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Discovery 1 “Hey Bob, listen to this!” It was my close friend and bandmate Mike Stapleton calling from the Banjo Shop in Hollywood, Florida, just south of Ft. Lauderdale. Compressed and distorted by the low fidelity of telephone transmission, what I heard sounded like amplified blues harmonica—but not quite. It was the soulful and compelling voice of African American gospel music played on the electric lap-steel guitar, the first of several samples of the music I would hear via Mike’s telephone calls from his store over the next several weeks. On more than one occasion he left a musical message, sans any spoken explanation, on my telephone answering machine. It was the summer of 1992, and I had been working for less than two years as a folk arts coordinator at the Bureau of Florida Folklife Programs in the tiny town of White Springs (population 800), on the banks of the Suwannee River, about thirty miles south of the Georgia border. I commuted daily from Gainesville, sixty miles to the south. In 1986, when I was living in suburban southwest Miami-Dade County, Mike and I had formed Gumbo Limbo, a band that played Cajun dance music. After I moved to Gainesville in 1989, we managed to keep the band going despite hundreds of miles between members. Mike and I spoke frequently on the telephone for both personal and business reasons. The Banjo Shop was a gem of a music store that drew vernacular string musicians from all over the southern half of the state. Aware that I was always looking for leads for traditional artists, Mike was in the habit of giving me contact information for musicians who patronized the Banjo Shop. And there were plenty; musicians from a rich diversity of cultures visited the store. There was a champion Yugoslavian fiddler, Bolivian charango players, a Tongan who played the ukulele and steel guitar, Mexican mariachi artists, Puerto Rican cuatro players, legions of old-time and bluegrass pickers and fiddlers (for years the Banjo Shop had the longest 2 chapter 1 running weekly bluegrass jam listed in Bluegrass Unlimited magazine), and black gospel musicians. Mike co-owned the business with two brothers, Dave and Paul Stype. Paul played the Dobro and dabbled in electric lap-steel guitar. The Banjo Shop’s large inventory of new, used, and vintage string instruments always included a selection of lap- and pedal-steel guitars—instruments rarely stocked by most music stores. The store also sold Peavey amplifiers, the brand preferred by many steel guitarists. Among the patrons were black men interested in the electric lap-steel guitars. When they tried out the instruments, Mike immediately took notice of the music they played. It had nothing of the sweet, twangy quality of the country music with which steel guitar is commonly associated. Instead, this steel guitar music spoke in a rich, rhythmic, African American voice that shouted Pentecostal praises to the Lord, moaned soulfully, and soared like Aretha Franklin singing a hymn for a steamy Sunday service. Mike cannot recall who the first African American steel guitarist to try out instruments at the Banjo Shop was, but my early contact lists show Gussie Stokes, Kalvin “Champ” Kimmerlin, and Lee Pough to be among the first to visit the store and play the steel guitar. Although all three gave Mike their contact information, which he forwarded to me, they all told him they were lesser players and that Aubrey Ghent and Glenn Lee were the best in southern Florida, the ones we really needed to hear. Before too long Glenn Lee was in the Banjo Shop seeking a remedy for a Peavey amplifier he had damaged while playing at maximum volume for a lengthy church meeting. About the same time Mike obtained Aubrey Ghent’s telephone number. These two contacts set in motion a journey that continues to bring new discoveries in a musical subgenre heretofore virtually unknown outside the churches where the music is made—even to specialists in African American gospel music. On November 7, 1992, I made my first trip to southern Florida to document Aubrey Ghent and Glenn Lee. Mike accompanied me to Ghent’s home in the early afternoon, but could not stay for the evening session with Glenn Lee. Ghent was living in a modest concrete block dwelling at 2715 Avenue D in Fort Pierce in the heart of one of the town’s African American neighborhoods, a home he shared with another single man. Fort...

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