Angola to Zydeco: Louisiana Lives

Marc of Distinction

14 Marc of Distinction Marc Savoy talks about growing up, building accordions, slopping pigs, preserving culture, and marketing quality. april 4, 2001 In a field east of Eunice on U.S. 190 sits a large green building surrounded by trees and meandering chickens. If you’re driving sixtyfive miles an hour down the four-lane highway toward town, you might not even notice it if it weren’t for the large white sign with black letters that reads “Savoy Music Center.” Marc Savoy is an imposingly tall man. His voice is a deep baritone and, whether speaking in French or English, his words are terse. His large hands could effortlessly wring the neck of a chicken. Instead, they spend hours connecting reeds, springs, buttons, stops, and bellows into his handmade Acadian accordions. He opened the music store and accordion factory in 1966, but he began laying the foundation in 1965 with the idea that he could operate a successful music store catering to the local Cajun and Creole musicians while still remaining true to his heritage. On average, he constructs nearly one hundred accordions a year. For the last thirtyfive years, he has shown his appreciation for his customers by hosting a Saturday morning jam session at the store. It attracts locals and tourists alike. It’s not uncommon to hear a dozen fiddles accompanying one accordion. The informal setting allows no room for stars and plenty of room for music lovers. 15 • Marc of Distinction Born in 1940 outside of Eunice on his father’s rice farm, Savoy’s view of the world was shaped by observing the sheep, geese, goats, cows, pigs, turkeys, ducks, and chickens that surrounded him. He was also influenced by the older musicians he heard as a child. Hiram Courville, a tenant farmer and accordion player, suggested to his father that he purchase the boy an accordion. “To me,” Savoy has written, “owning an accordion was about as farfetched as owning the moon.” His father purchased his son’s first accordion when he was twelve, a Hohner 114 model from Sears, Roebuck and Co. for $27.50. His accordion arrived a few days before Christmas and on the opening day of dove season. After lunch, the boy declined to go hunting with his father and stayed behind to unpack his accordion. He withdrew into his room and when his father had returned, he had taught himself to play “J’ai Passe Devant Ta Porte.” Today, Savoy’s playing ability is world-renowned, and his handmade accordions are held as the standard for builders to build and players to play. These days, he seldom performs in public, preferring instead to spend his time building accordions and jamming with friends. He rarely grants interviews, believing that the media has “a skewed view, a preconceived notion of what this culture is.” Frustrated by outsiders ’ assumptions and perceptions about local culture, he has written several unpublished pieces, including “Ponderings of a Reincarnated Neanderthal” and “An Interview with Myself.” The latter is generally what he provides journalists requesting an interview. It keeps him from having to provide “the answers for their formula,” while still making his thoughts known. “People always misinterpret the things I say,” Savoy says. In the process, he believes the culture ends up being glamorized instead of being understood. In an effort not to misconstrue his intentions, here are his own words from an interview conducted recently in his store. Marc of Distinction • 16 D ennis McGee was a tenant farmer for my grandpa and he and I were much closer buddies than I was with his kids. I had nothing in common with his kids—who I’m friends with now—but in those days they hated Cajun music. All my friends were people like Dennis and Sady Courville or my grandpa. I wasn’t interested with the grandkids. I was interested in the grandparents. I just thought those old people were so amazing. To me they were so much more fun. They were lively. They wanted to play music. They wanted to have a party. They were so interesting. All these other kids wanted to either go to some teeny-bopper hop or go to some stupid ballgame or cheerleader practice or all this other mundane mediocrity. I just couldn’t relate to it. I sure wasn’t interested in sports. I couldn’t understand what the big attraction was. I still...