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| "Fiddlin' With the Frogs" |
bluegrass festival
| hosted by: Frog Hollow Campground |
Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . . Once upon a time, in a small village in Transylvania . . . It was a
dark and stormy night, suddenly, a shot rang out . . . It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . As
another day dawned over New York, a pall hung over the city like a death shroud . . . They call me Ishmael .
. . As in all the classic beginnings, so *The Fabulous Bagasse Boyz* too have humble origins. Born into a
poor black sharecroppers family in Norway, *The Boyz* were numbers eleven, fifteen and twenty-two of
twenty-seven children. Their mother died at age seventeen of exhaustion and their father worked odd jobs
to support the children and *The Boyz* pitched in selling insurance and potatoes to make ends meet. But
fate did not smile on *The Boyz *and they all three ended up in Louisiana's Angola Prison Farm in Cell
Block D. Willi was doing 5 to 7 for impersonating a sane person, Fritz was in for 3 years for felonious
banjoing and Rex had been convicted of telling bad jokes across state lines. They formed a band to
entertain the other prisoners but unfortunately, most of the prisoners at that time were into either Lawrence
Welk or Leadbelly, hence the odd combinations of music *The Boyz* play today. After being paroled they
decided to try their hand at being street musicians in Baton Rouge. Not a good idea. They were run out of
town on a rail. Actually they were chased down to the train tracks and were told not to come back. They had
heard through the grapevine (actually Kudzu) that Dallas was a haven for musicians so they packed up the
instruments and headed west north west to the land of opportunity.
Upon arriving in Dallas they found their way to the Cuban district hoping that the friendly Cuban community
would welcome them with open arms. Alas, this was not to be. Most of the Cuban shop keepers hated
bluegrass music and constantly complained to the police about the noise *The Boyz* made. The only person
who was understanding of *The Boyz's* plight was a nightclub owner named Jack. He took pity on *The
Boyz* and allowed them to play during the breaks of other musicians at his club at night. During the day
*The Boyz* still tried to make pocket change by playing on the streets in front of some Cuban restaurants.
The Cuban shopkeepers were at their wits end about how to get rid of *The Boyz.* One of them had a
lawyer friend in New Orleans named Clay. They called Clay and asked if he could help them be rid of *The
Boyz* and their annoying music. Clay told them he had a friend named Lee who had just returned from
Russia and was looking for work. Clay said that Lee would come to Dallas and scare off *The Boyz* so the
shopkeepers could ply their trade in peace.
In mid November of 1963 Lee headed to Dallas for the confrontation. Meanwhile, *The Boyz* had heard
that the president was coming to town to visit. They thought this would be a prime opportunity to make some
money playing for the big crowds that were sure to come out to see the president. On the big day, they
trundled off with their instruments in a borrowed shopping cart and headed off to Dealey Plaza looking for
the perfect place to perform. They found a grassy knoll overlooking the parade route and tuned up their
instruments to play. Meanwhile, Lee had been looking for *The Boyz* all over the Cuban district but could
not find them. Someone told him that *The Boyz* had gone off to the parade route to annoy . . . er a . . .
"entertain" the crowds coming to see the president. Lee headed for the area but knew he would have a hard
time finding *The Boyz *in the crowd. He spotted a tall building that looked like it housed some type of book
depository and thought that if he could get to the windows of one of the upper floors, he would be able to spot
*The Boyz*. Lee had brought a rifle with him to scare *The Boyz* with and took it up the stairs of the book
depository. He found an open window with no one around and positioned himself to look for *The Boyz*. In
no time he had spotted them playing for a lackadaisical audience near the parade route. Lee decided that
the best way to scare off *The Boyz* would be to fire a shot near to them and make them believe someone
was trying to kill them. He didn't want to hurt them, just get rid of them. He set up his rifle and was ready to
fire just as the presidential motorcade was passing. He intended to shoot over *The Boyz's* heads but the
scope on his rifle was a little off. He fired and the shot hit the rim of Fritz's banjo, split in two and ricocheted
off towards the president's limousine. (Ask Fritz to show you the notch on his banjo rim where the bullet hit)
The sound of the shot hitting the banjo rim sounded like a gunshot itself and the two bullet fragments hit the
president and the governor of Texas. Lee cursed his misfortune and fired again but the scope was so far off
he didn't know where this second shot went. He then noticed all the commotion in the parade and decided
he'd better get out of there before someone saw him.
Lee was later arrested and taken to police headquarters for questioning. Meanwhile the Secret Service
whisked *The Boyz* away to a secret location to question them on what had happened. They told their story
and it was confirmed when the police saw the notch in Fritz's banjo rim. By this time, Jack, the night club
owner had heard what Lee had tried to do to *The Boyz* and he was irate. He went down to the police
headquarters and when the police were taking Lee to the courthouse, Jack shot and killed him. Jack was
arrested and tried for the murder of Lee but he never confessed the real reason he had shot him. The Secret
Service and the Justice department knew that people would never believe the president had been shot by
accident from a bullet meant to scare off *The Boyz* so they concocted a story that they thought the public
would believe and gave all their made up evidence to Earl Warren who believed every word. *The Boyz
*were told that if they would sign a non-disclosure contract and agree not to tell anyone about what had
happened, they would be given bus fare back to Baton Rouge. This was the best deal *The Boyz* could ever
hope for because they were getting tired of the hassles in Dallas and were homesick for some good Cajun
food. They signed the contract that held them to be silent on the subject for 43 years and a day. The
contract stipulated that *The Boyz* were not allowed to play music together again for 40 years for fear
that their bad musical interpretations would lead to another national tragedy.
In 2003, *The Boyz* reunited, added the *"Fabulous Bagasse"* to their name and started to annoy
audiences all around the Baton Rouge area until they ran out of folks to annoy and had to try playing gigs in
Mississippi where their reputation had not preceded them. And that's how *The Fabulous Bagasse Boyz*
ended up at Fiddling With The Frogs.
Say good night Gracie . . .
http://www.myspace.com/thefabulousbagasseboyz
dark and stormy night, suddenly, a shot rang out . . . It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . As
another day dawned over New York, a pall hung over the city like a death shroud . . . They call me Ishmael .
. . As in all the classic beginnings, so *The Fabulous Bagasse Boyz* too have humble origins. Born into a
poor black sharecroppers family in Norway, *The Boyz* were numbers eleven, fifteen and twenty-two of
twenty-seven children. Their mother died at age seventeen of exhaustion and their father worked odd jobs
to support the children and *The Boyz* pitched in selling insurance and potatoes to make ends meet. But
fate did not smile on *The Boyz *and they all three ended up in Louisiana's Angola Prison Farm in Cell
Block D. Willi was doing 5 to 7 for impersonating a sane person, Fritz was in for 3 years for felonious
banjoing and Rex had been convicted of telling bad jokes across state lines. They formed a band to
entertain the other prisoners but unfortunately, most of the prisoners at that time were into either Lawrence
Welk or Leadbelly, hence the odd combinations of music *The Boyz* play today. After being paroled they
decided to try their hand at being street musicians in Baton Rouge. Not a good idea. They were run out of
town on a rail. Actually they were chased down to the train tracks and were told not to come back. They had
heard through the grapevine (actually Kudzu) that Dallas was a haven for musicians so they packed up the
instruments and headed west north west to the land of opportunity.
Upon arriving in Dallas they found their way to the Cuban district hoping that the friendly Cuban community
would welcome them with open arms. Alas, this was not to be. Most of the Cuban shop keepers hated
bluegrass music and constantly complained to the police about the noise *The Boyz* made. The only person
who was understanding of *The Boyz's* plight was a nightclub owner named Jack. He took pity on *The
Boyz* and allowed them to play during the breaks of other musicians at his club at night. During the day
*The Boyz* still tried to make pocket change by playing on the streets in front of some Cuban restaurants.
The Cuban shopkeepers were at their wits end about how to get rid of *The Boyz.* One of them had a
lawyer friend in New Orleans named Clay. They called Clay and asked if he could help them be rid of *The
Boyz* and their annoying music. Clay told them he had a friend named Lee who had just returned from
Russia and was looking for work. Clay said that Lee would come to Dallas and scare off *The Boyz* so the
shopkeepers could ply their trade in peace.
In mid November of 1963 Lee headed to Dallas for the confrontation. Meanwhile, *The Boyz* had heard
that the president was coming to town to visit. They thought this would be a prime opportunity to make some
money playing for the big crowds that were sure to come out to see the president. On the big day, they
trundled off with their instruments in a borrowed shopping cart and headed off to Dealey Plaza looking for
the perfect place to perform. They found a grassy knoll overlooking the parade route and tuned up their
instruments to play. Meanwhile, Lee had been looking for *The Boyz* all over the Cuban district but could
not find them. Someone told him that *The Boyz* had gone off to the parade route to annoy . . . er a . . .
"entertain" the crowds coming to see the president. Lee headed for the area but knew he would have a hard
time finding *The Boyz *in the crowd. He spotted a tall building that looked like it housed some type of book
depository and thought that if he could get to the windows of one of the upper floors, he would be able to spot
*The Boyz*. Lee had brought a rifle with him to scare *The Boyz* with and took it up the stairs of the book
depository. He found an open window with no one around and positioned himself to look for *The Boyz*. In
no time he had spotted them playing for a lackadaisical audience near the parade route. Lee decided that
the best way to scare off *The Boyz* would be to fire a shot near to them and make them believe someone
was trying to kill them. He didn't want to hurt them, just get rid of them. He set up his rifle and was ready to
fire just as the presidential motorcade was passing. He intended to shoot over *The Boyz's* heads but the
scope on his rifle was a little off. He fired and the shot hit the rim of Fritz's banjo, split in two and ricocheted
off towards the president's limousine. (Ask Fritz to show you the notch on his banjo rim where the bullet hit)
The sound of the shot hitting the banjo rim sounded like a gunshot itself and the two bullet fragments hit the
president and the governor of Texas. Lee cursed his misfortune and fired again but the scope was so far off
he didn't know where this second shot went. He then noticed all the commotion in the parade and decided
he'd better get out of there before someone saw him.
Lee was later arrested and taken to police headquarters for questioning. Meanwhile the Secret Service
whisked *The Boyz* away to a secret location to question them on what had happened. They told their story
and it was confirmed when the police saw the notch in Fritz's banjo rim. By this time, Jack, the night club
owner had heard what Lee had tried to do to *The Boyz* and he was irate. He went down to the police
headquarters and when the police were taking Lee to the courthouse, Jack shot and killed him. Jack was
arrested and tried for the murder of Lee but he never confessed the real reason he had shot him. The Secret
Service and the Justice department knew that people would never believe the president had been shot by
accident from a bullet meant to scare off *The Boyz* so they concocted a story that they thought the public
would believe and gave all their made up evidence to Earl Warren who believed every word. *The Boyz
*were told that if they would sign a non-disclosure contract and agree not to tell anyone about what had
happened, they would be given bus fare back to Baton Rouge. This was the best deal *The Boyz* could ever
hope for because they were getting tired of the hassles in Dallas and were homesick for some good Cajun
food. They signed the contract that held them to be silent on the subject for 43 years and a day. The
contract stipulated that *The Boyz* were not allowed to play music together again for 40 years for fear
that their bad musical interpretations would lead to another national tragedy.
In 2003, *The Boyz* reunited, added the *"Fabulous Bagasse"* to their name and started to annoy
audiences all around the Baton Rouge area until they ran out of folks to annoy and had to try playing gigs in
Mississippi where their reputation had not preceded them. And that's how *The Fabulous Bagasse Boyz*
ended up at Fiddling With The Frogs.
Say good night Gracie . . .
http://www.myspace.com/thefabulousbagasseboyz
