Jim Fee, a great banjo player and a good friend of mine, died this past Thursday, September 18. Jimmy, a Kentucky native transplanted to Orlando, Florida, had been fighting for his life for months, first in the hospital and then in rehab. He lost part of a leg to diabetes, was on dialysis many times, but finally succumbed to a staph infection. His devoted family—four children and his wife Loretta—was with him every step of the way. His daughter Becky (Becko) kept his many friends across the country apprised of what was happening with regular email posting to Care Pages. Thank you again for that, Becky.
Although Jimmy was not as well known to bluegrass fans as, say, Earl Scruggs, J.D. Crowe, and Sonny Osborne, he was certainly in their league as a picker. I got to know him when Red and I were living in Hawthorne, Florida, and Jimmy was playing with Chubby Anthony and Big Timber. I admired his playing immensely and tried to copy his banjo break on the song “Baby I’m Georgia Bound,” a song Jim recorded with Chubby. I devoted an entire Banjo Newsletter column to him in May 1984. It was called “The Wit and Wisdom of Jim Fee” and I included it in my book of collected BNL columns. (We plan to post the column in an upcoming blog.)
Jim was a down-to-earth fellow, a plain-spoken man, a guy who knew what he thought and would tell you flat out. But somehow he managed to do this with just the right touch so that it didn’t tick you off or make you fighting mad. Humor had a lot to do with it. He also cussed like a sailor, but somehow that too was never offensive. At least to me. It was just Jimmy.
I’ll never forget one thing Jim said to me about my banjo playing. Red and I had just played a set at the Otter Springs Bluegrass Festival in Florida. Jimmy was running the sound, so of course he had been listening to us. After we finished (and had done some selling at the record table) I went back to visit with him at the sound board. I don’t remember anymore how we got into talking about “Just Because,” one of the songs we had done. But I sure remember what Jimmy had to say about my banjo break. Red was singing the solo lead in the key of C. I, at the time much enamored of the capo, was playing the banjo capoed up at the fifth fret. (This was almost certainly because I didn’t know how to play very well in the key of C any other way, such as in the first position.) Jimmy called me on that with little preamble. “@#$%, Murph,” he said. “Why are you playing it capoed up so high? You’re losing all the sound. The sound is down there on the first frets.”
I can’t say I went right home and learned to play “Just Because” in the first position. But I do play it that way now. And Jimmy is right. That is where the sound is!
I am also proud to say that I string my banjo the same way Jim Fee strung his: with all the strings wrapped to the same side of the tuning peg. (To me it seems to be to the left side of the post.) That way, all the strings turn the same way. So when you play “Flint Hill Special” you don’t have to remember to turn the B string one way and the G string another way. Makes sense to me. Guess it made sense to Jimmy, too.
The Stanley Brothers recorded a great song that they probably learned from the Carter Family called “Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone.” As the title indicates, it asks the question, “Will you miss me when I’m gone?” I’m sure Jimmy knew and loved that song. And the answer is a resounding and heartfelt YES! We will miss you, Jimmy. We do miss you. I miss you. And I’m so glad you were a part of my life.
Wonderful tribute…I took guitar lessons as a teenager from a woman named Dallas Cline…she instilled my love of music…and banjo..I lost touch 30 years ago..and when I tried to track her down this year…to thank her ..I was too late..
She was very well known as a Dulcimer player…be sure to tell the people who are important..they are important TODAY !! this is NOT a dress rehersal..
That was very touching. I had the same thing happen that 5strings did…my high school band teacher, John Tall (JT to us students), cemented my love of music. He was quirky, serious, hillarious and stern all at once. He died way too young and before I had a chance to say thanks.
Thank you for these remembrances. A few years ago I was given a banjo and after a short search I found Jim who agreed to give me lessons. I was older than he was but that did not stop him from asking me, if I had not practiced adequately, “Do I need to take a switch to you?” I have not yet found another banjo teacher. I’m not sure I can. But I am sure of one thing; the world is a little sadder without the music of Jim Fee.