Fred McBride

1924-2006

Copy of speech delivered at Fred's funeral:

"Folks, with Fred’s passing, there's a lot of things in my life that are coming to a close. I'd like to talk about a couple of those things.

One has to do with music. Everyone knows that Fred played the fiddle, but there may be a few people that don't know that Fred was one of the last great oldtime fiddlers. The way he moved a bow, the way he heard and played tunes is something very different from today’s musicians. I’m not saying that music should stay the same or people should play the way Fred did; every generation has to find its own way. I’m just saying that you won’t hear much fiddling like Fred’s anymore. There’s a few old men scattered here and there, but the sound of Fred’s generation of fiddlers is a fading sound, and it’s a sound I’ll miss.

The second is much more important and has to do with the kind of man Fred was. There’s been a lot of talk about the World War II generation, and Fred was a part of that generation. I can’t put into words how that generation is different from my generation or the generation of students I teach at the high school.

I can tell you it has something to do with work. It has to do with what you expect to have to work for and what you expect to be given to you. Fred didn’t expect a whole lot to be given to him.

It has a lot to do with what they mean when they say something. When my students at the high school tell me they’re going to be somewhere at a certain time; most of the time I’d flip a coin as to whether they came or not. When Fred told me he was going to be somewhere at a certain time, he was probably flipping a coin as to whether I’d come or not.

As I think about Fred, there’s one scene that comes to my mind over and over. We’d be in a music jam and someone would come in who was a bit of big shot. People would stop playing and make a big deal that he was there and all kinds of stuff. Not Fred. I can picture him perfectly with his legs crossed and toothpick in his mouth - he’d just turn in the other direction like there wasn’t anyone there at all.

Now if that person turned out to be a good, normal person that people were just making fools of themselves over, Fred would treat him as good and respectfully as he treated everyone. But Fred kept people on the same level. As long as I knew Fred, I never knew him to put anyone beneath him or anyone above him.

I’ll miss Fred a lot. I’ll miss the sound of his fiddle and way he handled a bow. I’ll miss the quiet way he’d always be an important part of things. Mostly, I’ll miss the solidness and dependability that come with a good man of his generation.

I’ve got Fred’s fiddle here, and I’d like to play one of his favorites. I’d like to ask the pardon of anyone here who may feel that this is not the right place or time to play fiddle. I understand your feelings and I thought long and hard on it, but I woke up this morning a just felt it was the right thing to do.

Fred’s the only person I know who played this tune. It’s called Going Across the Mountain, and it’s a little bit mournful. In a way, Fred is going across the mountain himself and I’d like to wish him a good journey."