Here’s a song that we likely wouldn’t even know about were it not for the persistence and curiosity of a researcher who was far from an ordinary young woman of her time. Born in 1892 in Paducah, Ky., into the family of a prominent U.S. congressman, Mary Guthrie Wheeler was destined from the start for adventure. Rather than settling into a quiet, conventional life, she embraced the extraordinary, serving, for instance, as an American Red Cross nurse in France during World War I and earning a Medal of Gratitude. Song Catching But her most enduring adventure took place back home along the bustling Ohio and Tennessee rivers, doing work that would contribute to America’s understanding of its own music. As a little girl, Mary was often taken by her nanny, Susan Collins, down to the Paducah riverfront to watch the comings and goings of the majestic steamboats. As they walked, Collins, who had worked as a cook and chambermaid on the rivers, usually sang to the youngster, planting the seeds of what became a lifelong fascination. Decades later, Wheeler realized that the river culture of her youth was rapidly fading. By then armed with a music degree from the Cincinnati Conservatory, Mary set out on a bold mission: to preserve the songs and stories of the roustabouts of the packet boat era. Mary’s methods were as intrepid as she was. Venturing into the neighborhoods of former river workers, she refused modern audio equipment offered to her by famous folklorists like Alan Lomax. Instead, Wheeler embraced a deeply personal approach. She sat with singers in their homes, writing down their lyrics and committing the melodies to memory, then racing back to her desk to transcribe the musical notation. This Song’s Story It is because of her devotion to detail that we know songs like “Alberta, Let Your Hair Hang Low,” published in her 1944 book Steamboatin’ Days. As reported here earlier, Mary’s curiosity led her one late afternoon to the street of a former river worker named Gabriel Hester. Mary was welcomed by his wife to wait on their porch, and soon she was treated to Gabe singing the haunting melody of “Alberta.” Between verses, Hester also told stories. He recalled, for instance, how roustabouts usually sang while they worked. Sometimes, as the music drifted up, steamboat passengers would drop coins from the upper decks in appreciation. Here, from a recent Flood rehearsal, we offer our own appreciation of Gabe Hester’s song. More Back Stories? Flood Watch does a mess of song catching itself, of course. If you’d like to see and hear what we’ve learned about the history of other songs in the band’s eclectic repertoire, visit our free “Song Stories” department. There you can browse songs by their titles or by the time periods in which they were written and/or discovered. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit 1937flood.substack.com
