"Come on, Mr Nordyke," one of the younger women urged, "why don't you play for us."

Dad had a knack for getting people in the mood for his music. Knowing of the scattered prejudice against the fiddle, he eased into a song titled Gloryland. It was a church song with church tones, but it was fairly fast with some good runs. He shifted from Gloryland to The Bonnie Blue Flag, a Confederate war song, which created a big stir—foot stamping, hand clapping and a few rebel yells.

Will Bowen, apparently having forgotten Halley's Comet, shouted, "How about giving us Sally Goodin?" Dad played the old breakdown with vigor. Several men jumped up and jigged around. Children gathered around and gazed wide-eyed at the performance.

All our neighbors went home whistling or humming. Very few remembered to look toward the northwest to see whether the comet and its wicked tail were still around...

One evening, Will Bowen called dad on the telephone and said, "Charley, I'm downhearted and blue. Every time a square forms, there are four boll weevils waiting there to puncture it with their snouts. Just wondered if you could play a tune or two for me?"

"I sure could, Will," Dad said. "Could you come over?"

"No. I mean play on the phone box."

"The phone box?"

"Sure," Mr Bowen said. "I can hear you talk. Why couldn't I hear the fiddle?"

Dad took the fiddle to the telephone and thumped the strings. Putting the receiver to his ear, he said, "Hear anything. Will?"

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