Sedalia, MO Scott Joplin Festival, Day 3

Day three of the Scott Joplin Festival took us out of the world of ragtime and to the 1920’s retreat of a rich Missouri lawyer and businessman John Homer Bothwell. He arrived in Sedalia, MO in 1871 where he set up a practice and married Hattie Jaynes, the sister of his partner, but his bliss would not last. Two years after they married, Hattie died due to complications shortly after giving birth to a stillborn daughter. Bothwell would never remarry and go to his grave childless. Instead, he entered politics, serving four terms in the Missouri state legislature and making an unsuccessful run for the governor’s office. It would be his position as president of the West St. Louis Water and Light Company that would make his fortune, though and he stayed with the company until 1926.

Beginning in 1897, Bothwell set to work on a retreat – a place where he could escape the hustle and stress of business and fade into nature which he loved. He was known to wander the roads and trails, sometimes being mistaken as a hitch hiker by motorists. In 1928 Bothwell Lodge was completed and it became his full time home. Like the man whose name our hotel bears, we vacated Sedalia for the countryside

For us, with the benefit of a modern highway and car, it was barely was a fifteen minute jaunt from town to Bothwell’s getaway. We headed out before the town really woke up and were under the boughs of the forest before the first piano ivory had been tickled. This part of the state is rolling and rocky, with bluffs and cliffs here and there. Bothwell Lodge sits at the edge of one of these cliffs, a house that seems to spring from the Missouri limestone. We spent most of the morning walking the grounds, taking in the sights and taking photographs.

The Lodge is a model of the man who built it; an eclectic jumble of parts that go together even though they don’t seem like they should. Bothwell started out with a small, one room cabin, but when he found that guests were always vying for space he expanded, adding a tower, office, and several guest bedrooms and connecting the house itself to a cave system as a form of improvised air conditioning. He had a library with thousands of books covering subjects from religion, business, and politics to woodworking, book collecting, and novels. He travelled the world, supported charity, helped to build a local hospital, donated to local school children, and generally was an upstanding citizen.

At the age of 70, Bothwell died from Bright’s disease, spending his waning days in a hospital bed that had been moved to the lodge’s sleeping porch. He would have heard the birds singing and maybe an errant bee from the hive he kept in the wall of the upstairs office and his last breaths would have been perfumed with the scent of the woods on the late summer breeze.

Sedalia MO Scott Joplin Ragtime Festival: Day 2

Day two of the Sedalia Scott Joplin Ragtime Festival has come and gone and, as with most day twos, some of the glow wears off and you begin to discover little irritations. Our room at the Bothwell is a wonderful example of the expectations of the 20’s traveler, but it’s also a reminder I’m not a 20’s traveler. For one, the bed has proven to be the equivalent of sleeping on one of those bags stuntmen fall into when diving from the top of a building. For travel-weary, aching backs it’s less than ideal. So, today my post will be short, since I’m nearly falling asleep on the keyboard, I just hope the lousy internet connection uploads this in less than an hour.

This morning we went to a seminar entitled The Ragtime Life where ragtime master Max Morath. Max may be familiar, he’s been banging the ivories longer than I’ve been alive and worked with the great Eubie Blake, wrote and starred in the PBS American Experience series, and if none of that rings any bells he did play piano on one show of someone you might know – one Captain Kangaroo. His description of what it meant to be there when ragtime went from being “old timey music” nobody listened to, to the soundtrack of The Sting was really eye opening. I thought being a musician was something that just happened, an outgrowth of being really talented and driven, but there is a lot of compromise and plenty of trials along the way.

Next I got to watch Kelly and Bob interviewed about their experience at the first Joplin-fest back in 1974. Nice playing paparazzi for that event, it was fun to listen to both of them talk through their part at the beginning of this festival.

Well, now it’s off to bed. Tomorrow is our day away from seminars. We’re heading to Bothwell Lodge for a tour of the mansion and a little hiking to compensate for the cookies and barbecue we’ve been indulging in over this week.

Welcome to Scott Joplin's Missouri

Today I’m writing from Hotel Bothwell in Sedalia, MO – Queen of the Prairie and one-time home of ragtime genius Scott Joplin. For my dear Kelly, this is a trip down memory lane. Her parents have been ragtime enthusiasts for decades and they brought her to Sedalia as a child to attend the annual Scott Joplin Ragtime Festival. For me, on the other hand, it’s another first and further proof that the proverbial old dog can, in fact, learn a trick or two, new or otherwise. I knew I liked Joplin the first time I saw The Sting and heard Easy Winners, Solace, and The Entertainer. Thirty-some years have passed and I’m still discovering things I love about the culture, music, and fashion of the ragtime era. So, when Kelly suggested we travel to Sedalia for what might be one last Joplin Festival with her parents, there was no way I could say “no”.

We set off from Indy this morning at an hour that really doesn’t qualify as early, rolling out of town around seven o’clock and clearing the city before rush hour was over in the company of rain. The trip west, at least across the planes of Illinois was uneventful in spite of Google Maps best efforts to convince us Sedalia, MO is located in Tennessee. We eventually sorted out our route and arrived at Hotel Bothwell by four o’clock, only shortly before the streets were taken in for the evening.

The Bothwell opened in 1927, a classy seven story hotel in a small town with all the modern conveniences and, supposedly, it’s haunted…so we may be sharing our room. That remains to be seen. What I can say is staying in a room from the 20’s puts you in touch with just how overboard our expectations and addiction to gadgetry has gotten in our modern age. It’s a room that a queen-sized bed makes feel crowded. Back when the hotel opened the average traveler would have one, maybe two bags relying on the in-house laundry service to keep him in clothes, they would have slept on a twin bed, and had no computer or cell phone to plug in to the wall…in fact, phones were in the lobby or in wall sconces in the hallways.

I killed a little time walking around the town square, taking in the sights around the courthouse and trying to imagine what the town must have looked like in Joplin’s day. He’d played the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893, but by 1894 he was living in a tiny Midwestern town that couldn’t offer him the professional opportunities he would have in the big city. Now the courtyard has a memorial to the soldiers who took part in World Ward I, a statue of a dough boy with bayonet and grenade, a war that didn't end until after Joplin's death. Now there's a Howitzer from World War II and boots and a M16 from Vietnam. All around the courthouse were the relics of war, yet nothing of the man who helped create a style of music that's influenced everything from bluegrass and country to rock and rap.

Afternoon turned to evening and we rested from the long drive for a while and then walked a block to the Liberty Theater for the night’s concert and heard some of the best ragtime pianists around; listened to tunes like Easy Winners, Black Lightning Cakewalk, and American Beauty; and generally had a great time. Tomorrow, dancing and ragtime dance lessons, more music, and more pictures.