The Sunny Side of Appalachia, Bluegrass from the Grassroots (book)
by Betty Dotson-Lewis (B. L. Dotson-Lewis)

Introduction

Dear God,

How are Y'all? Good, I hope. Do you have a minute for me?

I wanted to tell you about my new book on Appalachia. This book covers the history of bluegrass music from the grassroots. I am using oral history interviews, photos, and stories about this music to tell the story which is so much a part of the cultural heritage of the Appalachian Mountains.
God, do you like bluegrass? Well, if Bill Monroe, the Father of Bluegrass, date of death, September 9, 1996; Carter Stanley, Ralph's brother, date of death, December 1, 1966; and, Maybelle Carter, date of death, October 23, 1978, made it passed St. Pete and through the Pearly Gates, I don't have to tell you about bluegrass music, you've got the best band around. Harps may be the instrument of choice on the bluegrass stage in Heaven, I don't know.
The title of my new book is "The Sunny Side of Appalachia: Bluegrass History from the Grassroots." Don't you love the title?
Just as my first two books came about, nothing was pre-arranged. I didn't know I would be doing this book, but you hold the plan for each of us in your hands. The urgency to write this book hit me in June on the Saturday prior to the opening day of "Music In The Mountains" Bluegrass Festival which is held here in Summersville, West Virginia where I live. Here's how it happened.
I was mowing my backyard. It was mid-afternoon and a pleasant day for working outside when suddenly, I realized a historical event was about to take place less than 4 miles from where I live. I needed to document this important history as it occurred. I dropped the handle of my John Deere, self-propelled mower on the spot as if I had been hit in the head by a faith healer such as Ernest Angsley. I grabbed a notepad, a pen, and keys to my Jeep, tied a bandana around my head to keep the sweat out of my eyes, and headed for the music park. I didn't even bother to change clothes, wash the grass off my arms and legs, or change from my lawn mowing shoes. An important mission lay ahead, or so it appeared.
I pulled into the music park; a cows' pasture transformed overnight into a bluegrass music venue. I parked, got out, and walked over to where the gate keepers, Burl Willis, his wife, Linda, and daughter Abby, were ushering hundreds of campers in for a week long diet of bluegrass music. The gatekeepers were locals, I knew.
I told them I wanted to do a book on bluegrass as part of my series on Appalachia's culture and traditions preservation. Our roots. I asked them how they thought it would go over with the new owners of the Bluegrass Festival. The Nazarene Church people who had purchased the campground, Bluegrass Festival, lock, stock and barrel, the previous summer. Burl, Linda and Abby got so excited. They told me they thought it was a great idea. I told them I wanted them to be part of my book. They said the next step would be to talk to Cindy.
Burl jumped on his golf-cart and took off to find Cindy, the new festival commander-in-chief. Shortly, they both returned and I met Cindy Pourbaix for the first time. I told her the same thing I had told the others, that I needed to do this book on bluegrass to help preserve this regional and local history of the mountain people. She agreed it was of utmost importance.
She asked me how I planned on doing the book and I said, "I would bring a hand held, battery operated recorder and a camera. I told her I would walk around the campground and ask fans of bluegrass for an interview. I told her I would ask musicians for interviews and people from the Nazarene Church. Just a random collection to represent the history of the music and its connection with Summersville, West Virginia, our bluegrass town.
She told me to come and go as I wished and get whatever information I could for this book which, she agreed would entertain, document, and educate.
So, that's how it all began. I am working very hard. It is so exciting. God, you have the most exciting plans for us.

God, thank you for the privilege of growing up here in these rugged, remote, beautiful mountains of Appalachia. Thank you for my heritage.

Take care,
B. L. Dotson-Lewis
Summersville, West Virginia

P.S. I thank you when I remember you.
(Paul from the Bible)