In our sub-neighborhood of Mt Greenwood, we being from Mt. Greenwood Heights, there lived a man called Banjo Dan.
WARNING: This story is 20 yr BI (Before Internet) . Some terms and descriptions may not apply today 2021, or 30 AI, (After Internet). If it bores you already, just get back to your cellphone.
Dan Ryder. He had a bungalow, clean and tidy, a charming AU Collie dog, smart as whip - and of course, his lovely wife. My memory doesn't bring back children, I apologize if I am wrong. This is a 38 yr old brain grab, bits have broken off. The year was 1983.
He had a basement workshop to build and repair banjos. He was running a mail-order business for banjo parts, strings, buy and sell, trade type side business. At that time I was buying and selling guitars, shipping them through the mail, working though Elderly catalog. Never sold a guitar at a loss. Bought Gibson's mostly, fell in love with the Yamaha 350, hated to ship them away and always thought I'd find another. Not yet. So, Dan and I found common interest and developed a friendship.
Dan was JebuS Come Save Me Christian. I was a young, wild Southside Irishman thrashing on an acoustic guitar. Even then I could do a passable G-C-D til the cows came home, so Dan could thrash around on his bluegrass-wanna-be banjo dreams. I seem to remember Saturday afternoon would be our time to jam in the basement, and, sitting next to the dryer, I'd have to battle the dry cycle for the beat. I found Dan to be a most deep and complex character, his black humor cruel and funny. With him I watched close... ... he watched me close. He had every intention on 'saving' me from my wretched desires.
Sometimes, in close communication like sharing music, during break people share. Making music together is an incredible horizontal emotional experience. If you are all into it, even the off-time egg shakers xo, a tremendous time is enjoyed. Well, Dan would get dark. Seven years in Special Forces Vietnam medical units, his stories made the hair on my triceps stand on end. I had to reel him back in, it wasn't a learned thing I did but an intuitive human place, get him back to his banjo or I ain't going to see the clothes dry. Dan had a reason to hang onto Jesus, I respected that and that is why he trusted me with the battle stories.
I had some residue from 12 years of Catholic education, but at that time in my life Mr. Jesus stood third after pussy and pizza. Fourth. Beer was first.
I liked Dan the moment I met him. He was a deep genuine individual, to be respected. If you want to hang your battle armor on the coat rack of Jesus, Palsy, I got your back.
He took me out to his Baptist church in Highland, IN for the Musical Jamboree Day and service, of course. This Catholic boy had never been to such an extravaganza stage show. It was the closest I every came to Vegas. The band was wailing like Hendrix, clapping, shouting, pretty girls dancing down both aisles, winking like crazy at me. I was out of my league in the praising God part of life.
The moment he took the podium after a huge Mike Pence-like build up from Rev. Neil Andbob, in my mind I called him Rev. Smiley. Full set of chompers gleaming brightly in the show lights, hair like a coiffured wig, Maybe, maybe, it was? Rev. Smiley rolled us all over with guilt, shame, and ultimately, you, are to blame sermon. With a round up of, "OK, Everyone let's get out to the lawn tent, get enough to eat and enjoy these hooligan musicians for a couple hours."
The opener was the bluegrass band Dan was part of, one of the reasons he invited me. After the third song about Jesus, tuning up and talking to the crowd, it was explained to aliens like myself that in this church every song is about Jesus. They opened the show well and Dan did great on the banjo.
Next up a quartet of Gospel singers, knocked my socks off. They did 20 or more Songs of Jesus with stunning harmonies, a Capella. Then they brought on a piano player called Richard Burton. I just remember the name. He started playing that upright piano stage right and with the quartet singing and the guitar ringing, he had that piano walking all over the stage. Amazing, straight out of Jerry Lee, but all Gospel. They did 20 more Jesus songs.
It really was a stunning musical show. I developed lifelong fondness for Gospel music... and it was a memorable afternoon for me, still telling it today. I am grateful.
Dan was also a Paramedic on the Chicago Fire Dept. He was a scab throughout the strike against Mayor Jane Byrne, led by firefighter Frank Moscare, union leader, he holding a politician's feet to the fire, so to speak. Dan went to work. His reason was to save lives. He had no respect for 'jumpers'. Dan didn't have time for drama or clean up, washing it all down the sewer. He was a kind man just holding it together trying to hold others together. I think, possibly, he thought he was 'called', it seems plausible. But his co-workers at the firehouse shunned him for the rest of his career.
You could hear him on the fire escape, practicing, his name, Banjo Dan.
Memory, not fact
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