Eddie Adcock: When we first met, it was very early in our careers -- I was playing with Mac, and he hadn't gone with Jimmy yet. He sure was skinny!

Jimmy Martin: He only weighed about 105 lbs. soaking wet. On the radio, Smoky Ward called him 'Little Birdseed Crowe'. He was a little bit bigger than a bird on that banjo! He could whup it down.

Eddie Adcock: In the early days when there weren't many professional bluegrass musicians touring, a lot of them wouldn't even talk to each other. A lot of them didn't get along. J.D. and I always did.

Jimmy Martin: I rented a house. J.D. and Paul had their own room, and they kept it neat and clean, just like they liked to play music. We had a little tape recorder we paid $50 for, and we rehearsed many hours and sang harmony on it in J.D.'s bedroom, with Paul's mandolin. When we come to Nashville, all we had to do was just do like we did into that little tape recorder.

Tony Rice: He had almost everything to do with my rhythm guitar playing. I learned to play rhythm guitar from J.D. Crowe just by playing music with him. Early on, he would have his own way to show extremely intense disapproval at the way I was playing. I don't think it took all that long for me to be able to fall into what J.D. expected out of a guitar player to keep time for him, but it didn't happen overnight. If J.D. Crowe was expressionless, then you were doing it right. It might have taken a year before I could tell, since he wasn't giving me any weird dirty looks, that I was doing it right! [laughing] What's really ironic is that this is probably a mirror image of what J.D. Crowe went through at an early age, with Jimmy Martin.

Bobby Slone: He went through some hard times on the road when he was younger. When he got his own band, he wasn't gonna have it like that. I don't think he ever fired anybody. They'd just want to do something different. Everybody got along with him. It was one of the happiest times I've ever had with music, one of the highlights of my life. I was with him 25 or 26 years. It had to be good, or I wouldn't have been there that long.

Don Rigsby: Musically, it's the only place I've ever been where I left on the kind of terms, right off the bat, where everything was fine. When one of us would leave, if we treated him like a man, he was fine. You could walk up to him and it was just like you'd never left! It's the way the industry should be.

“I never really think about those things,” J.D. says of his induction into the Hall of Honor. “I guess it would mean I've done pretty well, as far as being a reputable musician, trying to treat people that work with me like they should be. It's not just in the music you play; it's what you do, down through the years.”

The bluegrass community responds to an invitation to contribute to this article with overwhelming enthusiasm. J.D. Crowe doesn't seem to have an enemy in the world. “Well, that's just me,” he says bashfully. If men can be measured by the world's willingness to say good things about them, then Crowe's an absolute giant.

The Doubleshot, Part I

J.D. Crowe might seem quiet, serious, a little reserved . . . but guys like Jimmy Gaudreau will tell you that he once loved a good prank, especially if it involved pyrotechnics and tobacco.

“It was J.D., Bobby Slone, Glenn Lawson and me,” says Jimmy. “We all were smokers--I've long since quit--and Crowe got hold of some cigarette loads and started sneaking them into our packs. Very funny--when it was someone else!”

The guys took to sleeping with their smokes under their pillows, but even then, it wasn't safe. “J.D. wasn't beyond waiting until you were asleep, then creeping into your room on his covert mission!”

J.D. himself was fond of little wood-tipped cigars called Have-a-Tampa Jewels. “Since he smoked cigars wrapped in cellophane that he kept in his banjo case, he thought he was safe,' recounts Jimmy. “Not so. This was war. . .”

FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME

For six full years, J.D. Crowe and the New South played the lounge at the Holiday Inn in Lexington, Kentucky. “Five nights a week, four 35-45 minute sets each night!” J.D. says. “That's a lot of music, boy.” A steady paycheck playing bluegrass! It was a miracle, and it allowed this extraordinary man and his cast of first-rate musicians to explore and define the next level of a musical tradition.

On the eve of their historic run at the hotel, J.D. and his band all had day jobs and played clubs two or three nights a week. “Then the owner of the Holiday Inn came to one of our performances. The club was so crowded he couldn't get in!”

Historically, the hotel had booked small acts playing what J.D. calls “Johnny Lounge-Music”. But the owner had seen the band's magic with his own eyes, and he wanted the New South. J.D. reluctantly agreed to a gig. The band debuted on a Thursday night, to a standing-room-only crowd. “We couldn't get 'em in! They just flipped over that.”

The ecstatic hotel manager proposed a one-year contract. “I said, 'Well, I can't do a day job and play five nights a week.' I did it for two weeks, and it was killin' me! I decided to go for broke.” J.D. quit his job at an industrial equipment warehouse and committed the band to work Tuesdays through Saturdays for seven or eight months each year, with breaks for festival season.

“That was a good training ground for bringing new musicians in, and training 'em, and rehearsing,” J.D. remembers. Local audiences packed the place; it was never less than three-fourths' full. Folks like Stephen Stills, Maria Muldaur, and Naomi Judd attended their performances. “It was a one-time deal!” he says. “We couldn't do it today. It was just the era.”

Alan Munde: I saw J.D. at the Holiday Inn in Lexington, KY in December 1968, with Red Allen, Doyle Lawson and Bobby Slone. It was a great band. I always felt J.D. was the model of excellence for banjo pickers. No matter what I played, I had my sense of his playing in my head--couldn't always get it into my fingers, but it was in my head. He had the crackle in his playing that is the best. I especially like his tone on Jimmy Martin's recording of "John Henry."

Béla Fleck: I remember hearing him play totally spontaneous solos on standard tunes countless times. I was always blown away. I used to go hear him at the Holiday Inn in Lexington when I lived there. He'd play six nights a week, four sets a night. I'd be there for most of 'em, so I got to know his playing very well. But we didn't really hang out. I was scared silly of him for some reason.

Tony Trischka: There was a time in the early 1970s [that] he didn't blow me away. In my non-discerning brain and ears, I was thinking, 'Well, he's a really good Scruggs player.' Then in '75 or so, the light bulb went on. I thought, 'Oh, my GOD! This guy's amazing.'

Laurie Lewis: The first time I heard J.D. play was in San Francisco in the mid-'70's, with Tony Rice, Jerry Douglas, Ricky Skaggs, and Bobby Slone. Wow! They were on their way to Japan. I don't believe I had previously understood that level of excellence was possible from a live show. I was smitten, and played my bootleg tapes of that show more than any other recording for the next year.

Steve Dilling: It was in 1978. I was living in Gastonia, NC, and my cousin Doug bought a copy of the highly acclaimed Rounder 0044 [also known as The Old Home Place]. When we put it on, my life changed forever. This recording influenced me as a banjo player more than any other. I still listen to it often.

Mike Cleveland: I got a cassette when I was real little, of an album called Bluegrass Holidays, with Red Allen, Doyle Lawson, and Bobby Slone. Man, that's some good grass! I was hooked. I was a J.D. Crowe fan. There was a good cut of “Little Girl of Mine From Tennessee”, and “Down Where The River Bends,” and of course, “Train 45,” and he just nailed it! There was no question at all.

Alison Brown: The first time I saw J.D. Crowe play, I was a teenager traveling around Eastern festivals with Stuart Duncan and his dad. Keith Whitley was playing in the New South then--what a fantastic band! I was really captivated by the elegance and drive in J.D.'s playing, and had to have a skinny leather banjo strap just like the one he was using. (In fact, I use it still.)

A few years later I met J.D. again after a show in Cambridge, MA. He was very encouraging and generous. In fact, he handed me his banjo without a second thought. I think about that often. In his spirit, I am always quick to let other players try out my banjo after a gig.

Gena Britt: I was a teenager. A friend of mine let me borrow their J.D. Crowe & The New South LP and I was floored. I couldn't believe how innovative he was. I had never heard anyone play backup like that.

Phil Leadbetter: My dad, John Leadbetter, brought the very first Crowe stuff I ever heard, the Old Home Place album. Dad was a banjo player, and just nuts over Crowe. He passed away in 1980. I always wished he could have seen me play with Crowe. It would have made him very proud.

A NATURAL THING

He's recorded with Tom T. Hall, Keith Whitley, David Grisman, Ricky Skaggs, and many others, but of all the collaborations he's done, J.D. Crowe says he's proudest of the recordings he made with the Bluegrass Album Band.

“All those guys used to work with me, so when we got together, it was like a natural thing. Like we'd played together forever. And it came off that way. You've gotta realize, a lot of the younger generations coming up, they'd never heard a lot of Flatt & Scruggs and all that. That's what we learned from. We did that [series] as a tribute to them and what we grew up on. And we played it our way.”

Ron Block: I was 16; had been playing the banjo for about three years. I bought The Bluegrass Album from County Sales. When it came in the mail, I stuck it on my turntable. I'd never heard such a powerful sound out of a banjo. It was the same reaction to J.D. as when I first heard Earl Scruggs: "Oh! That's how it's supposed to sound!" I went looking for as much of J.D.'s music as I could find.

Scott Vestal: I listened to his playing on live tapes with Tony Rice and Ricky Skaggs when I first started playing the banjo. I really studied his playing. I also remember when the Album Band started doing some dates. That was a very magical time, seeing J.D. with those guys doing all that traditional music. Timing is the most important thing you can have, I think, and J.D. is all about timing.

Tony Rice: The Bluegrass Album Band didn't start out as a band. It was gonna be a Tony Rice bluegrass album for Rounder Records. But when I got everybody assembled, J.D. and Doyle and Bobby Hicks and Todd Phillips, it occurred to me that we sounded more like a band than just another Tony Rice bluegrass album. It was just a matter of changing the concept midstream. I called J.D. to play banjo because I couldn't think of anybody else that could do it any better!

The Doubleshot, Part II

Time went by, and J.D. was up to his old tricks, finding every opportunity to sabotage his band's smokes, still hiding his own little cigars in his banjo case. One day, Jimmy figured out how to nail his devious boss.

“I bought a pack of his cigars and with my trusty little penknife, opened the cellophane, thus having complete access. I simply couldn't help myself. I'd already gone this far; I might never get a chance like this again . . . I stuck two of the biggest loads in the end, side by side. A tiny drop of Crazy Glue, a little pinch, and voila! It was impossible to tell it had been violated.”

That weekend the band appeared at a festival in Indiana. Before showtime, J.D. had to answer nature's call. He made a fatal error.

“Banjo case sitting there wide open--how lucky could I get?” Jimmy gleefully recounts. “Only ONE cigar was in the pack! It took a few seconds to exchange it for the one I'd been carrying around.”

When Crowe returned, the band took the stage. They were certain Crowe's routine would have him reaching for that cigar directly after the set. “Only this time, for some reason, he stuck it in his shirt pocket. Jimmy Martin was scheduled to go on next. He was standing nearby with fans when J.D. comes strolling out. My heart almost stopped when I saw him reach for the cigar in his pocket. . .”

J.D. AND ME

Jimmy Martin: J.D. was kindly a dozey guy. He could go to sleep just sittin' in the chair. He ain't like that on the banjer!

Paul would do the driving, and then we'd let J.D. have it. Paul would write out the routes. J.D. had problems keepin' on the route. One time, I was layin' in the backseat, and Paul was over on the side, and J.D. was drivin'. And J.D. said, 'Well, I'll be doggoned! This ain't it!' Paul would raise up and say, 'What's wrong, Little Red? Have you got us lost?'

Jimmy Gaudreau: J.D. and I share a love for 50s/60s rock & roll and rockabilly. We'd listen to Buddy Holly, Fats Domino, Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins or Jerry Lee Lewis as we drove down the road, though we did carry a decent amount of vintage Flatt & Scruggs tapes. The mix took us many, many miles.

There are many shiny nuggets in J.D.'s extensive collection of recorded music. He says he owns about 700 vinyl records, many that have never been opened. A few years ago, a friend in Louisiana died and left his music collection to J.D. “I drove down there and brought back a van full of CDs, 45s, live tapes, and I don't know how many 78s! Some of them are still in their original wrappers.”

A few items in his collection might surprise his fans. “The Byrds, the Flying Burrito Brothers, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Otis Redding, Little Richard, Ricky Nelson. Of course, Elvis. Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis . . . that's the stuff I like.” He loves old country, including Buck Owens, George Jones, Merle Haggard, and Lefty Frizzell, but he doesn't care for modern stuff. “Brad Paisley's good. I like Alan Jackson; he's one of the few that's doing country anymore. There's not many doing it. I always go back to Flatt & Scruggs!”

Steve Dilling: Milton Harkey was promoting the Bluegrass Album Band in 1983, and asked if I would like to go on this tour, an awesome experience for an 18-year-old. My first job was to go pick up J.D. Crowe, Tony Rice, and Todd Phillips at the Greenville, SC airport. Man, I was so excited! We picked J.D. up, and there was a 2½ hour wait till Tony and Todd arrived, so we went to the Red Lobster. There I was, across the table from my hero! To top it all off, he bought my lunch.

Phil Leadbetter: I got J.D hooked on watching Beavis and Butthead. It was really funny. He loved that show. We would be in a hotel room late at night and my phone would ring. It would be Crowe, doing a Beavis imitation, to tell me they were on TV. Two minutes later, he would be over at my room to watch it with me.

Mike Cleveland: His bass player came up to me at Bean Blossom, and said, 'Hey, you wanna play with J.D.?” Man! So I get up there, and I am a nervous wreck. If I'd had my way, I would've listened to all the records the day before! I knew a lot of his stuff from hearing it, but man . . . It was like all of a sudden one of Bill Monroe's guys says, 'Hey, you wanna play with Bill?'

Laurie Lewis: He played some concerts with the Masters of the Five-String Banjo tour. I was the hired fiddler, and Dudley Connell was the guitarist. Neither Dudley nor I had ever played with J.D., and we worked ourselves into a tizzy. But J.D. was relaxed and easygoing, happy we'd taken the time to learn his material. I've been lucky enough to play bass with him on a few occasions.

Tony Trischka: There was a magazine years ago called Banjo Soundsheet. It had little plastic soundsheets so you could hear what was going on with every tune. They taped J.D. in his living room, and also a show with the Bluegrass Album Band. They put a mic on J.D.'s mic so all you could hear was the banjo. I transcribed a few of the backups, and they're amazing: the next dimension in Scruggs-oriented backup, with J.D.'s personality.

Don Rigsby: One time, some of us were feeling our Cheerios pretty good. We were on our way back from a three-day weekend, talking about how good things were going. He put it all in perspective. He said, 'Boys, you might be the best band in the world, but you need to remember, the whole reason we're out here is this banjer!' He put a colorful metaphor in front of it. He was exactly right!

Eddie Adcock: Most people think of J.D. as being shy, reserved and even standoffish. He's really very friendly, even jolly. He's always been a good solid banjo player. He puts his heart and soul into getting the roll just right.

Béla Fleck: A few years ago Tony Trischka and I dropped in on him at his home. He whipped out his banjo and played “Lonesome Road Blues” at a high speed, and completely pulverized Tony and I. Then the banjo went in the case!

The Doubleshot, Pt. III

J.D carefully checked the cigar for pinholes. Finally, he unwrapped it and reached for his lighter, grinning with confidence. Jimmy managed to sneak a wink at Bobby and Glenn, his partners in crime. “Well, boys, here goes!” he snickered.

The load EXPLODED! It blew apart with enough force to split it in several directions. “Sparks flying, people screaming . . . it was GREAT!” says Jimmy. “I was on the ground laughing so hard my stomach hurt. Glenn and Bobby, also amused, were saying stuff like 'He's going to kill you' and 'You might as well start looking for a new gig immediately.'"

Crowe turned a bright shade of crimson. Jimmy Martin, whose expression never changed, just stood there, shaking his head.

LESSONS LEARNED

With time often comes temperance, and J.D.'s own style seems to reflect this. For one thing, the action on his banjo, once set so high it might have made other musicians weep, has been dropped a bit. “When I was starting out in the 50s and 60s, you didn't have the electronic equipment you've got now. You had to play hard. If you wanted to be heard, you had to crank it up.”

So far, the banjo player, who turns 67 on August 27th, has enjoyed good health. He says it's still pretty easy, physically, to strap on that banjo. “I'm probably not as agile as I used to be. I don't play a lot of things fast as I used to. Sometimes, I probably play things too fast! But I've kinda laid back a little.”

In January, he hosted the first JD Crowe Banjo Camp, held in northern California. It was definitely a departure, for he is not a comfortable teacher. “I don't normally do workshops. That's not my bag. I pick, I don't teach.” But Bill Evans and the other event planners talked him into it. “We had a ball! This was really a nice setup; it was very business-oriented and well-managed. I wouldn't want to do a lot of 'em, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Laurie Lewis: Hearing J.D. and the New South exposed me to an entirely new level of bandsmanship. I try to get some tiny bit of that into whatever group I'm playing in. It's a constant work in progress.

Ron Block: J.D. is a team player. The drive he pours into the band sound, the way he backs up others without drawing attention to himself, the space between his notes--all these characteristics have influenced me constantly through the years. I'm still trying to reach the unreachable standard he has set with his music.

Gena Britt: He has definitely been one of my major influences. I can't imagine a banjo player who wouldn't say that. I mean, he is Mr. Tone! I have listened to his banjo playing and baritone singing on the Bluegrass Album for years.

Béla Fleck: J.D. is a powerful influence for me. Much of it has to do with rhythmic power and tone. He's set a high water mark that few can approach, in terms of the art of playing the banjo. I often try to imagine what he would play, when I'm in a bluegrass setting. I think he's the real deal.

Don Rigsby: I've heard people talk about playing on top of the beat, the middle of the beat, the back of the beat . . . hogwash! There's only one beat, and you're in it, or not . . . and I wasn't! J.D. wasn't mean about it; he was just matter-of-fact. 'This is the way it is, and this is what I want.' He's a great communicator with his banjo.

Tony Rice: I'll say this about his approach: it worked. I'm sure other musicians that worked with him went through this, and they'll all tell you the same thing. Everybody that's had an extended-length stay in any of his bands has left knowing how to keep time. The ones that didn't probably are incapable of learning!

Mike Cleveland: He's just got that great big tone. He's got all this cool backup stuff that he does. It's not the same every time. And when you play a break, he'll put that five right in your ear! You'll just FEEL it. That's just the greatest thing.

Bobby Slone: His timing is perfect, and that made everybody real tight. A lot of banjo players--I'm not saying ALL of them, but especially when they're first starting out--the notes are really close together. It sounds muffled or something. But J.D.'s notes was always separated and clean, so much like Earl's.

Mark Schatz: From a groove point of view it was always great to play with him. He had all the tone and timing that makes a banjo a wonderful thing. He was generous with his energy onstage as well.

Tony Trischka: His timing is flawless. He took what Earl was doing and extended it. Not that it's better; it's just more rococo or baroque. Playing backup is much more difficult than the lead playing, in my opinion, and he does some very intricate up-the-neck things. The epitome of time, tone, and taste.

About 15 years ago, J.D. decided to retire from full-time touring. “We traveled an awful lot, down through the years. I was just tired of the people we had to deal with, tired of dealing with some of those promoters. The band wasn't as efficient as I would have liked . . . things really wasn't going well. I said well, the best thing to do is back off. I'm now playing 40 to 50 days a year. Oh, I love it!”

He says he enjoys playing as much as he ever did, and he still learns new things all the time. “You always learn! If you stop, you go downhill.” Most recently, he's been learning new material for the CD he hopes to release on Rounder this year. “Well, I tell you what . . . I'm way behind on CDs!” he admits sheepishly. “Probably two or three years behind, actually. I just don't get in any hurry.” A few seconds later, seemingly frustrated, he comes back to the subject. “I really am behind on my CD things. I hate that. You have changes in personnel, and that holds you up. You just have to roll with the punches.

“Some people put two albums out a year! I don't want to do that. I'm not gonna do that. Now, I know I should probably put out more than I have, but I'd rather have a little less, than overdo it.”

The Doubleshot, Pt. IV:

Jimmy thought he'd never hear the end of it. “Eventually, J.D. managed to calm down, and I did get a congratulatory nod out of him for coming up with such an ingenious plan. The best thing that happened was that we called a truce. It lasted a while, till he just couldn't help himself and it was back to Spy Vs. Spy. Oh, how we loved to amuse ourselves!”

When Jimmy went to work with the New South in 1975, he'd already played with the Country Gentlemen, IInd Generation and Country Store, with banjoists like Eddie Adcock, Bill Emerson, and Dick Smith. “I thought I could handle anything. Wrong! When J.D. was feeling his oats, he could burn something so quick you wished you were somewhere else when it came time for your break.” Jimmy was forced to practice like crazy. “I may not have been able to play everything as clean as I hoped, but at least I wasn't living in fear when he'd look over and grin before kicking off some banjo tune at violent speed. Probably his way of paying me back for the aforementioned cigar fiasco!”

ICING ON THE CAKE

J.D. Crowe will talk about almost anything with at least some degree of comfort, but when the subject of his private life comes up, his quiet voice gets even lower. This is not a world he cares to share. “Well . . . I usually keep family kinda private, out of the limelight. I've got two children. My daughter's 21; my son David's 24. He goes with me to shows, sells CDs. I took him to California and he had a ball. I've been out there three or four times, so I showed him a lot of places.”

J.D. lives in Kentucky, and pursues a variety of hobbies that would satisfy most gentlemen. “I like fooling with muscle cars, and I've got a couple of them. I do a lot of shooting,” he says, his voice almost dropping to a whisper. “I go to indoor ranges.” He loves golf, though he refuses, laughing, to talk about his handicap. “It's not good, put it that way!” He belongs to a sportsman's club for hunters and fishermen, though he doesn't get there as often as he'd like. “I do what I've gotta do around the house, mowing the yard and all that honey-do stuff. The week's gone, and it's time for me to go play again!”

Is he happy? “Yep!” he answers without a bit of hesitation. “You make your own bed, that's the thing.” His “bed” is pretty comfortable, he says. “It could always be more comfortable, but I'm very well satisfied. I've accomplished more than I thought I ever would. But winning the Hall of Honor thing . . . I don't play music for awards. I play it because I love it! If things come along, that's just a little icing on the cake.”

Tony Rice: I owe more of my career to him than he could possibly realize, and the things I learned from him are things I'll always have. I'll carry on the general musicianship I learned from him. I can't thank him enough for that. I think he deserves more thanks than he gets, not only from myself, but from the other musicians he's influenced.

Jimmy Martin: Old J.D.'s got his name now on a Gibson banjer. I asked him not too long ago, 'J.D., how about all that rehearsing I used to put you-all through?' He said, 'I thought it was hell!' I said, 'Son, it's been worth it. You got your damn name on a Gibson banjer!'

I seen J.D. Crowe, and I said, 'Just listen to that there boy come on!' Boy, you could hear him! He wasn't doin' nothing but rattlin' the dog. I just stood there and admired him. And I've got news for you. I'm in heaven onstage when I'm with him. If I can get rid of this cancer, and travel, I'll be seeing him at lots of shows.

Let me end by saying this: J.D., I love you, and I hope you the greatest of everything you try to do in this world.