I couldn't tell you what the weather was each day that week, but I can tell you that late-August in Appalachia is hot, and scattered thunderstorms are common. Sometimes they get pretty rough, and happen quickly. We'd had a few of these already that week, but the show had gone on, so-to-say. If you're from here, you just know that. One of the other bands had come there from the Hudson Valley. They'd seen thunderstorms, but weren't used to them sneaking over a mountain with a few seconds' notice. The fiddle player in that outfit and I had bonded during one of those downpours, over a mutual love of Norman and Nancy, Doc & Merle, and a general agreement that this festival was headed for big trouble.

Late Saturday morning, the cabin of roving bands was about to break out to be on-location for the day after another nearly all-night jam. I remember desperately trying to sleep in that cot as the sun began to warm it up in there, hung over, sweating, head pounding, and for some reason, our fellow musicians kept pushing those spring-loaded wooden doors open and letting them [[[SLAM]]] shut. After three or four times I couldn't take it anymore and sprang out of bed to deal with this situation. One of the other guys had the same idea at the same moment. I kicked the door open and held it, and all in one motion, he slammed a big steel trash can in front of it for a stop. Both of us went back to those prison-grade cots for 10 more minutes of peace. I got up and rinsed off, all the hot water long gone by now, chased a Goody's Headache Powder, shouldered my bass and marched off to war.

The last day at Stompin' '99 was kinda' terse for lack of a better word. I think all of us were just tired. It hadn't been what we thought from the jump, and we just wanted to finish out the gig and get on home. While we had been paid, there were rumors floating around that other bands weren't... not the roving bands, the bigger acts. You know, the ones people actually paid (theoretically) to see. Most bluegrass festivals are weighted so that the biggest draw is near the end, Saturday night. It was John Cowan's band, Ralph Stanley & The Clinch Mtn Boys, and Doc Watson. Doc had played at Stompin' '76 too, so that was to be like a cherry-on-top moment. I was a huge Doc fan even then and especially T. Michael Coleman who played bass with him and the Seldom Scene, also there. I had to go take that in. So after the gig was up I grabbed a couple Stompin' Bucks from the band's communal cookie jar, and found my fiddle-playin' buddy. She'd packed a quart jar of blueberries soaking in moonshine in a backpack, and we headed toward the mainstage.

I don't remember when the rain started, but it didn't stop this time. The grassy area in front of the mainstage wasn't grassy anymore. I hadn't thought about folding chairs. Or rain gear. Not that either would have made the difference between wet and dry. We looked for higher ground, passed that jar, and watched the movie play out. It was all somebody else's problem now. I felt bad for the bands up there. I'd been there a couple years before when Acoustic Endeavors was working the rubber chicken circuit... playing in all kinds of weather on all kinds of stages. I felt bad for the crew too... it had really gotten dangerous. There wasn't lightning, but it was literally raining sideways. They couldn't call it at this point. Ralph Stanley elected to play backstage, unplugged, the stage wasn't safe to be on at the time. We sat out there though, for Doc... leaned, really. 

By the time we got back to the cabin, the jam was on. There was a sea of people and trash outside, a ring 200 feet in diameter to push through. It wasn't easy to convince the Militia Goons we lived there. 

End of Part 4. (The End is near)

The last night at Stompin' '99 was a mash-up of celebration and relief. I'd have to describe it sort of like a graduation party atmosphere. I don't think anyone was sorry it was ending, but on the other hand, we'd had a pretty good time after hours at the musician's quarters and the last night wasn't any exception. In fact, a couple guest musicians had joined us from other bands booked there, having heard where the party was.

Where we left off, the mainstage had closed down for the night, but people were milling around the park looking for something to do or anything going on, and the music wafting from the bunkhouse got their attention. We'd made it back and through the mob and the security detail, both of us wet and pretty drunk, found some food and dry clothes, grabbed instruments and joined in. Remember when you could live on alcohol, junk food, and no sleep... for several days? You can brainwash people like that. It ain't good for you. I'd like to know for fun how much longer my life would be if I hadn't done so many of these things. But I had just watched a girl drink half-quart of blueberry moonshine, smoke pot out of a corncob pipe, change clothes behind her car and then pull a bow over a fiddle like Mark O'Connor... I wasn't going to lose to that. So I played myself sober with everyone else in the circle. The night was over in a flash.

The next morning I was sitting on the cabin porch with a couple more folks just gaining consciousness when we started hearing a commotion up towards the camp office. Couldn't really tell what it was, just hollering. My head hurt, and I didn't really care. It was just another one of those "okay, more crazy about to happen" moments. I'd already put most of my stuff in the car and the rest of it was staged up and ready to load. We had adopted the tshirt-worthy phrase; "We got stomped at Stompin' '99" and that was about how I was feeling. I heard a bus engine and more ruckus. It looked like a tour bus was stuck in the road... but it wasn't stuck, they were purposefully blocking the road. More hollering and we saw people running to and from the office. Some were the Militia guys, others were park personnel. We found out later they had taken Hal hostage in the office to keep him from escaping with the money, and rival security teams were battling to either free or keep him there. Remember, nobody here has cash. Just Stompin Bucks. They still gotta' get paid. Think about this scenario... Sunday morning is a fiaso. We took a quick band vote and decided to get out while we still could. I bid my farewells to the folks in the cabin and headed back home.

As we were leaving, going out the one road in, the West Virginia State Police were on the way in, one would assume to restore order. These days, the Buffalo Gap Campground is a summer retreat. A friend of mine who ran a company that did powerline right-of-way maintenance told me it was a nudist colony for a short time too. I don't want to know how he knows. We heard mixed reports about who got paid and didn't but I don't really know. We did. The bus blocking the road was Peter Rowan's if you're curious. I reckon he and Rice got paid. I still think the Stompin Bucks were a scheme. Stompin' '99 was over except for the trip home. I don't remember much about that.


Epilogue:

Acoustic Endeavors continued to rebuild for a while and had some success regionally. We released an EP in 2000 before they were really a thing. I dropped out of the band in late-2002, rejoined in 2012, and played the occasional reunion show until the band became basically defunct. I still see them from time to time but we never play anymore or even discuss it. I stayed in touch with my fiddle-playing fellow-traveler for a while too. Last I heard she was teaching violin and playing in a production of My Fair Lady. There's a note from her in the bow pocket of my bass case to this day. I never heard any more about Stompin' '99, and until that article came out last month I didn't figure to ever hear about it again. It was a disaster as far as festivals go, just not nearly on the scale as the 1976 iteration had been. Nevertheless, it was a landmark for those of us that were there. When it comes up in conversation, the facial expressions usually say it all. If anything is said, it's something like; "what a sh*tshow... but man, what a great time!"

*Band picture of us, post-Stompin' '99, about the time the Sneak Preview EP came out. This is possibly the last unopened copy... still has the 'ticket' sealing it shut.