Y’all heard the news?

TV star and indie music darling Zooey Deschanel will be playing Loretta on Broadway. I got this story straight from the good folks at LorettaLynn.com.

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Country Music Hall of Fame member Loretta Lynn is taking her life story to Broadway, and she has tapped film and TV actress Zooey Deschanel to play her on stage.

Lynn, 80, unveiled plans for a musical adaptation of “Coal Miner’s Daughter” during a Grand Ole Opry show at the Ryman Auditorium on Thursday night. Wearing one of her signature long sleeve, floor length dresses, the singer blew through four songs before bringing Deschanel onstage to sing the title tune.

The announcement mirrored the way Lynn invited actress Spacek on the Opry stage in 1979 to reveal that Spacek would play her in the upcoming film. Spacek later won an Academy Award for her portrayal of Lynn.

“I have a friend here tonight. I don’t know if ya’ll remember when Sissy Spacek was with me. I brought her out here with me. She about fainted. We both fainted,” Lynn said with a laugh. “She went on to do the ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter,’ and you know from there. Well, there’s a little girl back stage that’s going to do the play of ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter’ on Broadway,” Lynn continued. “Zooey, where you at honey?”

Deschanel, 32, the star and a producer of the Fox comedy “New Girl,” then emerged in a short, vintage-inspired white dress. She grabbed Lynn’s hand and flashed a dazzling smile.

“Are you going to help me sing ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter’?” asked Lynn. “I’m going to help you sing,” said Deschanel, who has been nominated for a Grammy Award. “This is a great honor for me. This is my hero.”

The two traded verses and they ended the song holding hands. “Coal Miner’s Daughter” was a No. 1 hit for Lynn in 1970 that she wrote about growing up as one of eight children in rural Kentucky. It became the title of her 1976 autobiography and the basis for the 1980 movie, starring Sissy Spacek, which traces Lynn’s rise from humble beginnings into one of country music’s most beloved singers.

In 1972, Lynn became the first woman to be named Entertainer of the Year by the Country Music Association. Among the songs performed in the film are “You Ain’t Woman Enough to Take My Man,” “You’re Looking at Country,” “I’m a Honky Tonk Girl,” and the title song.

Plans for a stage adaptation are still in the beginning stages, with no creative team attached or workshop dates announced. The producers – Fox Theatricals and Scott Sanders Productions – have been behind such Broadway hits as “Legally Blonde,” `’The Color Purple,” `’Red” and “Thoroughly Modern Millie.”

Deschanel has starred in such films as “Elf,” “(500) Days of Summer” and “Your Highness.” Producers of the musical said their schedule would not conflict with the actress “New Girl” commitments. Deschanel also has a musical side. She has appeared on some of her movie soundtracks and in a jazz cabaret act called If All the Stars Were Pretty Babies. She has also released three albums with M. Ward as the folk-rock duo She & Him, and she performed three songs for the recent animated film “Winnie the Pooh.” One of those songs, “So Long,” was nominated for a Grammy in the category of Best Song Written For Visual Media.

During the surprise duet Thursday as part of the Grand Ole Opry Country Classics, Deschanel sang her parts strong, with a convincing lilt in her voice. As the music faded out, Lynn said to the crowd, “Don’t forget her name. Her name is Zooey.”

And with that, another coal miner’s daughter was born.

Original lead photo from CNN post on every day life in Appalachia.

Over the weekend, CNN posted controversial photos from Appalachia. The collection opened with KKK members surrounding a burning cross. It went on to show snake handlers, religious fundamentalists, and shirtless men who looked strung out.

Those of us from Appalachia know that these images are the exception and sensational, but CNN sure didn’t play them that way. The news channel said that the photographer was capturing ”the everyday lives of the people of Appalachia.”

Appalachian locals posted comments in the hundreds, most of them outraged:

“I am from the Appalachians and this is not everyday life. This is akin to racist stereotypes of African Americans before the civil rights movement. Repulsive.”

“I’ve lived in the South for four decades and have seen exactly zero robed Klansmen and pretty much the same number of snake handlers.”

“These pictures appear to be the result of an immature photographer from LA out to reinforce her smug stereotypes about the South. CNN why are you promoting this?”

Reading the comments and reviewing the photos, I also wondered what was this photographer thinking. Was she really trying to propagate stereotypes about mountain people? Didn’t she know how damaging this kind of photography can be?

Rather than speculate, I decided to ask her for a telephone interview. Her name is Stacy Kranitz, and she promptly replied to my email. The first thing she told me was that she felt burned by CNN.

“I admit that my experience with CNN was very upsetting and I am weary of the media right now,” she said, “Even though I have great respect for alternative media sources I’m not sure how confident I feel about a phone conversation. Maybe we can begin the conversation via email.”

So I emailed Stacy a couple of questions at a time, and she replied, providing me with the full story behind her hotly disputed photos. I’ve boiled our emails into a simple interview that shows what this unconventional artist was really thinking. Stacy’s excerpts are unaltered, but I did edit my questions to give you, the reader, better context.

Also, while we were exchanging emails, CNN updated the photos, adding additional shots in an attempt to better represent Appalachian culture. Stacy and I talked about this too.

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TR: Stacy, CNN originally published a portion of your shots from the Appalachians. That subset of your work lit a fire among people from the region. What do you think about the outrage? 

SC: I think people are rightfully angry. I am disgusted to see the words ”the everyday lives of appalachian people” next to images of the KKK. That is a real insult to the region as is the reductive edit of my work and I understand why people are so offended by it.

TR: What would you like people to take away from your Appalachian photos?

TR: CNN has added more photos that represent a wider range of Appalachian experiences, but they didn’t remove the words “everyday lives.” Are you satisfied?

SC: Whaen I contacted them, the photo editors at CNN showed genuine concern for my desire to have the project presented in a way that was true to my intentions. While so much of the damage has already been done with so many people seeing the original sequence of images I appreciated that the editors where immediately responsive to my desires to change the edit to be more accurate to the project.

They did not want to change the text “everyday lives of appalachian people” because they feel that in the context of the article they are not saying that my images reflect the everyday lives of appalachian people but that the images were taken of people in their everyday lives. In the end I agreed that the text was accurate to the interview I gave and with the new edit I feel that the project is shown in a much less antagonistic way. At the end of the day I took these pictures and I have to reconcile with the fact that not everyone is going to take the time to understand what I am doing. Some people are going to be angry that a picture of a Klan rally exists in the edit at all even if it is there to reference an obvious stereotype instead of perpetuate it. I am not making a travel brochure of the area.

While CNN has made the changes i requested I still think it is valuable to continue the discussion about appalachia, representations and stereotypes.

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What do you think? Do you look at the photos differently after reading this? What do you think of Stacy’s work and CNN’s handling of the situation?

Photo Provided by Bill Meador

I’m not going to lie. I have mixed feelings about Smith Mountain Lake. It’s a 20,600 acre, man-made creation that engulfed towns, farms, and forests when it rose from the banks of the Roanoke River in 1963. Since then, it’s generated miles of McMansions and attracted an influx of Jersey transplants.

It’s not exactly the land of local culture or ecological responsibility, but still, it can be awfully pretty. A summertime sunset behind green mountains shimmering on the lake’s still surface–it’s a scene that melts away the tension. Toss in a cold beer and some grilled meat and you can see why Yankee’s have bought every square foot of shoreline.

It’s this side of Smith Mountain Lake–the slow moving, hammock loving, lake life–that inspired Sarah Elizabeth Timmins to make her indie film. “It all began three years ago, she says, “When a personal soul-searching journey and a reflective walk along Smith Mountain Lake awakened my soul.”

Timmins, a long time film producer, didn’t conceive the film Lake Effect around a plot line or character. She was inspired by a place, by the lake itself. “With simply an idea and location, yet neither script nor money, I committed to starting my own film company and jumped into Lake Effects.”

Vivian Tisdale played by Jane Seymour

She shopped the film to hundreds of funders and with writer Scott Winters began crafting a family story that was as moving as its location. In the film, Los Angeles attorney, Sarah Tisdale (played by Richmond native Scottie Thompson), is called home to Virginia when her father dies in a sudden accident. In the midst of grief, she and her sister come to understand why their father thought it was so important for them to be raised on the lake.

Their mother, who goes through her own journey of loss and reflection, is played by Jane Seymour. The most notable name in the cast, Seymour brings seasoned acting chops and star power to the film, but if you ask Timmins, the real stars are area locals.

“From day one, over two years ago, Smith Mountain Lake residents and businesses embraced the film,” Timmins explains in her press kit, “Individuals offered us the use of their boats, cars, trucks, and even a helicopter. Amazingly, these donations were made with sincere generosity, without any expectations of remuneration.”

To express her gratitude, Timmins is donating a portion of the films proceeds to cleanup efforts at the lake. Having already won recognition at the Omaha and Appalachian Film Festival, Lake Effects premieres tonight on Hallmark Movie Channel at  8:00 PM eastern/7:00 central.

If you watch the movie, tell us what you think. If you live at the lake, did you have any celeb sightings while Lake Effects was being filmed or did you help out with the movie?

We’d love to hear your stories.

No pink slime, no heat lamps, no freezer burn on this patty. This was one of the freshest pieces of meat I’ve ever seen. I ordered it at Local Roots, a farm to table restaurant in Roanoke, Virginia, where the folks aren’t kidding about local.

The menu actually names farms where the dishes originate. The duck breast is from Crescent Farms, the bison from Hollow Hill Farm. In the fifteen minutes between ordering my burger and its delivery, I probably could have driven to the pasture where it was raised, shook hands with the farmer, and met its cow cousins.

And it’s not just the meat that’s local. This super-duper burger was topped with a nose thrilling, breath killing aioli made with fresh, locally harvested ramps. Whoever combed Virginia’s forests for these beauties deserves a reward and a big hug. The ramps were the centerpiece of one amazing sauce. It made the meal, and every time I saw the delectable, light green smear of it in the photo online, my mouth would fill with saliva and my stomach would leap with excitement.

By Thursday, I’d had enough. I picked up the phone and called Local Roots. When Diane Elliot, the owner, first answered the line, I sped through my name and the name of the website, all in one big word…

Marklynnfergusonfromtherevivalistwordfromtheappalachiansouth

She barely had time to say, “Ah, okay,” before I started glowing about the hamburger and its special sauce. “The meat was incredible and the bun, perfect, and that ramp aioli was just out of this world. Really, great. And I’m wondering if you’d be willing the share the recipe, to publish it on my site.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond before I added, “Not the recipe for the whole burger. Just the recipe for the aioli. I mean, I could make a meal out of it by itself. Ha! It was, seriously, that good.”

Yes, I laughed at my own joke in the middle there. When I finally stopped talking, I heard no response, so I added, “I bet the folks who read The Revivalist would love it too.”

I don’t think Diane knew whether it was safe to speak or not. After a long pause, presumably waiting to see if I would start gushing again, she hesitantly said, “Uhm, yeah, could you hold for a minute?”

“Of course,” I said, enthusiastically, like I’d been waiting all day to listen to some hold music. There was a clunk as Diane sat the phone down but no tunes. All I could hear was a busy, restaurant—the thud of pans being hoisted from surface to surface, silverware clattering as tables were set, someone reciting the night’s specials.

I listened to this cacophony and realized that I’d made one stupid mistake. I’d called at the worst possible time. Diane and her crew were less than an hour away from their dinnertime opening, and there I was, asking about posting a recipe, which, when you think about, is a precious thing to a restauranteur. Recipes are Diane’s bread and butter, and I wanted her to put one on a website that she probably hadn’t read and probably couldn’t name because I’d said it so dang fast.

“I should just let her get back to work,” I thought, hovering my finger over the “End” button, but I thought better of it. Hanging up would only compound the rudeness, so I waited, doodling tight circles on the notepad in front of me and listening to the bustle at the other end of the line. The phone clunked again, and Diane was back. “I talked to the chef,” she said politely but fast, as if we had been talking all along, “and we’re okay with that. It’s fine.”

“Oh, really,” I asked unable to hide my surprise. I wasn’t sure if she was saying yes because she liked the idea or if she just needed to get this strangely eager man off of her phone. Either way, I took it!

I jotted down the ingredients and directions before she had a chance to change her mind and thanked her about twenty times. Diane was already a hero for making this delightful dish; now she’s a saint for sharing it.

So from Saint Diane and the kitchen at Local Roots, I am proud to present ramps aioli, a recipe that originated in the forests of Southwest Virginia and that was procured through a food addict’s enthusiasm.

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LOCAL ROOTS RAMPS AIOLI

Ingredients:

2 egg yolks
4 cloves of garlic confit
chopped ramps to taste
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon of lemon zest
1 teaspoon of dijon mustard

Directions:

Have your ingredients at room temperature. In a blender, add the egg yolks, garlic cloves, and ramps. You might start off light on the ramps. They’ve got kick, and you can always add more as you taste the sauce.

Cover and blend at medium speed until smooth. With the blender running, remove the small cap on your lid and slowly drizzle in half of the olive oil.

Stop the blender and scrape down the sides of the jar. Cover.

Return to medium speed. Remove the small cap and add the lemon juice, the lemon zest, the mustard, and the remaining olive oil. As the sauce thickens, stop the blender to scrape down the sides again and taste.

Not rampy enough?

Gradually add more ramps until the aioli is light green and perfectly pungent. Blend until thick. Chill and serve.

Alan Johnston, featured in Hollow.

Some West Virginians are fed up. They’re tired of seeing coal towns die when industry leaves; they’re tired of being painted as bumpkins in pop media; and they’re especially tired of feeling like they can’t do a thing to change their lot.

Elaine McMillion is chief among them. A young filmmaker who now lives in Boston, she visited home last August and ended up in McDowell County, which has lost more of its population due to mine closures than any other county in the state. She says, “I walked around with my jaw almost hitting the ground; seeing the town with empty storefronts and boarded up doors is extremely saddening, and in some ways infuriating.”

McDowell’s population began declining about 60 years ago. Since then, the population has dropped by about 80,000 people, leaving behind miles of empty homes and businesses.

There’s a hollowness to the place, and it was this absence that moved Elaine to do something. As a filmmaker, she knows how to shoot footage and edit it, so she decided to try to ignite interest in this struggling community through film.

As a West Virginia native, however, Elaine knew better than to do like other filmmakers might–swoop into McDowell County with a camera crew and a predetermined storyline about coal pulling out, towns dying, and all the locals getting hooked on OxyContin. That would have been too easy and inaccurate, and worst of all, it would have painted a hopeless picture for the county. Elaine says, “I have a lot of hope for McDowell.”

Ed Shephard says that he lives in a "damned ghost town."

Instead, she put the power of filmmaking directly in the hands of McDowell natives. Starting this summer, Hollow will be shot in large part by folks who live in McDowell. They will use the crews’ cameras to share images from their own lives. What’s more, Elaine and her team aren’t going in with a pre-scripted scenario. They’re asking residents, “What do you think can help McDowell,” and leaving it to them to come up with answers.

In filmmaking, this is unusual and a little risky. Elaine took time last week to talk with me about giving up control along with the heartbreak and wonder she’s found in West Virginia’s southernmost county.

TR: Elaine, thank you so much for taking the time to talk. You’ve already shot some beautiful interviews with people in McDowell County. They seem just heartbroken about the slow death of their towns, and in the footage, the towns really do look deserted. What happened? Why did the coal company pull out?

EM: The towns are part of a “boom & bust” economy. By the mid-20^th century, McDowell was one of the richest counties in the United States and was known as “the nation’s coal bin.” Immigrants flooded in from overseas and African Americans came from the South. The county’s population soared, but a combination of decreased demand for coal and mechanization of mining minimized the number of jobs.

In 1986, more than 1,200 jobs were lost with the closure of the US Steel mines in Gary. In the following year alone, personal income decreased dramatically by two-thirds. Due to a lack of diversity in the economy, miners were forced to abandon their homes in search of new beginnings in other regions of the state and country.

TR: This summer, you’re headed to McDowell to do your main shoot. What kind of stories do you want to uncover?

EM: The goal of Hollow is to work with the community to uncover the stories that they feel have a direct impact on their daily lives and future. We hope to bring to light the stories and issues that are important to them. We are asking them questions like, “What are the challenges of living here?” and “What do you want to see change in five years?”

Although we do not have expectations of what people will want to talk about, we anticipate people addressing population loss, unemployment, education, drug abuse, poverty and the environment, because those are the narratives that make headlines. On the other end of the spectrum, we look forward to highlighting the culture, history and arts of the county. Events such as outdoor plays, concerts, church celebrations and county fairs demonstrate the bonds that a community still maintains.

TR: In addition to shooting professional footage, you’re giving cameras to local folks and asking them to shoot some too. That’s unique and a little risky. What if all of the footage is of their cats and kids making silly faces?

EM: We will hold workshops where we train residents to use the cameras. We will sit down with them and discuss the story that they want to tell. We don’t anticipate people just shooting silly footage of their cats, because the project’s goals are very transparent to the community. The people who have volunteered to shoot understand that we are trying to reflect on the past, capture the present and gaze toward the future.

TR: In one of your clips, you mentioned other places that have gone belly up—the boarded up factories in Michigan and struggling farms in Iowa. What’s different about this West Virginia county. Why did it capture your attention?

EM: The issues in McDowell County can be seen across towns in the United States. Whether timber, farming, coal or manufacturing–when industry leaves a community it has a huge effect. With that said, McDowell County is quite unique and different in many ways. What captured my attention were three things:

1) The People: What really struck me was how open people were to talking to me. Tom Acosta, who was painting a beautiful mural downtown, talked to us for hours and allowed us to interview him on-camera and shoot him painting the mural. Then he referred us to Ed Shepherd, a man in his late 80s who has lived in McDowell County all his life. Shepherd cares so deeply about his roots that he refuses to leave, even if that means using part of his Social Security check to keep his business open. Shepherd gave me cucumbers and grape tomatoes he was growing in his parking lot, yes his parking lot. This is the resilience and determination of Southern West Virginians. I realized that there were so many stories there that needed to be told.

2) The Urgency. The demographer at WVU we are working with has compiled a list of “possibly dying” and “revived” towns in West Virginia. McDowell County’s 10 incorporated towns are all on the dying list; meaning they all have a negative growth rate and are losing people faster than they are gaining.

Tom Acosta, McDowell resident paints a mural, a sign of hope.

3) The Stereotypes. Google McDowell County, WV and what do you get? Drugs, coal mining and poverty. For some people these stereotypes are very true and a part of their daily lives, but I do not believe that these should be the only images that represent the 22,000 people of McDowell. It is time we allow them to create their own images of “home” and empower them to take control of these perceptions.

TR: In the below clip, McDowell resident Ed Shepard says, “Our beautiful rich city has become a damned ghost town. I don’t know of anything–unless the mines reopen–anything that would bring it back.” Do you think anything could bring McDowell back?

I don’t know what can bring McDowell County back, but I believe the residents do. It’s a matter of developing this community forum through interactive storytelling to reveal what can bring their towns back. Some residents tell me that tourism and the Hatfield and McCoy ATV trail will be the savior; some believe there needs to be a highway.

TR: How can Hollow help bring the residents’ visions for McDowell to life?

EM: This project’s success so far has been our transparency. This is not “our project”; it’s theirs. Hollow represents the community without labels, whether political, religious, or socio-economic. We believe that this will bring many ideas to the table that will then be taken to those in power. That’s the ultimate goal.

TR: I know this topic hits home for a lot of us. How can we watch your progress with the documentary and help out?

EM: We will be updating the Tumblr as well as the Facebook page and Twitter accounts. We need volunteers to help with workshops and advertising in the community to get people there. If people want to be put on the volunteer list, they can email me.

Also, our Kickstarter campaign needs some love. The money we raise there will pay for production fees and allow us to buy five cameras to give to the community. The cameras will be donated to the community after production to encourage them to continue storytelling.

Their band is called Little Black Train; the album is called Barn Dance; and they’re letting folks download the new tune “Old Black Dog” for free.

Give a listen. Let us know if it sets your toes to tappin.

Photo provided by Paul Houle.

Sniff. Smell that?

It’s like garlic and super-charged onions. It makes your mouth water and your nose run all at once. You’re on a springtime hike, and suddenly everything stinks. It’s a crazy smell, both awful and awfully wonderful at the same time. You can’t resist inhaling a big noseful. It’s like markers or gasoline fumes; you know you shouldn’t enjoy the odor but there you are, sniffing again. It’s irresistible.

You look around, trying to figure out what is putting off this beguiling scent. That’s when you spot stiff green sprouts sticking from the forest floor.

Ah-hah! You’ve got it. You’ve stumbled upon wild ramps.

Now you have to decide–do you run like you’re being chased by dogs or load up your backpack like you’ve found gold?

Photo Provided by Darya Pino.

(Hint: Backpack. Go with the backpack!)

These odiferous sprigs have been a culinary delight since native Americans ruled the region. Today, they are sought after by chefs nationwide.

Find them in the wild, and they don’t cost a penny but sure taste like a million bucks. A kind of leek, they’re a distinctive replacement for onions or their cousin the store-bought leek. You can fry them with potatoes, scramble them with eggs, add them to a casserole, or pickle them and enjoy them year round.

HOW TO FORAGE RAMPS

WHERE TO BUY RAMPS

Ramp Farm Specialties: This West Virginia company is the only ramp farm in the world.

Earthy Delights: This Michigan company claims to be “where great chefs buy” foraged foodstuff.

MOUTH WATERING RAMP RECIPES

Ramp and Buttermilk Biscuits: Mmmmm fancy biscuits.

Spring Ramps and Rainbow Trout: Love any recipe that tells me to have a mess of something.

Pickled Ramps: With commentary from Russian/New England/North Appalachian/New York blogger, Olga Massov.

Grilled Ramp and Asparagus Quiche: From Ms. Martha Stewart nonetheless!

APPALACHIAN RAMP FESTIVALS

Ramp Tramp Festival, Polk County, Tennessee: Bluegrass, crafts, and an optional tramp up the side of a mountain in search of ramps.

West Virginia Gazette: Lists more than a dozen events across The Mountain State.

Whitetop Mountain Ramp Festival, Whitetop, Virginia: Perhaps my favorite; this one culminates in a ramp eating contest at more than 5,000 feet.

Image provided by Kevin Harber.

Last week, Travel & Leisure listed Skyline Drive as one of America’s best springtime drives. This goes without saying for those of us who live nearby, but it’s always good to see it in print.

The magazine said, ”This route stretches through Shenandoah National Park, end-to-end, with the surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains and more than 1,300 species of plants. Warm weather brings purple and yellow violets; by May, pink azaleas appear throughout the forest, followed by white flowers of mountain laurel in early June.”

Sounds about right. I was just on Skyline Drive over the weekend. Up until about 2200 feet, everything is in bloom. The redbuds are glowing; white dogwoods lean over the road; and through any clearing you see a patchwork of pale green down on the valley floor.

Above that height, though, spring comes more slowly. The trees are bare and bitter gusts made me question whether I jumped the gun by wearing shorts. Still, my partner Ryan and I braved a hike along the eastern side of the mountains, and I’m glad of it. Winds were from the west, so we were buffered, and after a while, we got downright warm. About halfway into our four mile loop, we shed our jackets and walked in t-shirt sleeves under the bright April sun.

We were on the Rose River Trail. This short hike originates at the Fishers Gap Overlook (around mile marker 49). It starts out mild, on a wide and easy fire road, but soon the trail departs from the mountaintop’s narrow plateau. It turns to dirt then to rock and then it heads down…fast. Gravity tugged us along the mountainside. Like the falling water beside us, we scrambled over creekside boulders in a rush for the bottom.

The only thing that slowed my velocity was the urge to snap pictures. I’m a notorious shutterbug–the kind who will keep an entire group waiting while he shoots a barn door from eight angles and three different aperture settings. This weekend, I only slowed down one person, Ryan. He either welcomed the breaks or faked it well. He found a stump or a stone and sat patiently while I switched between my Nikon and my iPhone, between stills and video, between normal video and sepia-hipster video that looks like it was shot with an 8-mm camera. The man deserves a pie or something.

And you deserve some photos. Rather than tell you about every deer and twig we saw, I figured I’d show them to you. Below are some of my favorite images from the day. I hope they capture some fraction of the beauty found along this remarkable springtime drive.

[Show as slideshow]

Earl Scruggs in 2008. Image provided by James Bradbury.

Bill Monroe is called the father of bluegrass. There’s no disputing that. He founded the style and fostered it during its early years, but he didn’t shape it alone. Another man did just as much to define the fast playing, high energy sound that we know today. When Earl Scruggs hit the Nashville scene at age 21 with his earth shaking, three finger banjo picking style–something that had never been heard before–he made bluegrass hot.

He premiered as a member of Bill Monroe’s band on The Grand Old Opry in December 1945. In one electrifying performance, it was like he taught bluegrass to spin its tires, chase girls, and cuss all at once.

The show was broadcast on Nashville’s WSM 650, which had nationwide reach. From the Arizona desert to deep Blue Ridge hollers, people put down their whittling and knitting, socks they were darning, their magazines and listened in awe. This upstart was doing ungodly things on the banjo, playing as many as eleven notes per second, just shredding his strings and whipping up applause from the audience in Ryman Auditorium.

Playing beside Monroe, the father of bluegrass, Scruggs suddenly looked like the genre’s unruly uncle. He was showing his instrument how to do all kinds of crazy things.

This groundbreaking night launched a nearly seventy year career, which came to an end last Wednesday when Scruggs passed away in a Nashville hospital. I’m sure you read about it. Every daily newspaper in the country covered his death, but none have done a better job at covering his life than The Tennessean. It captured what other, bigger publications missed–the understated revolution that Scruggs led, not only in bluegrass, but in music at large. According to fellow bluegrass musician Marty Stuart, Scruggs melted walls between musical styles, but “he did it without saying three words.”

The Tennessean elaborates – ”During the long-hair/short-hair skirmishes of the ’60s and ’70s, he simply showed up and played, with Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and The Byrds. And when staunch fans of bluegrass — a genre that would not exist in a recognizable form without Mr. Scruggs’ banjo — railed against stylistic experimentation, Mr. Scruggs happily jammed away with sax player King Curtis, sitar virtuoso Ravi Shankar, piano man Elton John and anyone else whose music he fancied.”

Scruggs remained true to his bluegrass sound, but he knew that he could only expand his fan base by reaching beyond the Opry stage. Unlike many of his country music contemporaries, he played in places where he knew he’d find a new audience–college campuses, The Newport Jazz Festival, and even Carnegie Hall. It paid off. As the ambassador of bluegrass, he seeded interest in mountain music among urban sophisticates and roots reverent hippies.

Nashville wasn’t always happy about this cross-pollinating. According to The Tennessean, when Scruggs was asked about playing  with Baez, who was then viewed by many as “hyper-liberal and undesirable,” he replied, “Well, I didn’t look at it from a political view. And I thought Joan Baez had one of the best voices of anybody I’d ever heard sing.”

Baez wasn’t the only controversial woman in Scruggs’ life. His wife and manager, Louise Scruggs, mixed things up too. She was Nashville’s first female manager, and she was the one who pushed her husband to play outside traditional country venues. Acknowledging Louise’s influence, Scruggs once said, “She advanced me, and…helped shape music up as a business, instead of just people out picking and grinning.”

Scruggs is also credited with bringing the banjo back from the brink of oblivion. It’s tinny sound was considered old fashioned at best or, at worst, downright funny. By the 1940s, the banjo was more popular with comedy acts than serious musicians. Scruggs, of course, changed that. He was the instrument’s first virtuoso, and he laid the groundwork for what is approaching a century of banjo experimentation.

“I had no connection to the South, to bluegrass music or to the banjo, but that sound just changed me,” said Bella Fleck, who recently composed and performed a banjo concerto with a full orchestra. He first heard Scruggs play in the opening to the television show The Beverly Hillbillies, and says that Scruggs “took the banjo to where it became a major musical instrument in the world.”

Scruggs’ far reaching influence will be remembered by friends and fellow artists this afternoon during a Memorial Service at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium. Fittingly, this is the spot where he changed the face of music with his 1945 Opry performance. The service will even be broadcast on the same station that beamed that show into homes so many years ago–WSM 650.

If you can’t get the station on your AM dial, you can always listen online. Tune in at 2:00 CDT to hear memories of Scruggs and share your thoughts here.

Do you like listening to Scruggs? Did you learn to play the banjo because of him? Did you ever see him or meet him?

Help start a memorial of our own. Add a comment below.

Lounge at Blackberry Farm. Photo courtesy of Dieter Weinelt.

Thank heaven for Appalachia’s hillside cabins and backwoods B&Bs. I’ve spent many happy weekends on their creaky porches, gazing across working farms or tree covered parkland with flip-flops on my feet and a sweating glass of iced tea in my hand.

These everyday rentals are a regional mainstay and perfect for a moderately priced getaway. At some point, though, we all want to splurge. Maybe you’re celebrating an anniversary, a promotion, or a birth, or maybe you just love someone to pieces and want him or her to feel special. You need a luxury experience, and luckily, you don’t have to look far to find one.

Right in the Appalachians, we have world class resorts and hotels that merge the unsurpassed beauty of our mountains with first-rate amenities, like five-star dining, palatial grounds, and globally recognized design.

Here are my top hotels and resorts in the region. Some are stalwarts that harken back several centuries. Others are upstarts that take their cues from the locavore movement. Together, they remind us that you can have your mountains and a little pampering too.

I’m dying to hear about your favorites. Where do you go for upscale excursions?

Blackberry Farm: Walland, Tennessee

Blackberry Farm is a simple name. It could work equally well for a working farm or a company that makes jelly in small batches. It’s an unlikely name, however, for the number one resort in the Continental U.S. and Canada. Travel & Leisure bestowed this honor on Blackberry Farm last year, rating it higher than many older, better known competitors.

Blackberry Farm. Photo provided by Dieter Weinelt.

It’s easy to see why. It has 4200 pristine acres, a chef, a master gardener, a baker, a cheese maker, a forger, a butcher, a chocolatier, and a sommelier. In spite of all of that, Blackberry Farm remains down to earth. It serves dinner in a converted barn and tweets things you’d expect to hear from a neighbor down the road:

“Storm took out our phones last night. Send us a message, post here or email…if you need us!”

This blending of down-home and upscale works. In fact, it’s a very timely kind of elegance–the elegance of simple living.

There are no chaise lounges here. Guests relax on ladder-back rockers and many help in the garden during their stay. While the grounds are beautifully kept, this is a functioning farm, the kind of place where you can get dirt under your nails in the afternoon and have someone help you clean it out in the evening.

The Inn at Little Washington: Washington, Virginia

The Inn at Little Washington is steeped in history. It is the centerpiece of a village that dates to 1749 and boasts a street pattern laid out by George Washington.

The inn's kitchen. Photo provided by Wally Gobetz.

Though founded in the 1970s, the inn feels much older due to an inspired mix of antiques and new furnishings. It was decorated by British set designer Joyce Evans. Her flare for the sumptuous shines in every room and in quotes like this–”Never use one William Morris print in a room when five will do.”

More than its history or decor, The Inn at Little Washington is known for its food. Patrick O’Connell, the inn’s co-founder, likens every meal to a performance, full of surprises, subtle turns, and emotion.

His sensuous feasts and a twenty-five year commitment to local products have earned the restaurant a heap of accolades, including five-star ratings from Mobile Travel Guides and AAA.

When speaking of O’Connell, former Virginia Governor Mark Warner has said, ”Not since Thomas Jefferson first brought tomatoes to Virginia and the New World has one man created such interest in the culinary arts.”

The Greenbrier: White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia

The grand dame of mountain resorts, the Greenbrier opened it doors in 1778 and has hosted distinguished guests from around the world. The Washington Post says that its palatial white exterior “rears up like a Federal Reserve bank in the rough foothills of the Allegheny.”

A Greenbrier carriage. Photo courtesy of The Greenbrier.

While the building is in the mountains, there’s nothing country about it. From its soaring columns to its ten exquisit lobbies, The Greenbrier is the definition of elegance. It offers every amenity you can imagine and maybe even a few that you can’t.

In addition to the requisites–an 18 hole golf course, a world-class spa, and skeet shooting–you can learn falconry, go on a carriage ride, tour the resort’s legendary cold war bunker, shop at it’s twenty-nine onsite stores, dine at one of its thirteen eateries, or play games at what The New York Post calls “the most beautiful casino in the word.”

When you register at the Greenbrier, you gain access to a private village that celebrates its own storied past and meets your every need. Soon you’ll be able to get there in unsurpassed comfort. This summer, the Greenbrier Presidential Express will begin running rail service from DC’s Union Station to the resort.

The train’s vintage cars have been outfitted by Dorothy Draper, the renowned designer behind the resort’s signature interiors. According to an article in Washington Life Magazine, tickets will start at about $650 round trip and the excursion will feature valets and a wet bar in every car, a hotline to the resort’s concierge, and an onboard nurse should the overload of elegance give you palpitations during your six hour ride.

The Homestead: Hot Springs, Virginia

Across the border from the Greenbrier, you’ll find its predecessor in mountain gentility, the Homestead. This Virginia gem was established in 1766. It grew up around the area’s famed sulfur springs, which were popular with Native Americans for thousands of years before Europeans arrives. The springs’ medicinal properties have attracted a string of famous names.

The Homestead's Tower. Photo provided by Amber Karnes.

In the President’s Lounge, you can view portraits of the twenty-two U.S. Presidents who have visited the resort, starting with George Washington and running through Bill Clinton; if you’re a fellow, you can soak in the same historic pool house as Thomas Jefferson (ladies have a separate house); and you can learn this venerable resort’s full story by taking its signature history tour.

Today, The Homestead is emerging as a premiere spot for family vacations. It already has a family game center and The Homestead KidsClub, which offers supervised activities for children ages 3 to 12. This summer it will unveil an 18 hole mini-golf course and Allegheny Springs, a two acre water feature that includes three large water slides and a 400 foot manmade river bordered by sandy beaches, a gazebo, and impeccably designed sitting areas.

Keswick Hall: Charlottesville, Virginia

If only for a weekend, you can live like the New World gentry. At Keswick Hall, you’re invited to walk with the hounds, play a spirited round of croquet, and enjoy an Orvis-branded fly fishing excursion. What’s more, you’ll do it on the grounds of an 8000 square foot Italianate mansion.

Keswick Hall Entrance. Photo provided by Keith Jenkins.

Built as a private home in 1912, the house has passed hands many times. By the late 1940s, it had been converted into a country club, and later, it was deserted. It stood derelict with broken windows for many years. Referencing this period, a local author called it “Charlottesville’s pre-eminent haunted house.”

That’s far from the case today. After an astounding restoration and expansion, it is now a premiere hotel with an Arnold Palmer Signature 18-hole golf course and a luxurious spa. In 2011, it was named one of the “Number 1 Top Small Resorts in the Mainland USA” by Condé Nast Traveler.

If you visit Keswick Hall, be sure to pick up a copy of the new book The Story of Keswick Hall. It chronicles the manor’s history and will be the perfect accompaniment to afternoon tea in Villa Crawford, the original residence and heart of this grand estate.

Bonus Getaways

While these other first-rate destinations didn’t fit in the top five, they’re just too good to leave out entirely.

Grove Park Inn

Barnsley Gardens Resort

Hotel Roanoke

The Blennerhassett Hotel

Grand Bohemian Hotel