History of the Festival of the Bluegrass
Jean and I had no idea what we were getting into when we started the Festival of the Bluegrass (the first Festival was in 1974, June). We like to listen to bluegrass – J.D. Crowe and his buddies got us hooked while they were playing at Martins, a little joint in North Lexington – but we were no more than uninformed listeners. We went to a few festivals and, although we enjoyed the music, we didn’t like the amenities – too many overflowing toilets, too much trash and the like.
Starting a festival would not have occurred to us except for a real estate transaction: the state of Kentucky bought a beautiful farm which was to be developed as a horse-oriented state park. That farm happened to be right across the road from where I was working at the time, and I found myself thinking about that beautiful place – I occasionally walked across the road to look at it. Finally I popped the question to a state government official: “How would you folks like to have a bluegrass music festival on your farm?” It wasn’t long after that until we had a deal: I would rent one of their large pastures, one with lots of trees, and we would have at it.
Jean was not especially happy about all this. She had learned, over the 22 years we had been married that she would end up doing most of the work. She went along, however, especially after we talked with Raymond McLain, patriarch of the McLain Family Band. Raymond encouraged us – it was him who suggested that, since we’re in the heart of where the blue grass grows, we should use the name “Festival of the Bluegrass”.
We hired the bands, did some advertising, borrowed a farm wagon for the stage, and confidentially waited for the customers to come in. They did come, and so did the rain. The very first night of the very first Festival brought the most severe thunderstorm we’ve ever had during a Festival. We didn’t have sense enough to close down during the storm. The fans gathered around the stage, they covered themselves with a big tarp, and the bands played right on, rain and all (without a sound system).
Then came Saturday and it was a gorgeous day. The crowd was as big as could reasonably be expected for a first festival (we expected more, but that’s because we didn’t know what we’re doing). And everybody went home happy.
We soon received the bad news from the state: construction was to start and we would be in the way; there couldn’t be another festival on that property for at least two years. We considered quitting, but the fans wouldn’t let us quit; they drafted us to continue, somewhere.
Looking back, I now realize that our setback that first year provided a lesson that has been the key to our Festival’s long-term success. Because it was the fans who saved the Festival, we understood that the Festival of the Bluegrass belongs to the fans more than to us. I don’t think Jean or I have ever forgotten that lesson, and I don’t think our family will forget the lesson after Jean and I are no longer involved.
We found an excellent location for the Festival, Masterson Station Park, which is a city park in the western part of Lexington. The Lexington parks people were excellent to work with, the fans were pleased, and the Festival gradually grew. It was amazing to watch several hundred campers lined up waiting to get into the park, then move like a western land rush to create a sizable town within just a few minutes.
All was well until more and more of the campers wanted more and more electricity. It got to the point that we had temporary electric lines running pell mell all over the ground, and the fire marshal didn’t like it. We finally had to accept the fact that the Festival could not continue at Masterson. The 19898 Festival was the last one at Masterson.
The Horse Park construction was long since finished, including a large and beautiful campground. We talked with Horse Park officials about renting the campground for the Festival and they were game. As I should have anticipated but didn’t, the move upset many of the campers: the town the campers had created each year at Masterson could not be replicated at the Horse Park, which had its own well-established routines. (I failed to anticipate the damage that the move might cause to the campers sense of community; I regret my lack of foresight.) There was some friction with the Horse Park, and a sizable number of campers quit coming to the Festival; the decline in attendance (and in revenue) put the Festival in danger for awhile. But the decline in attendance has long since reversed – the Festival has shown gradual growth for a number of years now – and the relationship between the Festival and the Horse Park is excellent.
I am proudest of our Festival for the work we’ve done at involving young people. That work, too, was inspired by fans, including some remarkable educators who have used bluegrass music as a way to connect young people with the real life around them. As we learned from the Wise Village Pickers, which was a large group of children – there were as many as sixty of them at a time – from Stanton Elementary School in Powell County, Kentucky, learning bluegrass music, and learning it from grandparents and other adults in their communities, is a highly valuable way to learn about life; young bluegrass pickers are active participants in life (not mere spectators), and that’s the way things are supposed to be.
I like to believe that our Festival, especially our music camp, has demonstrated that bluegrass music can make important contributions to education generally. The International Bluegrass Music Association (IBMA) gave our Festival its award as “Event of the Year” – this was at the 2007 IBMA convention – and I feel pretty sure that our work with education was a big reason why we were given the award. We’re proud of the honor and we’re proud of what bluegrass can do for education.
I look forward to the next 35 years.
Bob Cornett
