I remember Vic

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Becky Kimmons

Just looking at these photos of my dear friend Vic makes me smile. I met him at my very first Augusta Heritage Workshops Vocal Week in 1997. We walked, talked, and sang all night when we first met, not going in until after daybreak. After that, we were the best of friends, forever. I still have a cassette tape of Vic telling me about his midnight solo trip across an Indian reservation. Many a time he gave me a different way of thinking about something that was troubling me, and many a time we laughed about life's ironies. I could rely on him to have thought deeply about contemporary issues and have an interesting opinion, worth considering. What a mind he had, and what a gentle, generous spirit. He was a rare human being. I'm glad I knew him, and was honored to call him my friend. I'm looking forward to singing all day, and maybe all night, in his honor.

Bob Vasile

I have a song I want to sing for Vic’s memorial. I realize I’ve known him for over 40 years. Last time I saw him was at Mike Kovick's guitar showing at Music Makers. We would always tease each other and he was so witty and funny to cut up with. He was one of the nicest persons I’ve ever known.

WALK TOGETHER

Bob Vasile 2004

There’s a song I heard somewhere
It’s still inside my head.
You know the one I mean
the one you can’t forget.
That melody was in my thoughts as I fell down to my bed.
That voice brought in the new day, then its echo slipped away.

Chorus:
We will walk together, with the sunshine on our face.
Sharing thoughts and memories, and places that we’ve been.
Speak the names of many friends, of course our families.
Make some plans and wonder what the new year it will bring.

Déjà vu’s a funny thing, we’ve all been there before.
Something so familiar slips right inside your door.
did all this really happen, or was it just a dream.
You just can’t put your finger on a fading memory.

Chorus

I’ve heard about a better place, it could be here and now.
Of course we might be back this way, I’m sure someday we’ll know.
The minutes they keep ticking round, some slow and sometimes fast.
Grab hold the ones that’s close to you and try to make them last.

Chorus

Bill Lyman

Victor added music and insight to my young life in the 50's and early 60's. Happily reconnected

later in life.

Lyn Roberts

Vic and I met in 1977 at the Durham Arts Council where he was the artist-in-residence and I did community outreach. We both had unusual and in many ways similar backstories involving music and art and became close friends. We remained so until his departure from this life. I miss him.

Susan Eastman

A kind man and music friend whom I used to see weekly at a jam.

Play on in the heavens!

Mitzi Quint

My enduring memory of Vic is his beautiful, tender, plaintive playing & singing of "Won't You Come and Sing For Me," which I requested every time we got together to make music. He had his own place on the couch at our monthly song circle for years, and I vividly see him there every time I walk into the room, his song still in the air and his presence very much in my heart. I loved watching his hands (his face was mostly hidden under fedora and beard...) draw exquisite music from his guitar -- sometimes playful, sometimes bluesy and sorrowful, always sensitive to the singing and the singer, and always taking us someplace only he could create. After our gatherings, he always thanked me in a sweet courtly manner that momentarily called forth from his deceptively-humble appearance the royal, commanding, gracious, magical Wizard of wonder that many, many, many lucky folks knew and loved. And still love! Thank you, Vic, for sharing your song so generously, and for encouraging mine. We will come and sing for you. Always.

Anne Racel

Before Facebook or Slack or Twitch. Before MySpace. Even before AOL, there was Compuserve. And on Compuserve were group chat rooms. Vic and I met in the early 90's on one called the Back Porch. Vic was humorous, and kind, and funny, and a pleasure to speak with. Eventually we met in person as well. But that's another story.

Things I learned about Vic along the way.

Vic loved 'roots' American music: blues and old timey. He didn't care for jazz and hated the sound of the saxophone, and he didn't like bluegrass. I always wondered if his love for 'roots' music was because he grew up outside of the US since my mom, who also grew up outside the US had the same tastes.

Vic’s favorite blues song was ‘Wild About My Lovin’

He loved Mt. Airy. I joined him there one year, camping out and enjoying the whole scene. He hated the ‘big’ festivals. I just looked at one of our last email conversations. Apparently he was also doing Clifftop now?

Vic had grown up in India and Italy, after WW II because his dad was in the foreign service. He didn't care for India, but loved Italy. He learned 'street Italian' from the urchins he hung around with when he lived there. He went back for a visit as an adult.

Vic was proud of his beard, and how long he could grow it. He did trim it once when I asked him to because it was getting so scraggly looking.

Vic was not a fan of organized religion. He told a story about hitchhiking around San Francisco and taking advantage of the food offered by the Salvation Army for the homeless. He was grateful for the food, but he didn’t like having to listen to the requisite sermon that accompanied it.

Vic’s American home was in Illinois. He talked about early on how one could find marijuana growing on the sides of the road when he was young. I always think of that story when I hear Jim Stafford’s Wildwood Weed.

I will probably think of a bunch more stories after I send this. But then, if I wait to get them all down, I’ll never send this.

I just looked through a few old emails we’d sent each other. I sent him the following quote:

The way you make love is the way God will be with you. — Jalai ad-Din Rumi

Vic will be doing just fine in heaven.

John Lyman

Being much younger, I did not really know my eldest cousin Victor very well. I do remember a few brief encounters, and I certainly remember my Aunt Fran and Uncle Bud. I felt sufficiently kindred to write to Victor just a few years ago about a Chicago bluegrass musician of some note whom I knew, and was heartened to receive his thoughtful reply. I would have like to be there today for Victor's memorial, to enjoy the music, a first visit to North Carolina, good food and company, and perhaps the acquaintance of a lost relative or two. In my stead, I'll offer this memorium.

Reading the brief bio of Victor on the Celebration web site, I lament the lost opportunities to talk with him about some of our shared experiences such as his time at our U of Illinois alma mater, seafaring on the Great Lakes, my own bartending experience in a Chicago blues club and those musicians whom I got to know, about live music – especially blues, reggae and bluegrass, and about much time spent in Jamaica. We might have talked about mutual interests in early computers or anthropology. I can only imagine those conversations and listen to some memories of friends and family.

Victor must have been one cool dude. I'll dedicate a song and dance.

Pam Linder

I remember meeting Vic on my front porch, having a party with Vic, Michael Melford and Mr Rigsbee playing tunes. My favorite was Carolina Sunshine Girl, of course. And then he became my brother-in-law, and there were kids for him, not me, and then we both became outlaws to the incredible Martell clan Often times when I would visit, I would stay at Vic's and we would play songs, mostly of his choosing... and whatever song he was working on that day, we would play over and over with Vic picking breaks in all kinds of innovative ways. He took me to an incredible New Year's Eve party first one with a bonfire and then a jam with great musicians, and me. I loved it. Oh, and at the dancing, first at contra dances. They wanted him to be a clogger, ...but not me, so that didn't happen... and then swing dances where he always made me look good. It makes me cry to think back on all the memories. I hope I can play a song for him today....

Chloris Noelke-Olson

I met Victor at Bob Driver's wonderful Swing/Country/Jazz jam at Clifftop many years back. I love music from the 30s-50s and they played a lot of it. Vic knew some splendid obscure songs which he played and sang with skill and heart, and Tom Riley played lap steel like an angel. It was the only jam going on at Clifftop that was not Old-Time music, and since our camp was directly across a swale from Bob Driver's, I could hear numbers like 'I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter', Hoagy Carmichael's 'Hong Kong Blues', and burn-up jams on 'Back Home in Indiana'. It was a wonderful way to fall asleep. I was in late teens when the Folk boom happened in Chicago and went to a lot of events in small, forgotten bars and coffee houses, and I have no doubt that we were in some of the same places at the same time. I just found out about his death from Bob. Covid stopped the Clifftop Festival for several years, and I didn't make it back until 2023. So I just heard, and was very sad to hear of his death, and missed his presence at the night time jam.