 Society, and we're the sponsor of tonight's program. We usually have a program once again, and I'm thrilled to be able to bring our church back again this year. It was eight or nine years ago, I think, that we brought Crazy Chase here to Middlesex, and thrilled to have him come back. I will just say one short introduction about Crazy. He was born in 1887 in Middlesex, lived for a lot of his life here, and then moved to Morrisville, where he continued to entertain people. He was possibly well loved. He was very well known and extremely talented. So enjoy the show. We have Alan Church and Nick accompanying on guitar. So welcome. Thank you and welcome. Thanks for coming out on this cold night to hear the story of Crazy Chase. I guess I'll just thank Patty and the town. I guess they're sponsoring it. It's great that Patty thought of me and asked me back, and I'm thrilled to be here. So our story comes, like Patty said, from this beautiful cozy corner of the world that most of us here, I think, feel fortunate enough to call home. And in fact, it comes from pretty close by as the crow flies, literally just up the road a little ways. And then, as Patty mentioned, a little farther up the road later on in his life. It comes from a time when Vermont was bigger, smaller, and the same size it is today. It was bigger because it would take you all day to get from one end of the state to the other. If you were going north-south, it was a pretty long state, and the roads were not as good. The cars were not as fast, and it would take you all day. If you were going east-west, the mountains got in your way, so it would take you all day. It was smaller because nobody ever bothered to go from one end of the state to the other. There was no reason to. Folks stayed pretty close to home. They may go to a neighboring town to attend a dance or perhaps go to market, but other than that, life did not take them too far. And it was the same size because, as far as I know, the mountains and the rivers have not moved anywhere. It was a time of kitchen tunks and barn dances. It was a time when neighbors knew each other's names first and last, and often the first and last names of their parents as well. It was a time when a person's world was the village, and many of the villages around these parts were home to a character or two. And tonight I'm here to tell you about, of course, Alfred Crazy Chase. Born in middle sex, as Patty said, in 1887. It was a backwards birth. His mother, Sarah, did not survive out in Bear Swamp, and he died in Morrisville in 1960. But I didn't know any of this in the beginning. I was playing music at the Craftsbury Community Care Center some 14 years ago, and it was St. Patrick's Day. Hi, everyone. It's great to be here with you today. My name is Allen, and my car made it all the way from Morrisville, and believe me, that's great. But also it's great to be here to celebrate St. Patty's Day with you all. Now, how do I get started with a couple of jigs? My friend, Dick, he's going to accompany me. A one and two, and here we go. Well, maybe. One, two. So why should I? How do these parts? Please, all the kitchen tongues and barn dances. I should think you know them, seeing as how you play the fiddle. Maj. Maj. God, that must have been 60 years ago. I don't think I know them, but I would like to hear more about this crazy. But first, can anyone here describe for me what a kitchen tongue is? I've heard this term before, and I'm never really sure what it means. Sure. You gather the neighbors. The neighbors, they'd all gather in one of the biggest kitchens in the neighborhood. You had to push the table against the wall to make room for a square, and you had to have at least a filler. And ladies would bring cakes. No pies, thank you very much. She was no doubt recalling a time when the ingredients, the sugar and the flour in cake, made cake much more special than pie with its more ordinary and readily available ingredients. Well, thank you for that. So back to this crazy chase person that Maj mentioned. Does anybody else remember this crazy chase? Anything. You mean any instrument? That too, but no, I mean anything on the fiddle. And he only had to hear it one time. Well, it's what everybody always said. I'm surprised I was surprised. I was surprised. I never heard of this crazy chase person. I'd been sitting for years right in between Barb Motorbow McAllister and Fred King, King of the Double Stops. I've heard about many of the fiddlers from around the LaMoyle County area, Slim Baker, others, Tony Washburn, of course, who will come up later, Ron West, lots of fiddlers, but I never heard of crazy. I thought maybe I knew him by his real name. Does anybody here remember crazy's real name? No, that wasn't it. I know it was it was Joseph. No, it wasn't Joseph. He went by Josie sometimes, but it wasn't Joseph. I know that. Eugene. No, no, it wasn't Eugene. No, that was Eugene's brother. I can't believe I can't remember his name. Oh man. The woman who started it all said, well, we all just called him crazy. Well, it must have been my New England upbringing, which prevented me from asking the obvious question. But there was no way around it, it seemed so. I said, well, why did they why did they call him crazy? Well, seems like somebody knows something. Well, finally a person, the same guy said, up. Well, I guess it was cause you like to wear, like to dress up. Dress up? Yeah. What do you mean dress up? Wear dresses? Oh, wear dresses. Oh, well, at this point, I'm sure I stopped to let this information sink in and because I wasn't really there to be talking about crazy, I was supposed to be playing music for St. Patrick's Day. So I stopped and decided I will return and try to learn more. Now that very day, I knew I would be playing at the Copley Manor in Morrisville, a larger facility. So there are many more people in attendance. And instead of starting off with jigs, I started off with a reel. Wow, a lot to be here today. She said I should ask you if you remember crazy chase. So does anybody here remember crazy chase? Well, you could see a grin start to cross many of the faces there just like it had happened in the Craftsbury Community Care Center. People started a nod. Yeah. Well, apparently you do. What do you remember? He could play anything. Anything on that fiddle. I'm telling you anything on that fiddle. He could play it above his head. He could play it between his legs. He could play it behind his back. I don't know how he did it, but he could do it. Anything on that fiddle. Really? Anything. And you know what? He only had to hear it one time. Just one time. Well, I was amazed by what I was hearing, of course, but I was a little more prepared this time. I said, well, maybe I know this crazy by his real name. Well, what happened next was absolutely surreal. They had exactly the same conversation I heard earlier. I'm not making this up. It was exactly the same. Names are the same. Couldn't remember his real name. Ended with, we all just called him crazy. Okay. Well, can anybody tell me why you called him crazy? It's just happened again. Well, yeah, I guess because I suppose, I suppose because you like to wear women's clothes. Oh, you suppose, huh? How about shoes? Oh, yeah. Shoes? Sure. With big heels. You mean high heels? Oh, no, no, no, no. We think high heels. Big heels. Okay. Anything else? He wore a wig. Oh, it wasn't a wig. It was a hair net. Oh, actually, it was a wig and a hair net. I know that for a fact. We went to the same salon. Makeup? Oh, yeah. Sure. He'd powder up, put on his face, as he'd say. Wasn't always so neat with the lipstick, though. Well, starting to get the picture of this crazy chase person. Wasn't so neat with the lipstick. Oh, I'm sorry. Wasn't always so neat with the lipstick. Remember? So we have this picture of a person. Well, you can, you can picture crazy yourselves, I guess, with the pleats and the dress and the wig and the hair net and the big heeled shoes and everything else going on. Oh, it's not there yet. I know it's not there and I'm just so freaking lost. I have to do something here. Just excuse me one for a second there. Yeah, I know. Did he have a purse? Yes, he did have a purse, in fact. Of course. Well, I say why do they call him crazy? Yeah, I suppose because he wore a woman's clothes. That's why. Makeup? Wig discussion? Wouldn't you know? I don't have that page after that, man. Anyone else want to go? Yeah, okay. I had this picture in my mind of a crazy chase. Fiddler plays all the kitchen tongues and barn dances, happens to wear wigs, and big heeled shoes. I went home and, of course, I was thinking about everything that I'd heard. Mostly I was thinking about the dresses, of course. But just as curious to me was the idea that this guy could actually hear something just one time and then play it. Now that's the kind of thing they said about Mozart. You know, he would supposedly go here and orchestra play, and then he could go home and write out the whole symphony. And this was when he was very young. I had any wondered how I'd ever be able to verify that. And then I heard these two stories. The first one comes from Tony Wasperd. And Tony said, yes, he remembered crazy chase. He said, crazy, he could sit in your car, and he would listen to the hum of the tires on the road. Be flat. You're going 33 miles an hour. And I think you need an oil change. Yeah, Tony said you could try and fool him. You could speed it up. You could slow it down, and he would be within a mile per hour all the time just from listening to the hum of the tires. Leonard, Gloria Green, Leonard told me that her father, Leonard Gary, worked at the jewelry store in Morrisville back in the day. And that's where she explained they sold records for your Victrola. But before you bought a record, before you got the record, they would let you listen to it once and make sure it was the one you wanted. Dad said that crazy would come in all the time and listen to a record, and then he'd leave. So one time, Dad called out to him and said, crazy, don't you want there? You come in here all the time, you listen to the record, and then you leave, don't you want the record? And crazy said, I got it. Well, these stories, those two stories and other ones that I heard certainly seem to suggest that crazy was more than merely talented. And perhaps a savant of some sort, being able to hear a tune just once is not an easy thing to do. We fiddlers call it lifting a tune, and I like that expression because it implies some kind of effort that you have to work at it. You have to hear the tune over and over again so the melody gets stuck in your head, and then you have to work it through phrase by phrase over and over again so that the melody gets stuck in your fingers. And it's fun, but it's not that easy. But for crazy, yeah, piece of cake or pie. Anyway, so this incredible ear served him not only as a fiddler, but in his capacity as a piano tuner. And it was in the piano parlors of the day where crazy maid ends meet. I heard of him tuning pianos from Montgomery Center down to Montpelier, and from at least Wolcott over to Waterbury. Anime Daily says in the middle sex history, thank you Patty, says in the middle sex history, crazy used to wear women's clothes and he would come by and tune the piano. It would take him all day, mother would have to feed him dinner and supper. It's not really surprising that it took him all day to tune the piano because he didn't use so much as a tuning fork or a pitch pipe. The only thing he would show up with was a tuning wrench. And I think he might have had ulterior motives that always included tobacco or some libation. Anything to kind of like prolong the piano tuning process was how you got a feeling. And sometimes a lot more. I don't know if you got all that, but that was Everett de Merritt, and he starts off saying, crazy came up to tune our piano, up to Craftsbury, came for a day, stayed for a week. Ma couldn't get rid of him. I just love that. Ma couldn't get rid of him. By 90 plus year old neighbor Earl Nichols, late Earl Nichols told me that crazy played all the dances and he loved to dance. He just loved to dance. And we all did, he said, and we probably drank too much. Bill Schubert, oh no, Stun Russell of Wilkut said, well, not everybody danced. Some people just showed up just to watch him play. He was a show and himself. I love that. Bill Schubert writes, the piano began to play chords as, oh, wait a minute. Oh, yeah. Well, it skipped a little bit there. I think it goes without saying that we moved on from the piano parlor to the dance hall, where crazy reigned both as king and queen. Anyway, the piano began to play chords and champ began to set a rhythm with his bass drum and snare. Across the dance floor, crazy chase, still an object of intense curiosity to me, but no longer fear, mounted the platform with a violin case and his purse. He set down the purse, opened the beat up black case and took out a fiddle, which he tuned in about four strokes of his bow hair, his horse hair bow and launched into a town favorite, Lava Stranga. The piano followed suit with pounding chords and champ saw rather than set the rhythm taken by crazy chase. The dance floor filled within a minute and the dance was underway. I started wondering all the time, how many dances did this person play? How many people showed up to dance? How many stood on the sidelines just smiling and tapping a foot? Here we go. One, two, three, yeah. All the sway and sway to get at the stop, we always walk. Well, as once curiosity had become almost obsession, I started asking pretty much anybody and everybody I thought I might remember crazy. Pretty soon, I had a long list of names to call. One of the first places I started was the Northeast Fiddlers Association Meet. Northeast Fiddlers Association is an association of fiddlers and people who love fiddle music and they get together at VFW halls and Knights of Columbus halls throughout Washington and Lemoyle County. The first Sunday of the month, there's starts at 12 o'clock usually ends around five. There's often around 20 fiddlers there. Each fiddler tries their hand at a hoedown, a waltz and a tune of choice. The average age of the audience is probably around 75 and they do the two step and waltz all afternoon long. It's definitely a throwback to the soirees and kitchen tongues and barn dances that we've been talking about. You can get macaroni and cheese for 50 cents. Well, not anymore, but it used to be. Cheap coffee, cheap hamburgers, usually some kind of sweets, you know the deal. Or if you're inclined towards something stronger, go to the VFW bar and get something there. I went up to the sign in table and I asked them there if there was anybody I might talk to who would remember Crazy Chase and they said, yeah, go talk to Ray Bourdoux. He's right over there. Mr. Bourdoux, my name is Alan Church and they told me at the sign in table that I should come talk to you. I'm trying to find out everything I can about Crazy Chase. Crazy, yeah. I haven't thought of him in years. I'll tell you what though, he could play anything. That's what I hear with quite a sartorial flair. Anything, anything on that fiddle. I'm telling you anything on that fiddle, he could play it. He could play it above his head. He could play it between his legs. He could play it behind his back. I don't know how he did it, but he could do it. Anything on that fiddle. Really? Anything. And you know what? He only had to hear it one time. Just one time. Well, I was amazed by what I was hearing, of course, but I was a little more prepared this time. I said, well, maybe I know this crazy by Israel name. Well, what happened next was absolutely surreal. They had exactly the same conversation I heard earlier. This is not, I'm not making this up. It was exactly the same. Names are the same. Couldn't remember his real name. Ended with, we all just called him crazy. Okay, well, can anybody tell me why you called him crazy? It's just happened again. Well, yeah. I guess because suppose, suppose because he liked to wear women's clothes. Oh, you suppose? How about shoes? Oh, yeah. Shoes. Sure. With big heels. You mean high heels? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, we think high heels, big heels. Okay. Anything else? He wore a wig. Oh, it wasn't a wig. It was a hair net. Oh, actually, it was a wig and a hair net. I know that for a fact, we went to the same salon. How about makeup? Oh, yeah, sure. He'd powder up, put on his face as he'd say. Wasn't always so neat with the lipstick, though. Well, starting to get the picture of this crazy chase person. Wasn't so neat with the lipstick. Oh, I'm sorry. Wasn't always so neat with the lipstick. Remember, so we have this picture of a person. Well, you can, you can picture crazy yourselves, I guess, with the pleats and the dress and the wig and the hair net and the big heeled shoes and everything else going on. No, it's not there yet. I know it's not there. And I'm just so freaking lost. I have to, I have to do something here. Just excuse me one for a second there. Yeah, I know. Did he have a purse? Yes, he did have a purse, in fact. Of course. Well, I say, why do they call him crazy? Yeah, I suppose because he wore women's clothes. That's why. Makeup, wig discussion. Wouldn't you know? I don't have that page after that, man. Anyone else want to go? Okay. I think that's where I am. Sorry. All right, well, anyway, I left that day. I had this picture in my mind of a crazy chase, fiddler, plays all the kitchen tongues and barn dances, happens to wear wigs and big heeled shoes. I went home and of course I was thinking about everything that I'd heard. Mostly I was thinking about the dresses, of course, but just as curious to me was the idea that this guy could actually hear something just one time and then play it. Now, that's the kind of thing they said about Mozart. You know, he would supposedly go here and orchestra play and then he could go home and write out the whole symphony and this was when he was very young. I wondered how I'd ever be able to verify that and then I heard these two stories. The first one comes from Tony Wasper. Tony said, yes, he remembered crazy chase. He said, crazy, he could sit in your car and he would listen to the hum of the tires on the road. Be flat. You're going 33 miles an hour and I think you need an oil change. Tony said you could try and fool him, you could speed it up, you could slow it down and he would be within a mile per hour all the time just from listening to the hum of the tires. Leonard, I see it was Gloria Green. Leonard told me that her father, Leonard Gary, worked at the jewelry store in Morrisville back in the day and that's where she explained they sold records for your Victrola. But before you bought a record, before you got the record, they would let you listen to it once and make sure it was the one you wanted. Dad said that crazy would come in all the time and listen to a record and then he'd leave. So one time, Dad called out to him and said, crazy, you come in here all the time, you listen to the record and then you leave, don't you want the record? And crazy said, I got it. Well, these stories, those two stories and other ones that I heard certainly seem to suggest that crazy was more than merely talented. And perhaps a savant of some sort, being able to hear a tune just once is not an easy thing to do. We fiddlers call it lifting a tune. And I like that expression because it implies some kind of effort that you have to work at it. You have to hear the tune over and over again so the melody gets stuck in your head and then you have to work it through phrase by phrase over and over again so that the melody gets stuck in your fingers and it's fun, but it's not that easy. But for crazy, yeah, piece of cake or pie. Anyway, so this incredible ear served him not only as a fiddler but in his capacity as a piano tuner. And it was in the piano parlors of the day where crazy made ends meet. I heard of him tuning pianos from Montgomery Center down to Montpelier and from at least Wolcott over to Waterbury. Anime Daily says in the middle sex history, thank you Patty, says in the middle sex history, crazy used to wear women's clothes and he would come by and tune the piano. It would take him all day. Mother would have to feed him dinner and supper. It's not really surprising that it took him all day to tune the piano because he didn't use so much as a tuning fork or a pitch pipe. The only thing he would show up with was a tuning wrench. And I think he might have had ulterior motives that always included tobacco or some libation. Anything to kind of like prolong the piano tuning process was how you got a feeling and sometimes a lot more. I don't know if you got all that but that was ever demerit and he starts off saying, crazy came up to tune our piano up to Craftsbury, came for a day, stayed for a week. Ma couldn't get rid of him. I just love that. Ma couldn't get rid of him. Anyway, so my 90 plus year old neighbor Earl Nichols, late Earl Nichols told me that crazy played all the dances and he would love to dance. He just loved to dance. And we all did, he said, and we probably drank too much. Bill Shubart, oh no, Stun Russell of Wilkett said, well not everybody dance. Some people just showed up just to watch him play. He was a show and himself. I love that. Bill Shubart writes, the piano began to play chords as, oh wait a minute, oh yeah, well it skipped a little bit there. I think it goes without saying that we moved on from the piano parlor to the dance hall. We're crazy rain both as king and queen. Anyway, the piano began to play chords and champ began to set a rhythm with his bass drum and snare. Across the dance floor, crazy chase, still an object of intense curiosity to me, but no longer fear, mounted the platform with a violin case and his purse. He set down the purse, opened the beat up black case and took out a fiddle, which he tuned in about four strokes of his horse-hair bow and launched into a town favorite, La Bestranga. The piano followed suit with pounding chords and champ saw, rather than set, the rhythm taken by crazy chase. The dance floor filled within a minute and the dance was underway. I started wondering all the time, how many dances did this person play? How many people showed up to dance? How many stood on the sidelines just smiling and tapping a foot? Here we go. One, two, three, and do the settings. Once curiosity had become almost obsession, I started asking pretty much anybody and everybody I thought I might remember crazy. Pretty soon I had a long list of names to call. One of the first places I started was the Northeast Fiddlers Association Meet. Northeast Fiddlers Association is an association of fiddlers and people who love fiddle music and they get together at VFW halls and Knights of Columbus halls throughout Washington and LaMoyle County. The first Sunday of the month starts at 12 o'clock, usually ends around five. There's often around 20 fiddlers there. Each fiddler tries their hand at a hoe down, a waltz and a tune of choice. The average age of the audience is probably around 75 and they do the two-step and waltz all afternoon long. It's definitely a throwback to the soirees and kitchen tongues and barn dances that we've been talking about. You can get macaroni and cheese for 50 cents, well not anymore, but it used to be. Cheap coffee, cheap hamburgers, usually some kind of sweets, you know the deal. Or if you're inclined towards something stronger go to the VFW bar and get something there. I went under the sign in table and I asked them there if there was anybody I might talk to who would remember Crazy Chase and they said, yeah go talk to Ray Bourdoux, he's right over there. Mr. Bourdoux, my name is Alan Church and they told me at the sign in table that I should come talk to you. I'm trying to find out everything I can about Crazy Chase. I haven't thought of him in years. I tell you what though, he could play anything. That's what I hear with quite a sartorial flair. But what? I understand he had an unusual way of dressing. Oh yeah, you mean the woman's clothes. I guess you could say that was unusual. You know, Mr. Bourdoux, this just occurred to me just now and I hadn't really thought about it until now. Was it stick? Was it just something that Crazy did when he was playing for dances and outperforming? You mean the dress? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Did he just wear dresses when he was performing? No, no, sometimes he'd wear a suit but you had to pay him more. Really? Yeah, I guess some folks object to a man, you know, wearing a dress and playing at their wedding or their funeral. Anyway, Crazy didn't think there was any real reason for them to object so he charged him more money. I know that for a fact. So he was really a transvestite. A what? You know, a cross dresser. I wouldn't know about that. Well, you said he wore women's clothes all the time, right? Yeah, unless you were paying him not to. More evidence. More evidence of what hung in Crazy's closet comes from Ethel Ryan. Some of you may remember Ethel and if you were lucky enough to be here at one of the earlier performances, she disputed this but it was already written in the middle sex history. Ethel Ryan says Crazy Chase had a camp upon Mary Price's, let's have a ring of bell, Mary, Mary Price's land by the grain company and which years later was taken by the state for the construction of the interstate. But we used to go up there, pick flowers and his wash would be out hanging all women's things. All women's things. When I asked Dick Adams of Hyde Park what he remembered about Crazy's dressing, he said, oh, he wore floral patterns and chiffon for special occasions. Yes, he was always, let's say, well, of course, like most people later on in life, he let himself go a little bit and didn't worry about it. But I remember when his lipstick was neat and his makeup was always put on neat. He was a kind man and a lot smarter than people thought. Always had a twinkle in his eye and a kind word for him. So it wasn't just stick. It wasn't irregular. Well, maybe it was a little irregular, but it wasn't infrequent. Wigs, dresses, accessories, daily made Crazy's life what it was. A life of expression and celebration, a little bit of drinking, a little bit of visiting, smoking and joking, dressing and keeping you guessing. And that's what it was. So we're going to finish out here with just a little more reading from Bill Schubart's book, The LeMoyle Stories. And I hope you can all come back. I will tell you that the second act moves a little faster and has a better character in it. Where is it here? There we go. Crazy Chase became a conductor. His bow, a baton that brought the town to its feet. His fiddle kept them all moving with reels, jigs, hornpipes, two steps and waltzes. When he stopped, they stopped and looked anxiously around for him to start up again. His pillbox hat, faded cotton dress and heavy rolled up stockings no longer seemed out of place, but curiously his own. So thanks be about a 10 minute break. Crazy Chase. Well, stop my real name. I can't remember my real name. I've been dead for like 60 years. And sadly, my memory is not what it once was. From little by little, stuff has been coming back. See, they got to asking folks about me, asking all around. They got folks to talking. The more they talked, the more they remembered. The more those three kept asking folks, remembering and talking and asking and remembering and talking. It's beyond passing strange, but it's brought me back somehow. I kind of like it. Mostly because people are saying the kindest things about me. And also because I get to do this again. I guess it's the truth. As those folks remembered it, and I think it's pretty close. What you're about to hear, not so sure, either because I don't mind embellishing a story if it serves my purposes, or because, frankly, I just can't remember. I'm making it up. Sometimes I do remember. Anyway, it'll be better in the telling, true or not, you know how that is. But what Ray said, remember Ray, back at the Fiddler's Meet there? What he said was true. Now, that was true. I did indeed charge them more money if they asked me to dress up in a suit and a tie. Other men, they can put on those pants and those starch shirts and nooses, as I call them, but not me. No, thank you very much. Some folks disapprove, I can see it in their piece of meat. Ask me to put on some pants, then I will say and when and why we should. Some folks think they get to say how I should dress, and they will. I always let them have their day and gets to see it if we hide. If they knew I was charging them more, who is on a need to know basis? Now, they're from out of town and they were just in, you know, to marry someone or heaven forbid, bury someone. Well, they didn't really need to know. I figured they didn't want a man dressed up as a woman playing at either of those occasions, like sometimes. So I wouldn't tell them, I'd just let them charge them more and let it be done at that. But with local folks, I'd let them know right off, just to keep everything above board, you know, just so we wouldn't get around that somebody was paying more than other people and they would know exactly why and why. And this all worked pretty well, except for one patron, and she was very well endowed, and she was a little bit more particular. And it seemed to me that I needed to find a way to save, you know, my dignity and also stay in her good graces. So charging more seemed like a reasonable compromise, very American compromise. And to her credit, it's one she accepted almost all the time, except for this one occasion. It was the 4th of July. The 4th of July in Morrisville, I believe, had asked me if I would be willing to conduct the band on that day as the usual conductor would be a way down to bury with family. Well, I thought that sounded like it would be quite a lot of fun. Who would give me a chance to wear my newest acquired blue chiffon dress, had lovely white piping around the neck, and a very discreet red belt. Very, very nice, perfect for the occasion. I asked them, like I always ask, do you care what I wear? And they said, hell no. Well, George, the trumpet player, he said, hell no, I'll even zip you up. Okay, I thought that would be all right. Well, it'd been working on a couple of tunes that seemed to be perfect for the occasion. First one was the green fields of America, and the next was Judy's Reel, a favorite at the town dances. One, two, three. Wait a minute, sorry. I think I would remember how to do that after all these years. One, two, three. Particular patron, patron anyway, heard that I was going to be conducting the band. Well, she made it her business to see that I dressed as she saw fit. The thing is, doesn't fit me, and I thought, well, if the shoe doesn't fit, why should I force it on? And they asked me, well, crazy, why don't you just charge more like you usually do? I didn't think that felt right. It kind of felt like it would be a portrayal to myself. On the 4th of July, on the day we're supposed to celebrate our freedoms, that I would accept money to dress some other way than I felt proper in. No, I decided now, you guys go on without me. I'll be okay. I'd rather be in the audience, dress the way I want to, than be up on the conductor's podium there and wearing whatever. Well, George, that didn't sit too well with George. George figured we already made an agreement. And plus, George is what I consider a real Vermonner. He looks after those who are marginalized, and those are a little less well off, and he just kind of sticks up for people, and he lives and lets live. He doesn't go around preaching and telling everybody what they should do and what they shouldn't do. He went back to the select board, and he said to them, you know, we already had an agreement, it wasn't crazy. Well, apparently, they said, you know, Mrs. Sedgwick, that's what it was, Lady Sedgwick. Lady Sedgwick. Well, they said, you know Lady Sedgwick, George, she doesn't she doesn't think too much of crazy wearing a dress and conducting the band on the 4th of July. Well, George said, I don't care what Lady Sedgwick thinks. Well, we got to take that into consideration, George, she said. You know, she might be responsible for the next new wing on the library. Well, George would have none of it. He was like, I don't care about the wing on the library. If the Lady Sedgwick's of this world get their way all the time, it would be a boring place to live in, don't you think? I always love that about George. Anyway, so some member of the select board said, George, we're not asking that much. We're just asking crazy to dress like everybody else. Is that right? Just like everybody else. Okay. Well, and George walked out. He had a plan, which I'll tell you about in a minute. As for my part and asking me, why don't you just do what you usually do, charge more money and let it go and wear what you need to wear. And as I said, I couldn't really do that this time, feeling like it would be a betrayal. See, I had stopped thinking about it long ago. In fact, so long that I don't even really remember when it was an issue. I just did what felt like me, what felt good, what felt natural, feeling nylon against my legs, silk against my skin, brushing my wigs, putting on makeup, tasting the cigars, the pipe tobacco, the bourbon. But most of all, here in the stomping on the floor and watching folks dance. Look up surprise and even a smile and even a smile crosses their face in the future ever changed the past. People think that dress I'm saying would stop smoking cigars, but I says who I am just a little and even more than anything, I was a fiddler. First, I learned all the tunes that my Pa knew and I learned all the tunes that Uncle Albert knew and pretty much I learned every tune I ever heard. Got quite good at it, played them all and loved many. And it was because of this right here with this, I could get people out of their chairs into a circle or two straight lines. I could get them to move in one direction all at the same time and change directions all at the same time. I could get them to join hands and I could get them to cross over. They didn't even know what was happening. I always loved it. And it was because of this right here. Probably some of you already can see that picture in your mind. Yes, they didn't really stipulate who should be dressed like whom. And so George thought, having heard that, oh, we just wanted to dress like everybody else, well, he just thought, hmm, how about if everybody else they're talking about is on the band, right there. What do you call that thing? The, you know, the what? Bandstand. Thank you. The papers grow. You look like an older audience to me like you should know these things. They end up at PA and that's crazy right there and Dick Shackett. Sorry, Dick Adams here. That's Dick Adams and Mrs. Shackett. Mrs. Shackett supposedly wouldn't play with me if I wore a dress. Somebody told me that, her son told me that. I wouldn't let him out of the house and address. I don't know. I show up, of course, at the 4th of July celebration and on the bandstand is the whole band and they look like crazy. Now they don't have quite my sartorial flair, nor my figure. But I'll tell you it was the prettiest sight I ever saw in my whole entire life. Seeing them up there in that bandstand, some of them with makeup on, some of them even wearing pumps. I mean, man, that is something else all for me. It was wonderful. It was the best day of my life. Thank you all for coming. It was a treat to be here tonight. I'm sorry about the lapse of the memory thing that happened earlier on. I don't know what the hell was that all about. You know, could not figure it out to save my life. But we got back on track and I hope you all hung in there. It seems like you did. And those of you who went home, I hope you're sleeping well. All right, so. One, two, three, four. Life's a mess. Can't find the ladder of success. That's all right. I'm afraid of heights anyway. Just do your best to do what you can. That's all you can do to break up the dark. Just takes a little light shining through. Let's decide the human race. Though some folks think it's just a case of disorder and bigger and fast. Each in it will have a song to play. God's something to say. You just do your best to do what you can. That's all you can do. Just takes a little light shining. That's all you can do. The middle sex will always be okay with me.