This program was made possible by contributions to your PBS station from viewers like you.

Thank you.

I am Mike Galligan with the law offices of Galligan and Newman in McMinnville, Tennessee.

I support WCTE, the Upper Cumberland's own PBS station, because I believe it is important to create entertaining TV programs that also promote lifelong learning and understanding.

When I support WCTE, I know that I am helping our Upper Cumberland community for generations to come.

The law offices of Galligan and Newman provide clients with large firm expertise and small, firm, personalized care and service.

In this episode of Where Stories Live, we travel to Clay County, Tennessee and visited the community of Free Hills, the home of Robert Bud Garrett.

Bud was a skilled musician and inventor, whose efforts led him to be known as a pillar of the community, but early life is remembered by his children, who fondly look back on his influences.

But life in rural Tennessee is tough, and because of that, Bud learned resilience, hard work, and the unbreakable bonds of community.

At this time, I'd like to introduce to you, ladies and gentlemen, Mr.

Bud Garrett.

♪I'll tell you what.♪ ♪♪ ♪And this ain't no lie.♪ ♪♪ ♪Love is just a four♪ ♪letter word♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Robert "Bud" Garrett was my father.

I was adopted by him, and Edith Garrett at 13 days of age.

And they became my parents on October 13th, 1962.

I am the second son, second oldest.

I am one of think it's eight children.

But Garretts and we are fairly close.

I'm the baby.

I was adopted by Robert and Edith Garrett when I was , I think, a couple of weeks old.

They were the only foster parents for children in Upper Cumberland or black for black children during that time.

And I come from Cleveland, Tennessee.

I was born in 1970.

We lived in the Free Hill community here in Salina, Tennessee, which is steeped with great history.

We live in what could be considered a tourist town.

We're on beautiful Dale Hollow Lake.

I guess you say I'm the baby brother.

Well, I feel I knew him very well.

We spent a lot of time together, you know?

But I came into my father's life late in life.

You know, he was well up in age.

See, I have a different mother, so.

And we lived in a different county.

And the way that come about.

My father used to be a jukebox repairman, and he owned, several different restaurants, and, well, my mother did two.

So he was coming to the county to repair her jukebox, and they sort of kind of, I guess hit it off, you know, after my mother's husband died, you know, my mother and father, they got together, I guess, and made me.

♪Yes.

You know♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ He was born in Free Hill, on January the 28th, 1916.

He went to the Rosenwald School that sat on Free Hill He just went to the seventh or eighth grade, and then he just started working, or she got married to my mom when I were 15 or 16, you know, real young.

And I think he just done whatever he needed to do to have a home and provide for us children.

Later on in life, I guess after daddy had adopted my brother Junebug and Connie.

You know, I guess I don't know if it was his conscious or what, but I started getting older as a child, and as he came around, he kind of got close with me.

So he asked my mother if he could bring me down to Free Hill.

So I'm like, you know, my mom, tell me, you know, he's your daddy and he wants you to come and stay with him.

So and she asked me what I think about it and I said, okay.

I said, fine, you know, and she was telling me, you know, where you got brothers and sisters, you know, and everything.

So I said, okay.

He was a junk man.

He had this big junkyard at that time.

You know, like I said, late in life.

And, he come get me and he would just turn us loose.

His kids, he'd be like, Junior, don't you let Sonny get into anything.

You know, it's my nickname, Sonny and his is Junebug.

So I mean, he would be like, 'You look after your little brother now?'

And I'm like, okay, you know, so we just run around on the junkyard again.

Oh, I was always out on the junkyard with him getting greasy, and dirty and stuff.

Yeah, I followed him everywhere.

He had allowed me to go.

I was a daddy's girl.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Well, family was always a big influence with him.

His parents moving well, his father moving here, courting Adeline.

And they got married.

Late 1800s.

The family was always a big thing.

You had to be there for one another.

Always.

Especially in the times that was his life.

Being there for everyone.

You know, not only is family, but other families, it is said that one hand washes the other, and they were very close knit with other families and things.

And daddy's influence was quite well-known there, too.

If he could help you, he would give you the shirt off of his back.

♪♪ ♪Just to hear my baby...♪ ♪Say good bye.♪ What started as a developing settlement founded by freed slaves before the civil war, Free Hills quickly flourished into becoming a community where all families helped and supported each other without conditions.

It was in the early 50s that this sense of community was further ingrained with the welcoming of juke joints.

The juke joint and free hills gave residents a place to gather for socializing, food, drink and dancing.

But it was also a place where people came to hear Bud Garrett perform his his Moody Blues.

♪Well, I got a little place♪ ♪a way out in Free Hill♪ ♪That's where I'm from.♪ ♪You know, I got a little place♪ ♪ way out in Free Hill.

♪ There's all kinds of stories, that went with it again.

It's a free slave settlement.

It was settled by freed slaves.

Many families were there.

Garretts, Baileys, Hamiltons, Smiths.

So, it's very close, near.

If, if, if one needed help, then they help each other.

Families did.

If I could describe, that time period and, they would leave the hills and go downtown and maybe they did housekeeping, and many of them probably worked for the Corps of Engineers, I think.

Bud then, along with a few other people, made that community relevant, because of, of his gift of music, but also his ability to connect with people outside of him or outside of his race who could help that community.

It was known also as a meeting place, for community, because he did as an entrepreneur, juke joints.

He had two.

One was the Free Hill Trail Club.

Did that here with mom.

They cook, they sing.

There was always a a meeting to say of the community.

They were there was always someone at our house.

Always.

A juke joint is a place where, mainly they call it a juke joint because they have a jukebox in the place.

And with that, you would have, in, in Salina, you would have the latest and greatest, rhythm and blues songs and the latest and greatest, you know, dances during that time.

You know, people in my culture, a couple times a year, there was a new dance that came out, whether it be the jerk or the boogaloo, you know, and you go on those juke joints and they had the music that matched up with those dances, and the day didn't belong to you if you didn't know how to do one of those dances.

And so I always made sure that I did.

And in that juke joint, you get to dance, you get to, you get a great sandwich.

And of course, if you participate in having a good cold beer or something like that, that's what went along with the juke joint.

And another thing too, you you style and profile, you know, your clothing was everybody gets to wear their Sunday go to meeting clothes on those Saturday and Sundays and it was just a time to to have a good time and socially, hang out with your friends.

And there were always people at our house from ever different race culture.

That's what I remember.

It wasn't just black people.

There were white people there.

Some of them had money, some of them didn't.

And some of his best friends were hippies from up on Kettle Creek.

You know, I remember all that.

And we used to go up to Kettle Creek and spend time with them and stuff, and they were like extra family.

So I've always held my life like he did.

I can remember when people would pull up and would want something to drink and hey, if they wanted a beer, he had an old RC machine that sat by our front door and you had your Nehi peach and grape.

And that last one was Old Milwaukee.

You could get your beer or if you wanted something stronger, he could go to one of the junk cars and he might pull you out a little white lightning or something like that.

But Definitely a unique community.

And it was really awesome.

And so but you got to participate with Bud Garrett, his influence is on Saturday night, specially through music.

Then on Sunday you lay back and go to his little to his juke joint and enjoy the music and just fellowship with the people in the community.

You know, we all knew who Bud Garrett was growing up because Bud was forever here around the square, picking, and when we'd have festivals and things, he would be.

But we knew he was different because he came in with his primitive blues when most everybody else here was either doing, old fashioned gospel music, which he also did, or country music, in which he also did a bunch of that.

But most of his stuff was, you know, the primitive blues.

He and his guitar and singing about, you know, and all kinds of different things, a lot of which he wrote.

and alot he didn't, you know, one like 'Who threw the Whiskey in the Well' I mean, 'Which you can't tell which way the train went by the tracks', I mean things like that, that he he played and I know the local country music musicians, they didn't really like to play with Bud because, you know, they couldn't do the licks that he did and that kind of thing.

He was highly talented musically, No formal musical lessons, it's all by ear.

He picked it up really well, of course, within history, of of of, let's say, play songs.

what have you.

Great heralds and things.

His sound was very, very rich, and he sung about everyday life in general.

Somewhat good times, bad times.

It was there.

I mean, all of his songs, they sort of correlate who he was.

And, you know, his life, everything he experienced, like he had a song, 'Quit my Drinking.

He loved to drink, you know?

And, like I said, a little place in Free Hill.

He loved that place because Free Hill, it meant the world to him.

And everyone up there.

I mean, that's home, he said.

You know, I mean, he would tell me.

He'd be like, look here, I'm free.

This is my home.

So he cherished it.

And everyone that was up there.

And this will go to my grand children.

My daughter, she plays the guitar.

I never did learn electrical.

257 00:14:32,371 --> 00:14:35,341 But, some friends of his, made this, and it was the coolest thing on the planet because it's got his name, of course.

Whatever.

I called him nickname bird.

But then it's got, like, the cuff links.

The music, junkyard blues, it, all this stuff that fit him to a tee.

It was perfect for him.

Let's see.

I like to play like I'm him.

[laughs] Another good thing about him when he's playing his music, he would reflect to someone out in the crowd and he would like , Look at Old Billy over there grinning like a possum, eating persimmons and stuff like that.

You know, he he and he made people laugh at the same time.

So, that was a gift that he had.

So he he was a cool guy, that's for sure.

In addition to his music, Bud nurtured an incredible interest in flint marble making, going so far as to building his own marble machines from scratch with materials sourced from the junkyard he owned.

His critically acclaimed method of sculpting and shaping marbles had earned him a great deal of attention, especially during the Rolling Marble Championships that took place in and around the upper Cumberland River Valley.

♪I've got the swinging doors,♪♪ ♪a jukebox and a bar stool♪ ♪♪ ♪You can stop by and see me ♪ anytime you want.♪ ♪Thanks to you,♪ My first introduction to him.

He and my father were great friends.

My father was a mechanic.

He was a mechanic.

And I know my dad would go up and bass, pop spare parts and things, but my dad found a big chunk of flint on the Dale Hollow Lake.

about yay big it was just a beautiful translucent red.

And he told.

He told He said boys I'm going to get Bud to make you all a marble out of this.

And I think he told Bud to make him four marbles.

Well, that's what bud out of that great big rock he made four marbles and gave them to dad.

I don't know what he did with the rest of them, but, you know.

But we kept ours.

One And one of them is still floating somewhere among my nieces nephews.

But I know that's the first time that I was acquainted with him.

When I was probably 14 or 15 years old.

He learned music from his father, and he learned to make marbles from his father.

They used to make them, would take a piece of flint from the stories I've read and learn and would take it to the field with them every day when they worked, and then they would put it in a creek bed, and of course, the water would spin it and make it round if it didn't get lost.

And then he'd developed his own marble machine to make it faster and more efficient.

I just used to watch him.

I never did play, and, I can remember that they would span their hand like this before they would shoot the marble.

And, thing of the game was to knock everybody else's marbles out.

That's all I can remember.

Yeah, they get together.

They played the game, of course, to get a little spirited sometimes.

It was.

It was fun.

I've played.

It was about being together with your friends, also with your family.

You talked, about situations that were going on within family and things as to who may or may not need help with this that or the other.

And with that, that's, that's that's what kept us all together really.

Well, one form of it, that can be said, is fun game.

Fun game.

One day we was on the junkyard and we got done working, and I noticed he kept fooling around.

I said, Daddy, What are you doing?

He said, I'm going to make a marble machine.

I said, you are going to make a marble machine?

He said, yeah, he had an old washer and dryer and he would tear it apart.

So he had done made one marble machine he's fooling with it, It is a tabletop, that thing.

And he kept working with it, but it never would work.

Right.

The marbles kept flying off and popping off, and he'd have me to run to pick them up and find them.

They they would go everywhere.

So then he set up.

He took it motor out that washer, I think it was a something.

And he had a little old board, a little platform like.

And he had these, these metal bars.

He started bending up.

He said, I'm going to make a marble machine.

yeah.

Okay.

He said the system to making these marbles is you can't just make one at a time.

You have to make like 3 or 4.

You get them started and you keep switching back and forth so it don't get too hot and buzz.

And he kept showing me how to grind it, how to work with it, with the marble machine.

And finally, eventually on the end, I made 2 or 3 of them.

You know, he let me make them, you know, after you chop them out, you chunk them and get them kind of rounded.

You put them into the grinding thing, put it up to the wheel.

And as it spins, it'll cut.

And as it cuts that rock, it makes it round and it get smooth.

And when it gets real smooth, it'll roll real free.

And then it'll start glowing.

When it gets hot, that marble, it'll glow from the heat and late at night.

It looks so beautiful.

You never, son seen.

Nothing is beautiful in your life.

I know he had one.

It was like a tabletop.

And then he turned it.

And then he made the box one where he could transport it, you know, easily.

You know, we've all.

We always said that was kind of like the holy grail of marbles was Bud's marble making machine, because all of the guys now they play marbles.

Most of them, they have a setup like that where they actually make their own marbles.

And, you know, with the Rolling Hole marble game, it's one of the most simplistic and inexpensive game there is.

All you need is 20 by 50ft of dirt.

Put three holes in it and make you 3 or 4 marbles out of rocks.

The courts are called marble yards, located only where the clay dirt is just the right consistency.

The marbles are made of local flint.

Time was it Took three weeks to carefully grind and polish a marble.

Today it is a much quicker process but still a time on a dime.

But Garrett's been making marbles for over half a century.

I'm hoping somebody else will catch on to it.

There's already a few other people that's trying to make them, but I haven't been familiar with anybody that makes them the way I do.

♪I play marbles all day.♪ ♪ I Never win a game♪.

♪ ♪Yes, I played marbles all day.♪ ♪Baby, you know I never win a game.♪ 397 00:21:49,174 --> 00:21:51,243 Bud's legacy continues to live on.

As father and as entrepreneur.

Decades later, his marble making machine is displayed at the National Rolling Decades later, his marble making machine is displayed at the National Rolling Hole Marble Museum, preserving his craftsmanship and innovation.

His music, once nearly forgotten, is rediscovered by blues enthusiasts, ensuring that the name Bud Garrett remains etched in Tennessee's local history.

♪You'll remember me, baby.♪ ♪♪ I think that people in general meant more to him than material things, you know?

I mean, you just have to meet him.

I mean, hey, he was more into who you were, what you were about, not what you had, not what you could offer him.

Give him a do for him.

And one thing he instilled in me, he said, look, when you meet people, he said, you learn from people.

And I mean that.

That's how I live my life.

When I meet somebody, I always observe and I get what I can from them.

And that's how he learned and he was self-taught.

I mean, he could fix anything.

He was a jack of all trades.

And how he learned that was through other people.

When he would get with somebody, he'd be like, hey, fellas, show me how you did that.

You know, how do you do this?

How do you do that?

And that goes back to like, with the marble machine, making the marbles, making the music and the smile that he would have.

He had a mischievous nature, somewhat to, I miss his music.

I miss just talking to him, you know, on any level, on any subject.

I can talk to him, and I miss that, so very much.

But within that, too, I have my siblings, and I see so much of daddy in them.

They are all my reasons for living.

By him, making that marble machine and making marbles.

And he even played some.

Not a lot, but he played marbles.

And, after he became popular, making him.

That's when the rolling hole marbles kind of exploded.

And I would give anything if he could see where it's at today, you know, because he died in 87.

So it was really just kicking off.

And he played a part in the standing Stone marble yard.

He helped carved that out, and that's dedicated to him.

So that's a legacy all in itself.

I mean, Bud brought the attention and the fact that he I mean, if you mention, a Bud Garrett marble and if you've got 50 marble players.

Who has a Bud Garrett marble, 49 of those hands will go up.

I mean, that was the it is important that if you just have one of his marbles, you have a treasure.

I don't think he he will never be forgotten for his connection to rolling marbles and then being a great blues master.

That he was.

Folks are discovering that because, you know, primitive blues now are back in.

And of course we have a lot of people to thank, thank for that.

But one of them, of course, is Mr. Bobby Fulcher, who was with the Fantasy Park, who helped institute the first Rolley Hole Marble Championship in 1983.

And along that line, he got our local representative to go down to the state rep, to the state legislature and get them to make a donation to put a cover on the marble yard at standing Stone Park.

And I think they all felt like And you know who who is this guy?

But if you go over there now and you see all the folks coming to to get down to that shelter, you realize what a great, great move it was.

I mean, he was so great in so many different ways.

He up so many different people.

I mean, you know, I'm not saying my father was perfect cause he was far from that.

But he didn't want to be perfect.

He just wanted to be your friend.

He just wanted to be someone that you could look up to.

And, I don't know, think, hey, he's a good guy.

We are what he was.

You know, and I feel that my father was a great man.

One of the best you could ever meet.

Passing on to my my siblings, passing on to my friends, my loved ones, people I care about.

I want to pass on Bud Garrett to everyone, the world I wish everyone in the world could experience my father, 484 00:26:24,316 --> 00:26:26,585 I feel everyone needs one.

♪Go home and get dressed♪ As a young child in Free Hill Strums a guitar and another practices rolling marbles in the dirt.

Bud spirit lingers, woven into the melodies of the blues and the click of marbles, striking the game of Rolley Hole.

His story is one of resilience, creativity and enduring love for tradition, providing that true legends never fade.

Thank you for watching and we hope to see you next time.

When we go where stories live.

♪♪ ♪♪ I am Mike Galligan with the law offices of Galligan and Newman in McMinnville, Tennessee.

I support WCTE, the Upper Cumberland's own PBS station, because I believe it is important to create entertaining TV programs that also promote lifelong learning and understanding.

When I support WCTE, I know that I am helping our Upper Cumberland community for generations to come.

The law offices of Galligan and Newman provide clients with large, firm expertise and small, firm, personalized care and service.

This program was made possible by contributions to your PBS station from viewers like you.

Thank you.