I’ve been debating how to start the Carter Fold entry.  (Which is why it’s taken me a bit to get this up.)

See, the Carter Family, for those who may or may not know, is as close to Bluegrass Royalty as they come.  If there was some kind of heritage music fiefdom, AP Carter would be a well-loved king, and he and Sara and Maybelle would have roots that extend much further than just their respective lifetimes.  If you’ve listened to any of the music of Appalachia at all, you’ve listened to the Carter Family, either directly or by influence.

So I figured I’d split this entry into two and explain for you just exactly *why* the Carter Fold was such a huge event for me, and why, if I did nothing else, I was determined to hit the Carter Fold.

And that requires me to explain just a little bit about the life and times of A.P. Carter.

*  *  *

Someday, Sary, my name’s gonna mean something.
-A. P. Carter, pre-Carter Family days

Alvin Pleasant Delaney Carter (known as A. P. for short) was born in a remote area of Virginia that was then-called Poor Valley, in the low valleys of the Clinch Mountain range.  His early story was relatively typical for a resident of the area.  In 1915, he married Sara Dougherty, and they had three children — Janette, Gladys, and Joe.

It’s all very pedestrian, the facts up until then.  Working man, young mother, three children in an area full of music and hardworking folk.  The difference was that A. P. Carter had no intention of keeping the music to himself, and in 1927, he, Sara, and Sara’s cousin Maybelle formed the Carter Family.

The Carter Family, with A.P.’s gruff harmonies and Maybelle’s unique guitar style, catapulted the three into a kind of spotlight.  They were widely heard on XERA, a legendary radio station that had to move its immense towers south of the border into Mexico because the signal was so strong that it would often blot out the local markets — and still did, sometimes as far away as Atlanta or Chicago.  The Carters had an hourly show on XERA, singing and playing a style of regional folk/country music that appealed to the people of the time.  It was hardworking, godfearing, and felt to many as if the Carter Family was just that — family.

The Carters were notoriously private during the Carter Family era.  (Probably smart, given the near-insatiable urge this culture seems to have with celebrity.)  Despite being well-known and well-heard, they were very closed-mouthed about their personal lives.  Which is probably why, in 1943, when the band split up, fans could scarcely believe that Sara had left A.P. for another man — A.P.’s cousin, no less — almost ten years before.  (The book, Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone, goes into a bit of detail about the private lives of the Carters during that time, and if you’re interested in the family at all, I’d highly recommend it as a great read.  It handles this part of Carter’s life with a great deal of respect, which I appreciate.)

All scandal aside, if there’s one thing that sets A. P. apart from his contemporaries, it’s that he was, at the seeming heart, an ethnomusicographer, before there even was such a thing.  He travelled around Poor Valley and other remote bits of the area (and the country, really), collecting local traditional music and lyrics.  It was, ostensibly, to rearrange and record it all for the Carter Family.

Some have criticized Carter for this part of his career.  They say that it’s unethical to claim these songs as his own, when generations of folks have sung variations of the same song.  I don’t buy it, though — it takes a special kind of person to realize that your traditions are valuable, and A. P. Carter recognized that, and in the recording of these songs (including Keep on the Sunny Side of Life, one of the band’s signature tunes), they’re now preserved forever.

While I was in Hiltons, VA, at the Carter Family Fold’s tour of A.P.’s birthplace, a man in the tour mentioned a story he’d heard about this collection of folklife:

Apparently, A.P. took with him a gentleman who was an amazing by-ear guitar player on his later song-finding trips.  (Either he didn’t mention the name of the player, or I’ve forgotten to write it down.)  His only instruction to this man was to “remember the music”, because A.P. “could get the words”.  With this teamwork, A.P. saved dozens — possibly hundreds — of songs from disappearing as the music culture evolved over the last century.

Moreover, it’s impossible to stress The Carter Family’s importance without mentioning their legacy:

I know, right?

Both individual family units that were involved with the band had downlines that continued musical history.  If anyone ever questions that music is sometimes just in someone’s blood, I’ll point them to this family tree.

Mother Maybelle, as she was called later in her career, toured with her three daughters for a while under the Carter Family name, but A.P. had left the band by then, taking over a general store back home.  The new Family gained a bit of fame from touring and the newfangled television  (kidding, kidding…), and later, June Carter went on to marry Johnny Cash, bringing in even more musical blood to the line.  A.P. rejoined the group for a few years in the fifties, with Sara and the children, but it was done again by 1958 or so.

Janette Carter, in an effort to preserve and honor the family from which she came, established the Carter Fold in Hiltons, VA, where it exists to this day.  It’s a beautiful venue these days, and I’ll talk more about it in the coming days when I (finally) write up the story of my visit.  After Janette’s death, her daughter Rita (Forrester) took over the operations of it, keeping in the spirit of her mother’s vision.  Every Saturday night, rain or shine, there’s music at the Fold.

A.P. Carter died in 1960.  The world had changed a bit, and with his absence from the industry for so long, he was largely unappreciated at the time.  A decade later, he was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame, and in 2001, he was added to the International Bluegrass Music Hall of Honor.

We never appreciate the good ones until it’s too late, it seems.

But the music he documented and created goes on forever.