To where so much bluegrass music began

Judy and I took a trip to a place where lots of wonderful bluegrass music got its start.  No, not some remote hillside in the Appalachians where guys in overalls play "Li'l Darlin' Pal of Mine" all day, but to the Deering banjo factory in Spring Valley CA, just east of San Diego.  Judy had just upgraded to a Deering banjo (it does sound great, even to my untrained ear), and since she was in San Diego for a conference, I got to tag along for a long weekend.  (The perks of being married to an academic librarian - oh, the places I get to go!)  The Deering factory gives tours, and we were both interested to see how banjos were made. 

We got there a half-hour early after stopping off at an In-n-Out Burger (they only do two things - burgers and fries - but they do them exceedingly well), and that gave us time to peruse the store.  They had 'em all - four strings, five strings, the long-neck banjos that Pete Seeger and the Kingston Trio made famous (does anyone ever bother with those lower frets?), and six-string banjo-guitars.  They had resonator banjos, open-back banjos, along with song books, hats, picks, CDs, DVDs, straps, about as much as you could ask for in a banjo store.

Our tour guide was Carolina, a 50-ish woman in jeans and red turtleneck.  She showed us the difference in sound between various banjos, answered a few questions, and then took us back into the factory.  Those in our tour group who didn't wear glasses had to wear safety goggles, and I was tempted to get a pair myself.  I've had these new lenses in my glasses for less than a week, and I didn't want to get them scratched up.  It turns out the goggles weren't needed, though.  So we went through the factory pretty much in a random order of assembly rather than starting at "this is where the wood comes in" and finishing at "the banjo has passed inspection, goes into its shipping box, and gets sent to a dealer.  Bye, banjo!"  Carolina's voice was also at the same range as the background noise of the factory, so her voice faded away before it ever hit my ears.  Judy and I nodded, looked interested, and peeked over the shoulders of the men hunkered away at their work stations.  (All men - the women-folk were all working up at the front office.  The division of labor there, like the music, bends toward the traditional.)  There was also time for some questions, and I tried to avoid the usual questions as well as the off-the-wall questions:

"Did'ja ever meet Bela Fleck / Earl Scruggs / Jerry Garcia / (insert name here)?"
"You hardly ever hear banjo in prog rock.  Why is that?"
"How come that one string only goes halfway down the neck?"
"Pete Seeger?  I've heard of him.  He sang 'Night Moves,' didn't he?"
"Know any good banjo jokes?"

We kind of got the bum's rush during the tour because the factory was expecting a local celebrity - Larry Himmel, a long-time local reporter and former south side Chicagoan. He and his camera crew arrived just as the tour finished, and the sight of all those banjos must have jarred his memory. "I grew up with this guy in Oak Lawn who was a really good banjo player. We went to high school together, we went to college together, and he just got nominated for a Grammy!"

I overheard the conversation. "You mean Greg Cahill?"

"Yes! That's him! Greg Cahill!"

"Well, my wife is currently taking banjo lessons with him!" Not only does Greg give great banjo lessons as shown by Judy's sense of excitement when she comes home afterwards, but Greg's band Special Consensus got a Grammy for Best Bluegrass album for Scratch Gravel Road. So I introduced Judy to Larry, and he left her a message to give to Greg, all while the camera was rolling.


Larry Himmel - San Diego local reporter since 1979 who felt
the time has come to tell the banjo's story.

We went back to the showroom and admired the banjos.  The prize banjo was a tenor banjo that had amazing inlay on the back and ran for a cool $38,000.  I was playing with a lesser-prized tenor banjo - only $11,000 - and was able to figure out a C chord, and from there I was playing a rather disjointed version of Neil Diamond's "Song Sung Blue."  (For those trying out an instrument with only a rudimentary knowledge of that instrument, "Song Sung Blue" is a good way to fake a sense of expertise.)


The back of a Deering tenor banjo, complete with gorgeous wood inlay and zirconium jewels.  Thirty-eight grand and it's yours.



All I need is a short-sleeved stiped shirt and I'm ready for the Kingston Trio.

Judy tries her hand with a banjo guitar.

We finished our visit with purchases of a few CDs (Carolina Chocolate Drops and John McEuen) for the rest of the trip, having forgotten to bring any CDs with us.  (Nothing says "incongruous" like an acoustic version of "Mr. Bojangles" booming out of a 2013 black Ford Mustang.)  But Judy was happy to see where her new banjo originated, I tried out a five-figure tenor banjo, so the trip was a big success.  Now if I could get Deering to make some left-handed models.

Do you think Judy is excited to visit?