08/06/2026
ODE TO THE PICKER
I like telling stories, so I hope you will indulge me as I post this ode highlighting influencers along my Ozark Music journey.
Undeniably there have always been musical talent in and around Pulaski County. In fact, there’s a mecca of talent all across the Ozarks. Someone should write a book and capture the history of all the fabulous musicians who have traversed these hills. There surely is something special in our spring fed river water.
The resonating sound of hill music has been present ever since the first wagons crossed the Big Piney. Then later we drew attention when a TV spotlight was cast on the Ozark Jubilee. Through the generations, musicians of all kinds have come and gone. They may have been family or neighbors, or you may not know their names, but they were here. They were at the Sunday go-to-church meetings and Saturday night barn dances. They were in the dimly lit backroad honkytonks and glittery neon dance halls. They stood atop flatbed trailers for bootcamp soldiers and sat perched on stacks of hay bales at our county fairs. On any given night the sound of a guitar, banjo or fiddle might be resounding through the Ozark air.
Upon inspection, most have been self-taught, picking up skills however we could. If you were lucky, you could learn from an older family member or an elder around town. A few actually learned music in their school years, but many of us were already regaling our family with tormenting sounds before we even started school. Eventually, we found our way out from in front of our bedroom mirrors to seek others like us.
In my own little Ozark community, there have been and are many great homegrown troubadours. We have also been a destination for many others. Musicians from all over came to play in our county. I’ve known players from St Louis, Kansas City and Springfield and as far away as California packing instrument cases and renting motel rooms just for a gig in one of the many surrounding live music houses, juke joints or on the post. Speaking on behalf of those who are part of this Ozark melodic legacy we clearly owe a debt of gratitude everyone who stood before us.
This is where I am choosing to begin a personal story. I would like to pay my long overdue respect to one fellow Pulaski countian, for whom I am grateful.
I don’t recall how or where we first met, but the experience of watching him play is indelible. He was a quiet, peaceful presence on stage. He stood with a slight tilt to the right with is sunburst Les Paul slung low. There was never any theatrics or antics, just a look of transcendental euphoria on his face as his fingers moved effortlessly across the neck of his guitar. I knew I was watching someone with a very special gift.
If you were in your 20’s in the early 70's you may remember, a local band in town (Waynesville) loaded with talent. The cast included Greg Calloway, Billy Bennett, David Graves, Romeo Bonifacio, Denny Luttrell and Don Thomson. You might have seen them at The Embers Lounge or perhaps at the Lake on the Larry Don. They were playing the hits of the day and nailing it.
These were prime time home-grown players. Each in their own right were quite talented, but I was particularly drawn to the guitar work of Don Thomson. Don was a local from Iberia and a couple years older than me. As an audience member watching him with his signature long curly hair, he looked like a young Jimmy Page and sounded every bit the part. It was both humbling and motivating to observe his virtuosity. I was entranced by his ability to play these songs note for note, chord for chord with such finesse and perfection. He possessed an obvious natural skill which I struggled to achieve. I was maybe 18 with an intense passion for playing guitar and I was OK, but he was really good!
I seized the opportunity to get to know Don. He wasn’t the stereo-typical hellbent self-absorbed guitarist, he was a soft-spoken, grounded and humble guy, and generously spent time with the likes this inquisitive kid. Don would patiently show me things on the guitar, and it was like a quantum leap through musical space. I still recall one skill he shared was how to do a controlled bend and slow trill (guitar geek out). This technique is still in every song I play today. As I got to know Don better, I found his giftings went beyond guitar. He was a true instrumentalist who also played banjo and fiddle. This fact opened my eyes and prompted me to expand my own personal music boundaries. If it had strings, I wanted to play it. I was fortunate to find someone who would selflessly take the time to share their love of music. Back then we were just two young guys hanging out exploring the instrument and music we loved. Don had no idea of the impression he was leaving.
Don Thomson, small town Iberia boy, apparently came by his God given talent honestly. His father “Henry” was a well-known, highly regarded regional fiddle champion. See how that works! Don’s time performing in the local music scene was too brief and likely passed by right under the nose of many. (don’t take your local talent for granted.) He soon married, moved to Rolla and opened a music store. Years later I found him sitting in the middle of his small brownstone shop, plopped down on an old chair with a fiddle stuck under his chin. He still had that same transcendental euphoric look on his face.
Fast forward 50 years I have reconnected with Don. I learned he had moved on and out of Music City. Don had played regularly at the Grand Ole Opry in the 80’s as the banjo player for the bluegrass hall-of-famer “First Lady of Bluegrass” Wilma Lee Cooper. Today he is nestled comfortably in a tiny southern Kentucky community where you can find him in the middle of his homey little music store, sitting in an old chair, with a fiddle under his chin.
Thanks, Don, for the lasting memories and enduring life lesson!
