Ralph Stanley at Town Hall, New York City, 2005
Photo by Frank Beacham
Ralph Stanley: A Personal Remembrance
Ralph Stanley died six years ago today. He was always the real thing. When he sang “Oh Death,” it hit you in the gut like a big rock. When he said he believed in his music, you knew he deeply meant it.
Stanley was one of America’s defining bluegrass artists — a man known far and wide for his distinctive singing and banjo playing. He began performing professionally in 1946, before I was born, originally with his brother, Carter, as part of the Stanley Brothers, and later as the leader of his band, the Clinch Mountain Boys.
He was the last of a breed of first generation bluegrass stars, up there with the likes of Bill Monroe and Earl Scruggs.
Stanley was born, grew up and lived in rural Southwest Virginia. He learned to play the banjo — clawhammer style — from his mother. She had 11 brothers and sisters, and all of them could play the five-string banjo.
From the time I was a little kid, I loved the music of the Stanley Brothers. I saw Ralph in concert dozens of times. I interviewed him once, wanting to know if he had ever played with any black musicians. He said “no,” at least not publicly. He was tight with information, not going to reveal any secrets about an obvious black influence on bluegrass music.
He was more open, however, when he wanted to sell you something. I have a signed, homemade CD he made of his early music with the Stanley Brothers. He said it could only be bought from him personally and every copy was personally signed.
He even tried to sell me one of the banjos he played, something he did after every show. Back then, he wanted $5,000 for it. Now, looking back, it was probably a good deal!
RIP, Ralph. You were definitely one of a kind.