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Hollywood glamorpuss to shame. Yet it's true. With Helen and Anita, they compose a family musical group. The Carter Sisters, who wandered out of the Clinch Mountains of VirÂginia not so long ago playing and singing old-time tunes. Today they are plucking pure gold from their guitars and autoharp, yet, like all other backwoods entertainers I met, affluence hasn't gone to their heads. They prefer to remain plain country folks.
I think Red Foley hit it on the head. This surge of popuÂlarity for home folk music is no fad. It's the expression of a yearning which all of us, consciously or not, feel for the simplicities of life. Caught up nowadays in a savage riptide of tremendous forces we can't control, bewildered by the complexities and uncertainties of international affairs we don't entirely comprehend, disillusioned by evidences of evildoing by men we are supposed to respect, we need these elemental verities more than ever. And we find them in the songs of good people whose roots are deep in the good earth.
When I told a sophisticated friend that I was writing an article about hillbillies, he snorted, "Corn! Raw, imhusked corn!" I had to resist an impulse to smack him. I didn't do it, but I thought: "Brother, if this is corn, I'll take all I can get." |
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