40 years of Bluegrass

Local reflections and recollections of the iconic festival
by Chris Aaland

Just as the Carter Family sang in “Will the Circle Be Unbroken,” the musical cycle has continued for four decades in the box canyon formed by the San Miguel River – a gathering that owes less to the music forged by Bill Monroe than the counterculture of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Throughout the history of the Telluride Bluegrass Festival, which turns 40 this week (June 20-23), Durango has played an integral role in the event. Marked by births and deaths, marriages and divorces, and trial and error, the festival’s legacy has remained intact.
Megan Amanda Lynn (“mandolin”) and Taggart Shellman, members of Telluride Bluegrass’ early “sound crew,” backstage at a festival. Their parents, Marikay and Fred, were responsible for spearheading the first “Telluride Bluegrass and Country Festival” in 1978. The Shellmans played an integral role for the first decade. Fred eventually sold his shares./Courtesy photo

On July 6, 1974, Telluride band Fall Creek – which included future La Plata County resident Fred Shellman – hosted its first-ever Telluride Bluegrass & Country Festival as part of that town’s annual Fourth of July celebration. Started in 1899, Telluride’s Independence Day was a chance for miners, ranchers and other rough and tumble types to gather for drunken revelry. Fast forward a few decades after the mines had shut down – the early ’70s – and Telluride’s Fourth of July had evolved into an all-out psychedelic hippie bash. A music festival was in short order.

The initial lineup featured Fall Creek, the Black Canyon Gang and the Denver Bluegrass Band. Billed as “Old-Fashioned Family Fun,” it cost just $2 per person and $5 for families, and started at noon and ended before sundown.

A year later, Telluride Bluegrass warranted its own weekend as a two-day event. New Grass Revival (Sam Bush, John Cowan, Curtis Burch and Courtney Johnson at the time) and the Ophelia String Band (Tim O’Brien, Washboard Chaz and Pastor Mustard) cemented the reputation, and the crowd grew from a couple hundred to 3,000. The rest is history.

Fred’s wife, Marikay Shellman, was a key player in the festival’s first decade. She nearly missed the inaugural one because she was nine months pregnant. “The first festival was July 6, and I was hauling water and lemonade and making sandwiches for all of those guys,” she said. “I went into labor on July 11 at the John Prine concert at the Sheridan Opera House.”

A day later, the Shellmans’ first child, Megan Amanda Lynn Shellman – whose middle names were inspired by Bush’s mandolin playing – was born.

“It was just those few local bands and not much of a stage,” Shellman said of the plywood and wood pallet platform. “We lived in Ophir, and I brought water and bought some apples, bananas and oranges at Rose’s Market when it was a hole in the wall.”

The festival’s worldly line of concessions and souvenirs took form immediately, as the extended Shellman family peddled its own macramé as well as blankets from Guatemala.

In October 1976, the Shellman clan moved from Ophir to a ranch between Bayfield and Ignacio. “I remember the car filled with little kids and going to Safeway (in Durango) and loading up the back with produce and hauling it up there to this cabin with my family,” Shellman said.

She continued to coordinate backstage hospitality for a decade before she and Fred divorced in 1983.

The Shellmans operated out of their La Plata County home, but as the festival grew – it eclipsed 7,500 attendees in 1977 – it required more organizers.
Travis Book, around the time he was introduced to Telluride Bluegrass./Courtesy Kay Book

“Slowly, Fred started having to get other people in,” said Shellman. “Eighty-three was the last year I did the backstage food. Fred, because he kept selling these interests (in the festival), got out in ’89.”

Enter Lyons-based Planet Bluegrass, which also presents such events as RockyGrass and the Folks Festival. Led by Craig Ferguson, Telluride Bluegrass evolved into what many call the greatest festival in the country.

Durango musicians have also played a part in the on-stage evolution. Blue Moon Ramblers banjo player George Usinowicz was an early member of Fall Creek. The Badly Bent and the Broke Mountain Bluegrass Band waged a generational battle on the Fred Shellman Stage in the 2005. And Travis Book and Anders Beck – former Durango residents and Broke Mountain founders – now are festival regulars as members of the Infamous Stringdusters and Greensky Bluegrass, respectively.

“My first Telluride I was probably about a year old,” said the bass-slapping, sweet-voiced Book. “My parents took me, and they were visiting from Kansas at the time,” he said. “The first one under my own power would have probably been 2003. I think it was right when we were first doing the Broke Mountain thing. My guess is that I couldn’t afford a ticket, so I was probably semi-legally camped in someone’s yard and we were just all hanging out, picking, sneaking into the campground at night and doing the Elk’s Park thing.”

This year marks the Infamous Stringdusters’ third appearance at Bluegrass. “The Telluride Bluegrass Festival has effectively turned the San Juan Mountains into a little bluegrass hub,” he said. “I think it’s largely because of Telluride … and the Durango Meltdown, too. You just don’t get that opportunity everywhere.”

The dobro-playing Beck, who first began attending as a fan in 2001 and had his first official main stage set with Durango’s Wayword Sons in 2006, continued where Book left off. 2013 marks Greensky’s fourth trip to the festival.

“I was a fledgling bluegrass musician, just getting into it and still playing acoustic guitar terribly,” said Beck. “It wasn’t until 2002 when I saw a dobro workshop by Jerry Douglas, Sally Van Meter and Randy Kohrs … that’s when I realized that I needed to start4  playing the dobro. I literally stumbled upon that dobro workshop and it changed my life.”

The festival also gave musicians a place to not only pick all night, but a chance to do it close to home. “It was just really a source for inspiration knowing that once a year you could go spend anywhere from a weekend to a week-and-a-half in Telluride and just get your musical soul fueled up,” Beck said. “Being that it’s sort of an oral tradition of music, you learn by listening and watching.”

Though each lived in the San Juans for lengthy periods of time, Book and Beck agree that something magical happens when musicians take the Shellman Stage. “With Telluride, it’s the history and it’s the mystique,”  said Book. “It’s a magical spot. It’s rare that you get to places that beautiful. Imagine Mumford and Sons, growing up in foggy old England and crawling off the bus in Telluride.”

However, it isn’t just that amazing view of the mountains, but the way the overall vibe that make sit so special. “The experience, from a fan perspective, goes along with the history,” Book added. “That festival started back when there were a lot of other bluegrass festivals ... that were these stodgy, Southern things. Here’s this giant hippie party out way back in the mountains.”

“On some level, it just feels like home,” said Beck. “I spent a lot of time in the audience before I dreamed of playing there. I thought the best view in the world was from the crowd and it turns out I was wrong. The best view in the world is from the stage.”  

All parties agree that Telluride has morphed from a bluegrass festival into one that incorporates all genres of music.

“One year ... everyone was playing ‘Orange Blossom Special,” said Shellman. “I said, ‘You guys aren’t getting fed if you play that song again. And we need women onstage!’ I will take credit for the diversity out of protest.”

Through the years, newgrass jam-bands have sprung up – mostly in the Rockies – that are forever indebted to Telluride. Hot Rize first played there in 1977; the Left Hand String Band in ‘90. Others followed: the String Cheese Incident in ‘94; Leftover Salmon in ‘95; and Yonder Mountain String Band in 2000.
Author Chris and the-now Shelly Aaland during the summer of love./Courtesy Photo
 

“Telluride comes around and you can see the best acoustic players in the entire world, especially that Sam Bush/Béla Fleck/Jerry Douglas generation,” said Book. “Not since the Stanley Brothers, Flatt & Scruggs and Bill Monroe has there been a group of bluegrass musicians that defines a sound and an approach like they do.”

Does Shellman, who has missed only a couple of festivals in its 40-year run, have a favorite memory? In the early years, there was a backstage tent for musicians to warm up, with lots of children running around. “I remember Megan crawling up into Doc Watson’s lap and him saying, ‘Come on here little girl.’”

Though Watson may be gone – along with festival alumni Monroe, Scruggs, John Hartford, Charles Sawtelle (of Hot Rize), Mark Vann (Leftover Salmon) and crazy Dancing Pat (just look up ‘Dancing Hippie Telluride’ on YouTube) – the circle, indeed, remains unbroken.

“Fred called it his baby, and it really was,” said Shellman. “If he were alive today, he would just be so proud. It’s just such a beautiful, amazing thing. We go back every year. It’s our family reunion. My daughter’s husband proposed to her during Sam Bush’s set 11 years ago. (Spoiler alert!) “My nephew is going to propose to (his girlfriend) on Friday night at the festival.”

Chris Aaland’s family immigrated to Telluride in the late 1800s. His family stretches back seven generations in the San Juan Mountains. This year marks his 17th straight year at Telluride Bluegrass. He and his wife, Shelly, consider the 1997 festival to be one of their first dates.
 

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