Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles Volume VI, by author Paul Lintern. It is set in the 1860s and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of young people. This is the sixth in a series. Volume I is Amelia Changes Her Tune. Volume II is Isaac and Wolf Paw Find Their Home. Volume III is Autumn Keeps Her Secret. Volume IV is Mr. Gamble Starts a School. Volume V is Jacob Blows his Horn.
May 19, 1863
My Dear Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman;
I am flattered that you have sought me out for the sake of your son and daughter.
I am happy to receive you on the 27th at my home in Mt. Vernon. It is fortunate that I am here for an interval as I have been residing in New York and plan to return soon.
I am interested in hearing your son play banjo and will be happy to give him some pointers, if he has not already exceeded my skills, and will be happy to talk to your daughter about the art of musical composition.
I will be happy to hear news of your father, Autumn, as my father often spoke well of him and I enjoyed performing at his Inn on occasion, as you recall.
Musically yours, “Ol’ Dan Tucker” Emmett
Cassie couldn’t believe it.
I get to meet Mr. Dixie!
Daniel D. Emmett had written “Dixie” just before the war started. It had caught on like wildfire in popularity, and then became the rallying song of the Confederacy just as quickly, to everyone’s dismay in the North, including Mr. Emmett.
Cassie and Jacob loved to sing it and play it and even caught themselves whistling it, but they had no idea that Grandpappy and Mama knew him.
“He used to come to Grandpappy’s Inn, with his father,” Mama said. “Dan would play his banjo and sings songs he had written.
“My favorite was one he wrote about himself, ‘Old Dan Tucker.’ That’s why he signed the letter as he did,” she said, smiling as she reread the letter.
He was fun, and even though he was older than me, he always included me in his visits, like an older brother.
“Well how many visits were there?” Cassie asked.
“Not a lot, but enough to feel like they were old friends visiting. His daddy and your Grandpappy go way back. Went way back. Dan’s daddy’s been dead awhile.”
“Do you think he’ll like my banjo-playing?” Jacob piped up.
“Better than he would your bugle-playing,” Cassie retorted.
“Hear that,” Mama added.
“Yes, Jacob, he will get a kick out of it, because you are improving remarkably. Anything to get out of piano practice, right?” Jacob smiled.
His mother knew him well.
“As long as we have one piano player in the family, I guess I will be satisfied,” Mama said.
“And a little banjo music adds to the mix.
“And be sure to have ‘Turkey in the Straw’ under your belt to play. That’s a favorite of mine that he wrote, and the South did not steal that one away,” she smiled.
The day came for the visit and all were up early, ready to catch the 7:15 train going south. Cassie was adjusting her bonnet when she heard her father talking to Mama about something with the War.
“But Levi, we haven’t seen Dan in years, since before he became famous. Aren’t you a little curious?”
“Of course I am, Autumn, but I need to meet with these officers.”
He’s not going.
“But you rarely go anywhere with us.”
“And I wouldn’t be going anywhere at all if I weren’t assigned here; we should be happy about that.”
He’s got other things to do, again.
“But the children miss you.”
“But I’m here.”
It’s not the same.
“It’s not the same, and you know it,” Mama was saying.
“I’ll make it up to them, I promise,” Papa replied.
Autumn leaned around the corner to see Papa and Mama in the kitchen. Papa saw her.
“Ah, Cassie, there you are, and aren’t you beautiful? More stunningly so with every dawn,” he said.
“Please come, Papa.”
He hesitated.
Say yes.
“I really want to, princess.”
But you won’t.
“But I can’t, I really can’t. I need you to understand.”
I don’t understand at all.
“Sure Papa, whatever you say.”
“And you greet Old Dan for me, and come back and tell me all about it,” Papa said.
“I’ll report back, sir,” Cassie said, only a little sarcastically.
“That’s my pretty soldier,” he smiled.
Cassie smiled back.
I can’t stay mad at him, even if I want to.
Jacob came down and was obviously perturbed that his father was bowing out.
“It’s all women as usual,” he muttered.
Still, the thought of going to see a famous songwriter kept him buoyed up and soon Mama, Cassie and Jacob were walking briskly to Sixth and Diamond at the train station, for a one-hour ride to Mt. Vernon, where Mr. Emmett had grown up and still maintained his home.
Jacob’s banjo was strapped over his back and Cassie had two of Mr. Emmet’s songs rolled up in her carrying bag. As they boarded the train, Mama was recalling their last visit.
“Papa and I went to dance to his band about 10 years ago; oh my, it was longer than that, because you weren’t born yet. The Virginia Minstrels they were called. I remember them playing his Blue Tail Fly.
“He had hundreds of verses — well, dozens as least — and he would just keep singing them and we would listen to the funny lyrics then just jump into the chorus — Jimmie crack born, and I don’t care, Jimmie crack born, and I don’t care, Jimmie crack born and I don’t care, my master’s gone away.”
Cassie smiled to think of her parents jumping and dancing and smiling.
Oh Papa, please start dancing again.
