Jimmy Martin, the King of Bluegrass, died Saturday. His obituary touches on some of his many accomplishments. My favorite performance of his is his duet with Bill Monroe on Monroe's "Memories of Mother and Dad," perhaps the textbook track that illustrates what we mean when we talk about the "high lonesome" sound of a certain type of bluegrass music.
Below is a piece I wrote in 2003 for the Dayton City Paper on a documentary about King Jimmy:
George Goehl dialed the number and asked to speak with Jimmy Martin’s fan club president and longtime girlfriend Mary Ann Garrison in November of 1999 to ask her if she thought Martin would let Goehl film a documentary about the “king of bluegrass.” Instead of Garrison, King Jimmy himself picked up the phone and grunted: “She ain’t here. Who the hell is this?” Surprised but undaunted, Goehl pitched the film idea to Martin.
“He said it would have to wait until after coon-hunting season in January,” said Goehl, 34, who was working as a community organizer in Chicago at the time, “but he said he would talk to me if I came down to see him.”
Goehl promptly quit his job and began preparing for an odyssey that would last more than three years, cost Goehl more than $70,000 of his own money and result in the film “King of Bluegrass: the Life & Times of Jimmy Martin.” “King of Bluegrass” has played at a handful of film festivals and art houses across the country in 2003 and went on sale on VHS and DVD formats at www.kingofbluegrass.com in October. The film will be distributed to nationwide retail outlets in January 2004 by Chicago-based Thrill Jockey Records.
But soon after Martin agreed to talk to Goehl, the first-time filmmaker wondered whether the project was actually going to get off the ground. “For a couple of months after I started getting ready, Jimmy wasn’t returning my calls,” Goehl said. “Finally, I got him on the phone and it seemed like he had forgotten all about it.” After Goehl refreshed his memory, Martin invited Goehl to meet him near his home in Hermitage, Tenn. in March of 2000.
“I just thought, ‘well, if he’s ready now, I gotta go now,’ Goehl said. “I didn’t have a crew or all the right gear or anything, but I went down and we met at a Waffle House. I [had been] a vegetarian for 10 years, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He was kinda checkin’ me out and was a little standoffish. So the lady came and took our order and he ordered whatever he ordered and I said, ‘I’ll take two eggs scrambled, hash browns and toast.’ And she was like, ‘no meat?’ Nobody would ever ask me that in Chicago. And [Martin] kinda leans in as if to say, ‘what’s that all about?’ I felt like the whole restaurant was looking at me, so I said, ‘I’ll take two slices of bacon, I thought that came with it.’ Then Jimmy kinda leaned back and I thought, ‘well hey, here we go.”
Despite having no prior film experience, Goehl had been toying with the idea of making a film about the gentrification of Chicago’s West Side when he saw Martin for the first time at a bluegrass festival in Bean Blossom, Ind. in 1999. Inspired by the legendary singer’s flamboyant stage persona, which often takes the form of rambling anecdotes and slightly off-color humor, Goehl resolved that night to make a film about Martin instead.
For 18 months after the Waffle House sit-down, Goehl filmed Martin on stage, on the road, on squirrel- and raccoon-hunting trips and at home. Whether meeting and greeting fans, feeding home-grown pumpkins to his pet goat or striking a deal for a new coon dog, the Martin of “King of Bluegrass” comes across as a gregarious good ol’ boy, likable but strong-willed.
Born 76 years ago in Sneedville, Tenn., Martin listened to and aspired to play on the Grand Ole Opry radio program since the age of five. At 22, he successfully auditioned for bluegrass music founder Bill Monroe’s Blue Grass Boys and spent five years as Monroe’s lead singer and rhythm guitarist. Many critics say the Monroe-Martin combo perfected the “high lonesome” duet harmony sound that helps distinguish bluegrass from other forms of country music. Fronting his own band in 1954, Martin’s expressive vocals and tenacious guitar picking earned him the moniker “King of Bluegrass.” Martin prospered through the late 1950s and early 1960s – lean years for most other bluegrass performers – but never attained his life’s ambition to become a cast member of the Opry. Though he is a member of the International Bluegrass Music Hall of Honor, being snubbed by the prestigious, long-running Opry still haunts Martin. At one point in the film, Martin is reduced to tears as he talks about it.
Goehl was not able to get any comment from Opry management on why Martin was never invited to join, but he said he thinks the Opry had “too little to gain and too much to lose” by associating with Martin, who often struggled with alcoholism and always did things his own way.
Fred Bartenstein, host of the Internet bluegrass radio show “Banks of the Ohio” on BluegrassCountry.org, said Martin’s career probably did not suffer without Opry membership. “At the very time when it was hardest to be a bluegrass star, Jimmy Martin managed to be just that, and maybe it was because he’s the perfect example of being ‘too country for country.’” Bartenstein praised “King of Bluegrass” for painting a balanced picture of Martin the eccentric and Martin the artist.
Lynwood Lunsford, who played banjo for Martin in 1990 and 1991 and now leads his own band, the Misty Valley Boys, said the film is “pure Jimmy.” “Whoever said Jimmy was a musical genius is exactly right,” Lunsford said. “There’s nobody that I know of in the business who hears everything and knows how to put the music together like Jimmy Martin does.”
Though he was first attracted to Martin’s showmanship, Goehl said Martin’s depth of musical talent became more evident during filming. “[Martin has] an intense understanding of tiny nuances and subtleties in the music that I had no clue even existed,” Goehl said. That intense understanding comes to light during one of the most revealing – and uncomfortable - scenes of the film as Martin impatiently runs a young auditioning fiddler through take after take of “Fire on the Mountain.” The fiddler never gets it quite the way Martin wants it, and Martin finally walks away unsatisfied. But former band members, such as banjoist Bill Emerson, point out in the film that it is this perfectionism that sets Martin apart from the pack.
Away on a hunting trip, Martin could not be reached for comment, but Garrison said “King of Bluegrass” is “wonderful,” because it highlights Martin’s exemplary qualities without “sugar-coating” the less flattering ones. “I thought it was the real story on Jimmy,” said Garrison.
Though he is still heavily in debt from the film’s production, Goehl said he’s happy with the film and said the experience was one of the most meaningful in his life. Last month, he moved to Bloomington, Ind. and continues to promote “King of Bluegrass” while mulling over his next film project.
