Pickin' it up: Locals celebrate 30 years of bluegrass jams

Sitting out in the sea of black asphalt, a dozen men form a circle for their weekly ritual.

It’s Friday night in Ocoee, and just as they have done for 30 years, these men — armed with banjos, guitars, mandolins, a slide guitar and an upright bass — perform their sorcery and uphold their old-timey music traditions. 

Among them, placed atop a metal folding chair, sits Jack Lewis, 80, who peeks down at his right hand as he plucks away at the strings on his old banjo. The ball cap on his head shields his eyes from the harsh light from the parking lot lights above, and his brown sports coat keeps him warm on a somewhat chilly Florida night.

His pinky and ring finger — although not as steady as they once were because of Parkinson’s disease — rest against the white drumhead as he picks a chord with his free fingers. He may not be able to play as fast as he once could, but that’s not stopping him from taking part in the weekly bluegrass jam sessions he helped start 30 years ago.

“It’s camaraderie — that’s the biggest thing,” said Lewis in his thick, folksy Southern accent. “It’s friends — just being here with them, everyone enjoys it, nobody gets mad at one another; they all just get along and have a good time.”
 

CELEBRATING BLUEGRASS

Friday night’s jam session — known as the The Ocoee Parking Lot Bluegrass Jam — which was held at the usual spot in the strip mall parking lot behind Pizza Hut in Ocoee, wasn’t just a normal night for the crew.

Thirty years ago, Lewis, his wife, Judie, and a good friend helped start the jam. Since then, they have hosted a space so local purveyors of bluegrass had a place to commune and pick together.

Originally, the jam took place outdoors near Tanner Hall on the shore of Lake Apopka, but dealing with the elements — or specifically the mosquitos — influenced the group to move into a firehouse in Winter Garden, where they played every Thursday night. But because of a liability concern from the city, the group had to move once more.

“We were looking for a place to get together, and there was a man named Cecil who worked at a service station here, and he said, ‘Let’s get out in the parking lot behind the service station,’ and we started doing that,” Jack Lewis said. “Then, we switched over to Friday nights because people could stay late and not have to go to work on Saturdays.”
 

STORYTELLING DONE RIGHT

In the lexicon of American music, no genre focuses on storytelling more than bluegrass.

It harkens back to a simpler time, when people worked with their hands and earned a living by the sweat of their brow. It’s its own folklore, and it’s steeped in the ancient art of oral storytelling. And, just like their music, those fellas picking strings all have their own unique stories to tell.

For instance, Jack Lewis has been a staple in the bluegrass community for about 40 years. Before that, he was playing hits from influential artists such as Elvis Presley on the electric guitar.

But it was bluegrass that led him to forming his old band, The Moonlite Express — which was comprised of Jack Lewis, his wife and Johnny Adams. That group eventually gave way to The Freightliners.

“We played everywhere — all over the state of Florida,” Jack Lewis said. “We had a good time. We would play all over, and that was the worst part — traveling around. We had a trailer behind the car with all the sound equipment and stuff; it gets old after a while.”

Adams — sitting a few spots over from Jack Lewis as he holds his mandolin — continues to play. He also has been involved with building mandolins for a few years. In fact, a few of his creations were in the hands of musicians at Friday night’s session.

Building mandolins started for the 84-year-old Adams back in 1994, and it’s been a learning process that takes time — a lot of time.

“I average three a year, and it takes about 130 hours,” said Adams, who has played music since he was 19. “The first one took 1,000 hours.”

One of those mandolins — though not on hand at the jam — is owned by Jerry Jernigan, who stands across the way from Adams in the circle. Jernigan, who has been coming out to the jams for the last 25 years, has been playing music for about 45 years. Tonight, he is strumming along on his Epiphone acoustic guitar.

The guitar was his first instrument, but the mandolin he owns holds a special, somewhat funny place in his heart — and a special place in the heart of his family, who hated listening to him pick at the old fiddle he owns.

“I wanted to play a fiddle, and I got a fiddle at home but they couldn’t stand me at the house, so they threw me out into the laundry room with the fiddle,” Jernigan said with a laugh. “So I said, ‘Give me a mandolin, and I won’t make scratching noises.’”

Like Jack Lewis and most folks at the jam session, Jernigan and Adams find solace in picking up their instruments, moseying down to the parking lot and picking alongside other musicians — regardless of their level of experience.

It’s a chance to escape from the real world and bond together over the music.

“It’s more of a fellowship — being with each other, meeting new friends and new pickers; we all have something in common,” Jernigan said. “I have just always loved music — I’ve never been able to play well, but I just try to do the best I can.”