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10/1/26
Sparks in the Rain
My high school was across the street from the public library in Wheaton, Maryland. We students were allowed to use it after getting a permission slip from a teacher, which wasn’t really that hard to get. One day, I got my pass to cross the street and browse the books. Only, I didn’t look at any books. I was interested in the library’s loaner lp records a friend had told me about. I was disappointed at first. I flipped through Mozart, Frank Sinatra, whom I’d heard enough of at home, thanks to Mom, The Beatles, not bad, but they had reached saturation level. Wait, what’s this? I picked up an album with a black and white picture of hillbillies playing fiddle, banjo, mandolin, and guitar. “The Stanley Brothers: Their Original Recordings” looked promising. I had been listening to Daddy’s bluegrass records and was drawn to the more traditional artists, and this looked ancient. The back of the jacket told me it was a reissue of 78 rpm records on the Rich-R-Tone label. Done deal. I checked the record out of the library. When I got home from school and put it on the turntable, I was transported to another universe, far away and back in time. I thought - This is what I’ve been searching for all my life! After I’d played it until I learned all the songs by heart, I needed more. I couldn’t drive yet, so I talked Mom into carrying me to the Country Music Warehouse, a hillbilly record store in Gaithersburg. They had two Stanley Brothers albums for sale! – A no brainer. I was in and out of that store within five minutes, which made Mom happy. My new purchases were more recent recordings. They had a totally different sound than the record from the library, less rawness and incredibly intense singing. That singing made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my heart pound. Oh, my goodness! “The Fields Have Turned Brown” was so moving, I literally wept. That’s not something a teenage boy would admit, but fifty-five years later, I’ll confess to it. I was hooked on Stanleys for life. When I found out that one of the Stanley brothers was still alive and only in his forties, I made it my mission to seek him out and see him perform in person.
Fast-forward ten years.
I learned that Ralph Stanley ran a bluegrass festival in his hometown of McLure, Virginia, so it was McLure or bust for me. In 1981, I began an annual pilgrimage to that festival at Ralph’s Old Home Place. I believe it was when I was there for the third time that what I’ve been taking so long to tell you about took place. The stage at Ralph’s was deep down in a hollow at the bottom of a steep hill - a natural amphitheater. The seats were boards nailed to the still-rooted stumps of the trees that had been cut to create a space for the audience. In front of the stage was a second, lower stage for flatfoot dancers. The speakers were mounted on raised wooden platforms on either side of the stage. There was a bench at the back of the stage, behind the microphones, where you were allowed to sit if you asked politely, so you could be on stage with Ralph, Bill, or anybody else who was playing, as long as you sat quietly. A painting of a tree and the sun rising was behind the artists. The top of the painting was lettered, 'Ralph Stanley’s Old Home Place,' in case folks who had been drinking moonshine needed to be reminded of where they were located. Ralph usually booked a few local bands who were fantastic, including The Wilson Brothers, who sounded like the Stanley Brothers, played only gospel music, and were absolutely amazing. Most of the bluegrass stars were there; Bill Monroe, Jimmy Martin, Jim & Jesse, The Marshall Family, The Goins Brothers, The Boys from Indiana, Larry Sparks, and probably some I can’t remember.
One night while Larry Sparks was on stage, the wind kicked up and it started raining as hard as I had ever seen it rain. Water was pouring down the hill into the stage area, carrying lawn chairs, coolers, blankets, cans, and bottles with it. The audience fled up the hill to try to save their campsites, all except me and one other fellow who had taken refuge under one of the large speakers. I took his lead and joined him at the only partially dry spot. Larry Sparks and his band kept on playing and singing, as if nothing were amiss. The power went out. Larry kept singing and picking. We could see him, but the storm made it impossible to hear what he was doing. Maybe he saw us weathering the storm, because he kept singing his heart out for his audience of two, until he finished all the songs he had planned to do, then retreated to the backstage area. I wonder if he knew we never heard a thing he did after the power went out. When Larry finished up, I introduced myself to the other fool who had stuck it out and was shocked to learn that he, like me, was from Maryland. His name was Danny Beach.
The next day, we found each other and incredibly, Danny knew practically every Stanley Brothers song. Holy crap!
This next is not relevant, but it’s funny. Danny was there with his son, David, who I reckon was about ten years old. As Bill Monroe was finishing his set, Danny told his son to go down to the stage and help Bill carry his mandolin up the hill. David ran down to the stage and told Monroe that he had been sent to help an old man with his instrument. So, Bill handed David the mandolin in its case and sprinted up the hill, way ahead of the kid. At the top, Monroe was laughing and hollering, “Come on boy, you can do it,” as David was struggling to make it up the steep grade while trying to manage the mandolin.
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Back in Maryland, both Danny and I were running incomplete bands. My band, the Montgomery County Ramblers, lacked a banjo player, as Bill Blackburn had been transferred back to Nevada. Danny had no mandolin or bass player. We decided to merge the bands, keeping the name he had come up with, The Patuxent Partners. So, Danny, John Barney, Jim Barnett, Mike Mareceau, Curtis Tabor and I played our first show, at Benedict Marina, in October 1984. The band has undergone many changes over the years, but it was Larry Sparks, a hoss who ain’t scared of a little rain, who caused the chance meeting that got the ball rolling.
Photos:
1. The Stanley Brothers album jacket
2. Me playing at Ralph’s festival a few years later – That’s Mark Delaney playing banjo.
3. David Beach & Ralph Stanley
4. Me and Danny Beach
Tom Mindte
October 2026
The Stanley Brothers album jacket
Me playing at Ralph’s festival a few years later – That’s Mark Delaney playing banjo.
Ralph Stanley & David Beach
Me and Danny Beach