most delicious corned beef and swiss on rye - I boarded the Empire Builder for Havre, Montana. The train goes all the way to Seattle & Portland, and is the most popular train that heads to the West Coast. In early March, I don't think it is going to be all that busy. I was able to nab a front seat on the upper level, and quickly stretched out with my lap top and my digital camera to upload my pics.

Snow squalls are happening, but it looks like it wont be too bad. Who cares? I'm on a train. This is one of the reasons I opted against flying. A huge blizzard has paralyzed the East coast, and many flights have been canceled. The train keeps on rolling. I did very well on my earlier trip, but I may or may not decide to get a sleeper car. We will see how it goes. My ticket agent is very friendly, and that is always a plus. Many people I chat with are only going as far as Minneapolis. Although I am sure others will get on to travel the rest of the way. I could write off the roomette if I wanted, but how much better sleep would I get? For the sake of the experience, I could give it a shot on the way back.

So far, so good,

6:00PM (somewhere in Wisconsin)
After a brilliant, warming sunset, and the warming glow of my second spirit beverage, I return to my seat to find a fresh pillow waiting for me, These people are taking good care of us. Milwaukee was colder and snowier looking than Chicago, but Northern Wisconsin looks fairly tolerable in contrast. There is not much snow, and the before mentioned sunset was deceptively warming. As we got on the train in Chicago, I encountered a gentleman from NYC who was headed to the end of the line and then down to California to see his brothers, Anthony had worked as an administrator for a homeless. He took some time off, and was on his own sabbatical. We chatted about Van Morrison, the Blues, upstate NY, etc. He was a nice guy. now I am back in my seat and realizing I am less than a day away from getting off of this train.

Dinner was announced, but is hugely expensive. I have more of my cat food-like ham salad to keep me going instead.

I will fall asleep and wonder what the
morning shall bring.

It will bring North Dakota.

Chicago (Day Two Continued)

2009-03-03T18:39:00.000-08:00

9:15AM
"The Windy City" did not get it's nickname for nothing. The moment I stepped outside to have a look at the area around Union Station, I discovered a piercing breeze that nearly took my ears off. I also found I was going the wrong way... thanks to my new friend, Eugene.

"Gene" saw me walking around The Great Hall with my guitar case, and went straight for me.

"Hey! is that a banjo you got there?", he asked me.

"Uh... yeah." (I warily replied.)

"You don't see to many people around these parts who play the banjo."

"I guess not".

Eugene said to me, "If you are trying to see downtown, you need to go the other way."

"Follow me."

Reluctantly, I changed direction.

"You know what is the in the way you were going before? The hood."

"I was just gonna walk around the block" I explained to him. (Not sure where I was going at all.)

Eugene suddenly exclaimed, "Look up."

And there was the Sears Tower.

I figured it was only a matter of time before hit hit me up for some money, and he did. At least I got a few things out of it.

A copy of The Onion.

A post card of Chicago.

and a post card of President Obama.

I suppose that was worth the $6 he got out of me.

Union Station is an amazing place... not so much the station itself, but the adjacent Great Hall.

Here is where I encountered "DJ Super Sketchy" (I just made that name up, since I never bothered to get his real name.)

He was wearing inner-city wear (unlike Eugene, who was a homeless local) and was from suburban Milwaukee,

"Yo! you play guitar?"

"It's a banjo" I said. (At least the homeless dude knew what it was, but not this dude!)

"A banjo?"

"I play guitar too."

"Check it out... I'm a Dee Jay", he exclaims. Afterwards, he starts playing music (he claims is his own) on his cel phone. It sounded suspiciously like ring-tones you can download for free.

"I'm waiting for my girl, man. If she don't show soon, I'm gonna bug. But I like talking' to people. Most of them is stuck up."

"uh huh", I said. "People are busy, I guess they got things on their mind."

"This phone sucks, man. It's one of those pre-paid shit things, and if I don't get $2.00, I wont be able to make anymore calls."

(ahh! here it comes!)

"so, can I get a couple of bucks from you?"

"sorry, dude."

"That's cool, I'll find it somewhere else. Later."

So, Chicago turns out to be the city of big balls, as well as big shoulders.

Day Two

2009-03-03T18:23:00.000-08:00

Day Two (Somewhere in Ohio and Indiana)

7:00AM

After sleeping sideways across 2 seats at 1-2 hours at a time (eventually, I got the hang of positioning myself so that the crease in the middle did not give me spasms) I woke up around 1AM in Buffalo to a Federal Border Marshall dressed in green.

He asked me how I was doing and what country I was from. By my slow and somewhat dazed response, I was not sure if he would believe me. However, he quickly moved along.

Around 4AM I woke up and saw that I was in Cleveland, just outside of Browns Stadium. At 6AM, two students on either side of me got off of the train, and things looked pretty desolate on board. I close my eyes again, and later wake up to Toledo. I text a few friends, and send love notes to my wife ("hello, Cleveland, I miss U") and when I wake up again, the sun is rising, and I snap a few shots of the flat Ohio landscape, Then I go get a coffee.

The food is what you would expect, I suppose... nuked sandwiches at $6 a pop. The same ones that would cost around $4 in a 7-11. The woman at the diner car was very cheery, and that made the spongy, piping hot bread seems a little more palatable, It turns out that this is her first train trip on the job, after spending several years as a flight attendant.

8AM (Indiana)
After my coffee, I decide to brave the handicapped bathroom once again. It looks like a concert hall port-o-let this time around. I wipe around the edges, use one of the seat barriers and hope for the best. I may need a Typhoid shot when I get to Chicago. The train is cranking along now. Still not many people on board. I am somewhat surprised, since it is a Monday, and I anticipated some commuters. When you have 14 cars, however, they are distributed all along. This section is the "stub train", and there are no sleeping quarters. A sleeper car (or "roomette") costs over $150, which seems a bit pricey. How much better sleep can you possibly get? Lots of bouncing around at this speed, but it's not so bad. I am fairly comfortable, considering I have been sitting on my ass since 2PM yesterday.

The Journey Begins

2009-03-03T17:34:00.000-08:00

Day One (Massachusetts)

2:30PM

On a Sunday in Western Massachusetts, not much is going on. A storm from the south is coming, and looks to dump a butt load of snow on our sleepy little area, but I am heading in the other direction of it.

I have three pieces of luggage - a banjo, a suitcase and a laptop case. I asked the guy at the Amtrak counter if I should check my banjo in the luggage car.

"I wouldn't recommend it" was all he said.

The train is 3/4 full when I get aboard, and I sit next to a young guy who was only going to Albany from Springfield. He asked where I was going, and I told him I was headed for Chicago.

"Wow", he responded. "That's a long way."

"That's just the beginning", I followed up.

After pulling out of the station 20 minutes late, we went on our way through Westfield and Pittsfield. Had a couple of stops for freight and for an opposite-heading Amtrak, but still made it to Albany on time. Now I sit in the car while they hook up the NYC portion of the train to make a giant 14 car Lake Shore Limited.

The Albany station looks brand new, and we had an option of staying on board, or hanging out in the station. If I chose to go inside the station I would have to stay there for over and hour, then walk up 11 cars to get back aboard. I decided it was early enough in my journey that I was all set with moving around. I decided to stay put, and wait for us to head out to Chicago. I will call my wife in the AM and tell her where I am at. She looked pretty sad when I left, and not just because she was going to face a blizzard all alone.

I have not yet seen the diner car, but after eating a Nutri-grain bar, and some canned chicken salad that looked a lot like cat food, I may have to see the bar car before long.

It's 6:00PM.

Note: One bathroom is out of order, and the other is a handicapped lavatory. It was still a tight fit, what with the extra room and support handrails. Not the scariest bathroom I have ever been in, but not exactly the Ritz either.

On My Way

2009-03-01T07:06:00.000-08:00

Everything is packed and ready to go.

After hanging out and listening to the music of the Swinging Steaks at the Basement in Northampton - my wife and I got back home at 11PM, and promptly fell asleep.

The Swinging Steaks played a song they dedicated to me. "Glad and Sorry" by The Faces. The lines go like this...

"Can you show me a dream? Can you show me one that's better than life? Can you stand it to the cold light of day? Neither can I"

True simple words.

The big dream started a little over a yea ago - when I was approached to give the lyrics to a song written over 5 years ago. In truth: I have dreamed about the prospect of going back West for a while. Now I get to spend 12 days traveling over half of the country.

The journey starts at 2:15PM today.

3 Days - Keeping Options Open in Montana.

2009-02-26T06:12:00.000-08:00

I canceled my hotel reservation for the night in Havre - I might still spend the night there, but I want to see what my options look like once I arrive.

Downtown looks like many downtown areas around here - imagine Brattleboro Vermont, for instance. Nice brick buildings line the streets, and are preserved to look appealing to the eye. Upon closer inspection, you might find that some of them are vacant.

I spot a sporting goods supply, a hunters shop, and more than a few sports bars. Northern Montana University is located in Havre, although the campus is on the other side of town, so I don't know what impact it will have on downtown. It is mostly a railroad and agricultural town. It is located in the 'badlands' area of Montana - north of the Missouri River, so it wont look like Vermont in that aspect, I am sure.

There are several motels and hotels in downtown Havre. All of them are cheap. As I stroll around and look for a decent place to get a steak (hey, it's Montana) I will try to ignore the casino options that seem to come with every dining choice. I don't know if I can deal with cigarette smoke, and video slots while I eat.

The hotels you can find are The El Toro Inn, Siesta Motel & The Park Hotel - all located within a few blocks of the train station. Off the path by a block or two is also the Hi Line Motel and the Rails Inn. Further up the road are the bigger hotels including the Best Western Great Northern. For twice as much money, you can get a sauna, hot tub and heated indoor pool, along with an on-site restaurant.

If I am so sore and tired from riding on a train for 2 days - I may just want to walk the blocks and fall into bed, after taking a hot shower.

We will see how that goes first.

The Laptop

2009-02-26T06:00:00.001-08:00

Got my first laptop late last year... but I only started using it recently, as I start to get ready for my trip out West in March.

I found a used iBook on the web, and it cost me $190.00

Back in 2001, it went for about $1,700

But times move fast, and technology wont slow down for the people with a limited income. For anybody clever enough to know how to upgrade systems on their own, you can get by using older toys and still perform the needed tasks.

I also got an Airport card, so that I can do WIFI (when available, in Central Montana). I can upload my digital pics (on iPhoto) and record, using Audacity.

I could use a little more memory, but when you are on a train for 2 days, I can wait!

2009-02-04T06:53:00.000-08:00

The Banjo

Haywire Mac

2009-01-19T14:30:00.000-08:00

No, I am not speaking of my laptop (although, there is still time for a Logic Board Meltdown, god forbid!)

But I am speaking of the Man who they nicknamed "Haywire Mac".

The "King of the Hobos"

Harry McClintock

He is the guy who popularized the song "Big Rock Candy Mountain".

Harry sang songs that were raw, and showed the gritty side of people who lived through the great depression of the late 1920s and 1930s.

It is the same song that author Wallace Stegner named his book after.

The title was/is a sarcastic metaphor, and in regards to his father's desire to find the last easy street, that Wallace decided to use in the story of the futile, yet hard-working efforts they put forth as a family to make things work in the one place he called "home".

It was more than they could handle, and the family fell apart.

But Harry's songs were something of a comfort to a child who would believe, at least for a summer of two, that it could be possible to have a normal, average life.

It is one of the reasons why I have chosen to bring a banjo to the Stegner house, record "Big Rock Candy Mountain", as well as my own songs based on the book of the same name.

And record on my Mac.

Recording The House

2009-01-05T12:10:00.000-08:00

I plan on bringing a few microphones with me to capture the sound of Stegner's House, when I record "Return To Big Rock Candy Mountain" in March.

I have a few Shure microphones, but they are best for onstage shows and cabinet miking.

Funny enough - when I was recording WAV files for an Autism EDU program, the first microphone I picked was a cheap Radio Shack vocal microphone. I used it for a few samples, and when they asked for several thousand more files, they said, "Don't change a thing". So it worked perfect to capture an even voice without much in the way of dynamics for 5 years! Simple, pure, and with no connections in between. Just my kind of tech requirements.

I was going to bring a studio condenser mic with me, but that would also mean I would have to bring my USB soundcard interface (with Phantom Power). Instead, I decided I really wanted to capture the sound of the room as well as the songs. The best way I know how to do that is with an Omnidirectional Microphone. Standing several feet away - I can sing and play and capture the natural echo of the house (probably the living room, where Stegner's mother used to play piano and sing back in 1917) with little or no overdubbing. Although I may record some of the vocals in the study.

Bringing the Banjo with me will also lend a nice touch to the timelessness and folk-nature of the music I have written for this project (14 songs), and I will probably write a few more songs where I am there. Probably sitting in his dad's old chair in the room that used to be Stegner's bedroom.

I have several days to complete the project, and I don't think it is going to take very long to do. An acoustic guitar is supposed to be brought to me while I am there, and I will have some harmonicas and percussion as well. I also plan on bringing the old-fashioned portable cassette recorder, to capture a few sounds on the road.

Searching For Bo Mason

2008-12-04T10:12:00.001-08:00

Following the footsteps of Wallace Stegner is leading me to some interesting places. I did some extra research of travel websites, as well as re-reading some of his books.

Wallace's father, George, was referred to only as "Bo Mason" in his books. I had to find out his real name through an article in the New York Times Book Review. George was a whiskey runner during prohibition, as well as a volunteer policeman, a farmer, and a mining investor (the latter job was the one that did him in for good.)

He spent many trips going around Havre and Chinook (usually on back roads at night, attempting to avoid the police, but sometimes to have a picnic with his family in the Bear Paw Mountains ) and I am willing to believe he stayed at least one night in this hotel.

All of the other (two of 'em) hotels are newer, and are located right on the Hi-Line, but this one is right in downtown, and could hold a few clues concerning his father's past.

It's worth investing a little more research since I may have to spend a night in Montana before I head to Saskatchewan.

Return Of The Haywire Mac

2008-12-04T10:10:00.001-08:00

I was browsing Craigslist, and found a tenor banjo for sale.

A little store in Easthampton had a couple of them, and I took the cheaper of the two.

It also has a pickup on it... so I was twice as interested.

Hello Saskatchewan!

2008-12-04T10:08:00.001-08:00

Hello, Saskatchewan?

I have to admit, I am not much of a reader.

Unless you show me a writer that really connects with me.

Then I will voraciously devour any and all works that he or she ever produced.

Such was the case in 1993, when I encountered an author named Wallace Stegner.

I had just gotten back from a vacation in the Rockies (Wyoming, Utah, Colorado and Idaho) and found an obituary for an old novelist, whom had won a Pulitzer decades ago and was on his way to a lecture, when he died in an automobile accident in New Mexico. He wrote a book called "The Big Rock Candy Mountain."

I was intrigued by the title, and I could almost picture that mountain he described.

So I read the book. A heart-breaking story about a boy living in Saskatchewan with his fragile mother and his strong willed, down trodden father (whom had built the house they actually lived in real life) during the depression.

It was the early 20th Century, and all of the sweet deals were already taken in the westward expansion. "Whitemud" Sakatchewan was a made-up town. The real town is called Eastend, and is close to the Montana/Alberta border in Southwestern Saskatchewan.

It's a bitter cold land in the winter, and the summers are often dry and scorching hot.

Back in the Pioneer Days: It was cheap land and there was a need for people who could work in such hard conditions.

It wasn't a very happy story, and it didn't end well. The boy grew up in a hurry, but certainly was prepared to face life as an adult, after all he was forced to go through as a child.

He had a poet's sense of place and landscape, and you can feel as if you are standing in his shoes, visualizing what he was writing about.

I grew up in the well-sheltered Connecticut suburbs, and could barely relate to such a harsh tale. But the author was so painfully vivid in his accounts of the land I had just been to (and been mesmerized by) that he pulled me into his life and his struggles.

The adult writer's accounts of a young boy's vision of those mountains struck a chord with me.

So I read the book, and most of his other books as well.

Fast Forward 15 years: I had written a song about one of his books ("All The Little Live Things") and my band Mambo Sons recorded and released it on our second CD. Through some creative promotion by our guitar player, the author's foundation found out and contacted me, wanting a copy of the lyrics. I sent them right away.

Today: They asked me if I was interested in applying for a writer's residency, for 2 weeks to a month, in Saskatchewan. Eastend, Saskatchewan.

In the former boyhood home of Wallace Stegner.

More to come?

Back To The Beginning

2008-12-04T10:06:00.001-08:00

Following The Muse (and how far it might lead you)

"What the heck are you thinking?"

Those are some of the many confused words I often hear from inside my head.

But lately, they are having more frequent occurrence.

Don't worry, aside from some mild anxiety over the O-Crush CD coming out (proofs for artwork art coming back next week) everything is cool is Lawsonville USA.

There is a tiny issue involving a town very far away, in Canada.

Turns out, I have been accepted as an artist resident at the Wallace Stegner House in Eastend, Saskatchewan.

Since 1990, only 80 people have gained residence at this early 20th century two story home overlooking the Cypress Hills, and the Canadian Badlands.

Wallace Stegner was a Pulitzer Prize winning fictional author, whose stories bore a striking resemblance to his real-life experiences earlier in life.

I co-wrote a song around 2000 with my guitarist and friend Tom Guerra, that had some content that related to a few of Wallace Stegners novels (Crossing To Safety, and All The Little Live Things) I mashed them together a little, and used the line "can I cross to safety now?" as the chorus.

The song "Little Live Thing" (it's title in reference to the strong willed women he so much admired throughout his life) got the attention of the Eastend Arts Council (where the author's boyhood home is located, and is maintained by the arts council, and a little help from the government.)

I was asked by the person at the cultural center if I could provide the lyrics to the song, and if I would be interested in applying for artists residency someday.

To be honest, I had looked at where the authors book "Big Rock Candy Mountain" was based. When I saw how far away it was from everything, I grew disheartened.

I knew I would have to have a mighty special reason to ever go there, but I never really sought it out, until it was suggested by them.

It just so happens, you can take a TRAIN (I strongly dislike flying) from Springfield, Massachusetts to a little town in Montana that is about only 2,3 hours driving distance from the Author's home.

It is my desire to write about the traveling experience, as well as write a number of songs and short stories.

There are going to be some interesting moments ahead for me in 2009.

You Can Havre!

2008-12-04T09:17:00.000-08:00

Most people have never heard of Havre, Montana.

That's Havre. Not Hannah.

Helena, Missoula, Billings, Butte. Yes!

Havre? Not so much.

Along the Hi-line (route 2) there is a whole lot of nothing.

It's flat, and not much to look at.

Locals would wisecrack, and argue, "there's plenty to look at. There's nothing in the way!"

Havre has a small college (Northern Montana State University) but it is a railroad outpost, and last civilized town before hitting the Canadian border. Things start to get a little hilly here and there once you make it to Havre.

I could have flown to Billings and then driven several hours, but that would have been a scary task, if the weather in March is nasty. I didn't feel like attempting traversing some of the mountain ranges that would get in the way -- however small in relation to the Rockies they may be. Whatever waits for me between Havre and Eastend will be a little more than 100 miles away.

A couple of near-ghost towns in between.

So I will need 2 full days to get to Havre (via Chicago) and I will get to spend the night somewhere in the Havre/Chinook area.

There is an area called The Bearpaws,

and there is also the Nez Perce Battlefield Monument.

I plan on visiting it in my travels.

Song Titles From "Return To Big Rock Candy Mountain"

2008-12-01T12:59:00.000-08:00

Songs From "Return To Big Candy Mountain"

The story of "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" by Wallace Stegner as thumbnail would follow as such -

Elsa takes the train from Minnesota. She meets a wildman named Bo Mason. They hook up. Two kids (and one half-hearted attempt to leave him) later, she allows herself to transport the whole family to the last unsettled edge of the Western Frontier, in Southwestern Saskatchewan.

It was there that "Bo Mason" built this house. It is the same house that I am traveling to in March of next year, where I will live for a week, record songs that pertain to the book on various acoustic instruments (including a banjo I plan on bringing along with my laptop recording studio) and document the entire trip.

This was the one place that young Wallace Stegner felt was a home to him, and he later wrote one of his most famous books (and all-time-famous documents of frontier living and the early American West) "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" in 1938. This house is one of the central parts of that book. He even returned to it (in his book "Wolf Willow") but he could not bear himself to ask the people who owned his former home if he could go inside for a look at his childhood past.

I'm going to do it for him

It is my personal project and mission to create a large body of work, present the following songs in a reasonably close order of occurrence, and provide people a glimpse of the characters in what is a landmark classic story about the last wild frontier, a family of four that lived through it, and how the weakest one came out stronger than anyone could have imagined.

Here are the song titles.

"Songs From The Big Rock Candy Mountain"

Westbound Running Train (Part One)
Room To Roam
Be My Lucky Day
She Puts Up With Me
Happy Home
Whitemud
Poison Land
I've Got The Fever
Bootleg Runner
Closer To The Fire
I Deserve Everything
So Wrong
Black Sheep Son
Westbound Running Train (Part Two)

More stories involving the songs on an individual basis.

Starting in January of 2009.

On The Road Less Travelled

2008-11-22T10:00:00.000-08:00

"How did all of this come about?"

My family does not understand. They assume I would want to go someplace warm in March.
And while I have spent parts of March in places like Florida or Virginia in the past - this is something vastly different that I seek.

Rather than sit on a beach in silent contemplation. I have decided to seek out bigger philosophic game for 2009.

My wife (bless her heart!) Understands and appreciates the journey I am embarking on for two weeks. Although I am taking a train to Montana (via Chicago) All I am going to have to do is take notes, transcribe, compose, record and read.

March 1st 2009.

When I get to Montana, I have a car rental secured, a laptop recording studio... and a banjo

(the banjo is another story).

The weather in Saskatchewan is another question people ask about.

Isn't it really snowy up there in March?

It's not, however. This part of the country is one of the driest in Canada, and is considered semi-arid (they have Cacti and sand dunes). Blizzards tend to occur from December through February, and although there certainly can be a blizzard in march or even April, the majority of the years have shown that there is hardly any precipitation, and the Chinook winds usually warm things up when it has been cold.

And the second assumption.

It must be cold up there!

Well... it ain't Florida, but then again, it's not Maine, either. Records have shown it gets cold at night, and wind chill factor can be scary, but the temps have often averaged around 40 degrees... much like around Massachusetts. But you never know which weather you will get... Arctic cold, or Chinook warm.

Next question.

What's up there?

Not too much in the immediate area. Nothing, really.

Everything is at least a half days drive away.

So there I will be in three months - sitting at a study that used to be the bedroom of the young author-to-be. Staring out the window at the mountain range he used to look at... and wonder. Eventually, I will start recording all of the songs I have written based on Stegner's novel "The Big Rock Candy Mountain". Much of what took place in the book actually happened in Wallace's life, and quite a bit took place in the house his father built.

Meanwhile, my own father has issued me the following cautionary advice...

"You better get something really good out of this"

I hope to, dad.

I certainly hope to.