All this and root beer, too! A report from the revived Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas

Proof I made it to Iola, Kansas—taken not at the Bowlus Fine Arts Center, but at a long-closed movie theater just off the town's main square.

There's nothing more American than a second act. Buster Keaton certainly enjoyed one, reinventing himself as a TV performer after falling from movie stardom.

So it's only fitting that an annual gathering bearing his name should have a second act as well.

I'm referring to the Buster Keaton Celebration, held each year in late September in the small town of Iola, Kansas, not far from Keaton's rural birthplace.

The annual gathering ground to a halt in 2017 after 24 years. It was good run—but nothing goes on forever, right?

However, this year saw the reemergence of the Keaton Celebration. What's more, organizers intend to resume holding the event on an annual basis.

They also plan to remake the event's format to involve the local community and create more interest among Keaton fans.

Can this be done? That remains to be seen. But for now, here's a report on this year's Celebration, which I attended on Friday and Saturday, Sept. 24 & 25.

As a silent film accompanist, I had been to several past Keaton Celebrations, including what everyone thought was the final one in 2017, where the mood was one of rueful acceptance. 

In 2018, a one-off Keaton program was held in Kansas City. But it really wasn't a continuation of the Iola event. And after that, all was quiet on the Kansas Keaton front, at least publicly.

But behind the scenes, talks were underway to resume Iola's Keaton Celebration. The relaunch might have taken place in 2020 if not for the Covid-19 pandemic.

I didn't know about this until about a year ago (word travels slow from Kansas to New Hampshire), when I learned the event was being revived for 2021. Later, I was thrilled to be invited to accompany some of films, with the prestigious Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra also appearing. 

Along the way, the lingering pandemic nearly torpedoed the 2021 gathering. For a time, organizers considered an all-virtual model. 

But in the end, a hybrid approach was taken, with the Celebration going ahead as scheduled on Friday, Sept. 24 and Saturday, Sept. 25.

The program unfolded at its longtime Iola home, the Bowlus Fine Arts Center. At the same time, all events were streamed and available online for virtual attendees. 

The theme? "Buster Keaton in Changing Times," with a classy logo done as always by the talented Carol Yoho, who has attended every Keaton Celebration since the very first one back in 1993.

What was it like? Here's a brief and idiosyncratic report from the perspective of a piano player invited to accompany some of the silent films on the program. 

First, it was nice to be back. After the "last" Keaton Celebration in 2017, I thought I'd never see Iola again. But here I was, among landmarks such as the town square ("biggest west of the Mississippi River!") and the A&W Restaurant. 

Iola, by the way, is home to an enormous facility that produces Russell Stover candies for shipment all over the nation. So if you've ever wondered where all those boxes of Whitman's Samplers at your local CVS come from, it's likely Iola. 

Iola: Proud origin of Russell Stover candies!

I was eager to meet Dan Kays, director of the Bowlus Center, whose hiring in 2018 was an important step on the road to reviving the Keaton Celebration. Working with many long-time Celebration supporters, Dan has proposed a 10-year plan to help the event thrive and take it in new directions.

When I arrived at the Bowlus late Thursday afternoon, I didn't find Dan, but I did find my way (via an unlocked back door) into the darkened main auditorium, where the Celebration would take place. So I sat down and got reacquainted with the Henry Miller grand piano that lives in the "pit" area. 

I'm glad I did. The Miller is a fine instrument, but its touch is really heavy, or at least heavier than I'm used to, and without the graceful action of a Steinway. So just working with it for a half-hour can go a long way toward calibrating one's playing, of which I would do a lot over the next two days.

Friday morning I arrived before the 9 a.m. start to find Dan up on the podium testing the sound system. Throughout the two days, Dan was a whirlwind of activity, dealing with all aspects of the Keaton program plus the whole online version, which turned out to be a real challenge. 

In the small world department, turns out Dan's wife was recently an administrator at Mary Magdalen College, a small Catholic liberal arts school in Warner, N.H., where I've played for several silent film programs!

I was engaged primarily as the "day" pianist, brought in to provide live music for a grab bag of short comedies on Friday and Saturday. Rodney Sauer and Mont Alto handled the evening programs, although Rodney and I did swap around a bit.

Besides accompanying the movies, I also contributed occasional fill-in music for the program, such as playing "Hail to the Chief" when Iola's mayor took the podium.

Me at the Henry Miller. Photo by Jim Reid.

First up was Keaton's short 'The Playhouse' (1921), in celebration of the 100th anniversary of its release. You never quite know how things will go until a film starts, but I had good material ready and the music came together nicely, I thought. 

What was really interesting, though, was a presentation after by Prof. Frank Scheide, longtime Keaton Celebration participant and chairman of the committee, who walked us all through the actual vaudeville acts that Buster was sending up in 'The Playhouse.'

'The Playhouse,' which I first became acquainted with via a Super-8mm print from Blackhawk Films in the 1970s, is funny on its own terms. But there's so much more to it when you learn about the well-known acts that Buster was parodying in his comedy, and which audiences of the day would have recognized.

Take the "Zouaves" precision marching act that appears in 'The Playhouse.' Totally unknown today, in the 1920s they were a popular vaudeville touring act, descended from a U.S. Civil War regiment that itself was based on French military units in Algeria during the 19th century.

Frank, who is on the University of Arkansas faculty, dug up a film of the original Zouave troupe going through its routines—and astonishingly, they were almost exactly as depicted in Keaton's comedy. (Although in 'The Playhouse,' things soon go disastrously wrong.) 

The film was silent promotional footage, and after it started running, Frank beckoned to me from the stage: "Jeff, do you know any Zouave music?" So I hopped over to the piano and rattled off what I hoped was convincing Zouave music for the rest of the footage. 

Later that morning, I jumped in again when the sound system failed to function for a live on-stage rendition of the famous "Nairobi Trio" routine of Ernie Kovacs. Involving three performers dressed as apes, the pantomime routine is always done to "Solfeggio," a bizarre Robert Maxwell 1950s recording for harp, singers, orchestra, and bongo drums. 

A vintage video clip of the 'Nairobi Trio.'

The performers (wearing ape masks and heavy coats) entered and assumed their positions. But the music didn't happen. It wasn't clear at first what was going on, but after much confused gesturing, the troupe got up and left the stage.

As a lifelong Kovacs fan, I knew the routine well enough, and felt I could find my way on the piano, even without having ever played it before. So I volunteered to do it live, and Dan (who was at the podium) said okay, so off we went.

It didn't quite come out totally right, but was enough to get the players through most of the routine. I can't imagine how it came across to the online audience, but those at the Bowlus seemed to enjoy it.

The other short that morning was 'Backstage' (1919), one of the better Fatty Arbuckle comedies with Keaton in a supporting role. This one is full of dance, all of it played for pure comedy, so on the spur of the moment I started out with the famous 'Swan Lake' theme from Tchaikovsky's well-known ballet score.

I felt it provided a nice ironic introduction to all the wildness to come. And eventually, when thing did get wild, 'Swan Lake' returned in a rag-timey version with jacked-up tempo that I thought was pretty effective.  

Another unexpected task came that afternoon. Rodney Sauer of Mont Alto gave a presentation on silent film scoring, and he asked me to demonstrate an improvised score to a short passage from King Vidor's 'The Patsy' (1928). So I did!

Rodney then ran the same sequence with Mont Alto's compiled score, and then again with a full orchestra taking a very different approach, underlining all the action with musical outbursts that's sometimes called "Mickey Mousing" in the accompaniment world.

Buster, best friend (at left) and mortal enemy in 'Our Hospitality.'

The evening's program was 'Our Hospitality' (1923) with music by Mont Alto. I was surprised to learn many attendees had never seen the film before! I think I've accompanied it four times this year so far, and seen it several other times with other music. It's as familiar to me as my back yard, but it's important to remember how this is definitely not the case for 99.9% of people.

The next day saw two more Keaton shorts in the morning: 'Convict 13' and 'Neighbors,' both from 1920. Both were a lot of fun, with a jazzy underscoring working well for Buster's prison scenes in 'Convict 13.'

A Saturday highlight was lunch with Rodney Sauer and well-known film collector Jim Reid, who came up from Dallas to attend the Celebration. We drove to, yes, the Iola A&W Restaurant, where we enjoyed root beer served in frosted glass mugs.

That evening, I got to do music for the Keaton short 'Cops' (1922), which I felt went okay. I really tried hard to take a "less is more" approach, using the simplest possible texture to start and then build gradually as Buster's misadventures spiral wider and wider. 

Playing for 'Cops' (1922). The sheet music belongs to Rodney Sauer, who would lead Mont Alto in a compiled score for Keaton's 'Three Ages.'

Mont Alto then delivered a crackerjack score for Buster's feature 'Three Ages' (1923), and that was it. The 26th annual Keaton Celebration was in the books—thanks to the pandemic, not exactly what organizers had envisioned, but still revived and back in business. 

But for how long? Dan Kays has spoken of a ten-year plan, and that's probably a good thing, because it takes time for a long-running event to evolve to reflect different needs and changing times. 

So, in an effort to be helpful, here are some uninvited observations.

It's my observation that a lot of what drove the Keaton Celebration for its first 20 years was the special opportunity for attendees, both fans and scholars, to interact with major figures from the entertainment world who knew or worked with Keaton, who died in 1966.

Such folks were still around in quantity when the festival started in 1993. But time has passed, and almost anyone who knew or worked with Buster has now joined him in the great Green Room in the Sky. That direction connection has faded.

Keaton family members also made regular appearances, which was always a special element of the Iola event. This continues: this year was attended in person by Keaton's nephew Harry Keaton Jr., while Buster's daughter-in-law Barbara Talmadge and granddaughter Melissa Talmadge Cox attended virtually.

Still, time is passing. Keaton's widow Eleanor attended the event twice in the 1990s before she passed away in 1998. Harry is now past 80. Barbara is 96. It would be great if Keaton family members continue to be involved, but the Celebration can't rely too heavily on that element year after year without it getting to seem a little repetitive.

On screen: Keaton's daughter-in-law Barbara Talmadge and her daughter Melissa Talmadge Cox, committee member Hooman Mehran, and emcee Bruce Symes; on stage, from left: Lisa Geisler, daughter of Keaton's nephew Harry Keaton Jr., and Frank Scheide.

At the same time: just as I have to remember that most people have never seen 'Our Hospitality' (1923), most people interested in Keaton have not had a chance to meet any members of his family. It's a rare treat (I remember how thrilled I was to take Melissa out to lunch one day about 10 years ago) and their tradition of being part of the Iola event is a strong card in the Celebration's hand.

So I think here it's really a question of striking the right balance.

One curious element of the Keaton Celebration is that for many years, it was supported financially by the Kansas Humanities Council. This meant it was always been heavy on lectures and talks from visiting academics, and panel discussions among experts—all worthwhile, but not as entertaining as a Keaton comedy on the screen.

As a relative newcomer to the event (first attending in 2012), I felt this need to structure it as  something of a scholarly symposium, or at least to conform to an academic view of the humanities, was a curious way to put together a Buster Keaton Celebration.

Why? Because academic conferences are fine, but they're not ever going to draw or satisfying large general audiences. They really can't be the basis of a popular, well-attended event of this type. In this instance, less could be more.  

However, the presentation by Frank Scheide on the vaudeville routines in 'The Playhouse' was lively and informative and really added value to the event. So there's a balance to be struck here too, it seems.

I was given an unexpected chance to speak during this year's Celebration, and the one point I tried to make was that the event has a future. 

Me yakking from the piano bench. Another photo by Jim Reid. I didn't get a chance to take many photos, other than of the Russell Stover candy plant, so apologies for the lack of images.

Why? Because of Buster. His audience isn't shrinking or fading out. Rather, a century after what's recognized as his best work, his audience seems to be growing.

Really. I accompany more than 100 silent film programs each year, and the Keaton titles are the most frequently requested and the most well-attended.  

Young people (who generally believe any film before 'Star Wars' is pre-history) love Keaton and respond readily to his work. 

In this sense, it was great to see some high school students attend for a brief period on Friday afternoon. I think it would have been much better for them to see one of the Keaton features with live music, which is what young people really respond to, I've found. But it's a start.

So the Keaton Celebration holds another crucial card in its hand: Buster himself. If it can evolve to continue to showcase his work to new generations of fans, the event will thrive and prosper for a long time to come. 

The proximity to his birthplace is great, and can always be used to keep a sense of "pilgrimage" associated with the event. It's a claim that no other event or place can make. 

But more important are the basics: show Buster's films as they were intended to be shown: on a big screen, in the best restored prints, with live music, and—most importantly—an audience. 

When I talked with him, Dan Kays spoke of future Keaton programs that involve the local community more, in keeping with the original mission of the Bowlus to serve as a cultural resource for the region.

So ideas for future Buster Keaton Celebrations include showcasing the work of local filmmakers, involving students from local high schools, and just finding ways for the Iola community to become engaged. 

More of that, and the Keaton Celebration will not just be revived, but reinvented. 

After all, Keaton's motion picture artistry is timeless. Why can't this annual event possess the same quality?

And let's finish off with some A&W root beer served in a frosty cold mug. Wonder if they get this in Pordenone?

Celebrating the Celebration: Thoughts on thefinal Buster Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas

From the stage: attendees of the 24th and last-ever Buster Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas on Saturday, Sept. 30, 2017.

They still called it a "Celebration," same as always.

But it was also the end of a tradition. So something else was at work—something unspoken, and on the edges, but definitely present.

That was the mood, I felt, at the final Buster Keaton Celebration, a long-running annual gathering held each September in Iola, Kansas, not far from Buster's birthplace.

It's been my privilege to attend several past editions of this festival. And for this final year, it was a special honor to be invited to accompany some of the films being shown.

But after a quarter-century of celebrating the most silent of the great silent clowns, this was it—as it says at the finish of nearly every movie: "The End."

So here's my own idiosyncratic wrap-up of a special annual gathering that for years materialized Brigadoon-like on the prairie on the last weekend of each September, but will do so no more.

And let me say right at the start: this post runs on for a bit, but there's simply no way to mention or do justice to so many people who are part of this event. I apologize in advance for not highlighting everyone's contributions in an appropriate manner.

* * *

This year's program.

Why no more Keaton Celebration?

A long-running festival closes up shop for many reasons. But to sum up: things change.

In this case, I understand a key factor was the future unavailability of the Bowlus Center, a marvelous arts venue that you wouldn't expect to find in a town the size of Iola, pop. 5,704.

But the Bowlus has served as a terrific host for the Keaton Celebration since the very first one in 1993, according to an online history by co-founder Clyde Toland.

The history, by the way, captures the upbeat spirit that got the Celebration going, and saw it quickly mushroom into an annual gathering that brought hundreds of people to Iola.

That still happens. But I gather financial considerations have taken their toll behind the scenes, especially lately. One sign: after long being free and open to all, in recent year a registration fee has been charged for some of the programming.

It's not my place to draw any conclusions in this area, other than to observe that such events take a lot of resources to pull off. And, alas, we are not in an age of generous financial support for arts-related activities.

* * *
Even with the final curtain ready to fall, this year's Celebration was full of good cheer and fun right from the beginning.

I wasn't sure what to expect, as a big part of the attraction and charm of this event, in my eyes, is its reliable predictability. Once a year, no matter what else happens, it's great to see old friends, make new ones, and know we'll see each other again next year.

Curiously, that dynamic still seemed to be active, even without the promise of another actual Celebration. From the time I arrived, it was great to see everyone, and to make new friends such as well-known writers Scott Eyman and Lynn Kalber, with whom I had pizza the first night.

I arrived on Thursday, in time to take in a pre-Celebration screening that evening of 'Bender,' a film about the notorious family of serial killers in 1870s Kansas.

Shot on location in Kansas and shown at the Bowlus, the film featured actor James Karen in the lead role of John "Pa" Bender. (Celebration organizer Bill Shaffer also appeared as an extra!)

Karen, who as a young man worked with Keaton, is a long-time friend of the Celebration, frequently attending and sharing recollections and good cheer.

Alas, he's now 93, and couldn't be on hand this year.

But seeing him on screen, not in person, prompted thoughts of how few people are around now with any direct connection to Buster, who died in 1966.

That's more than a half-century ago. And that's another factor in the arc of this Celebration's life.

At the start, I don't think anyone imagined it would evolve into such a major deal, attracting fans and scholars from all around the country and, indeed, the globe.

But it grew to where actual Keaton friends and family members began attending, lending the gatherings a richness and closeness to Buster that was truly unique in its spirit and scope.

Now, time was inevitably fraying those threads.

Yes, this year's attendees included Keaton's granddaughter Melissa, her mother (and Keaton's daughter-in-law) Barbara Talmadge, and nephew Harry Keaton, all of whom generously shared recollection of Buster and the family.

But the ranks of the Buster's direct acquaintances are thinning, thus dimming a unique aspect of the Keaton Celebration. Increasingly, it was a reunion that people weren't able to attend.

Maybe this is how things work, I thought. New generations of fans need to find their own way to celebrate—but I'm getting ahead of myself.

* * *
On Friday morning, I had to work (the curse of remote access) and so wasn't able to join the annual pilgrimage to Buster's actual birthplace: in Piqua (pronounced "Pick-way"), a rural crossroads a few miles west of Iola on Route 54.

The house Buster where Buster made his first appearance (in 1895) is no longer standing. But the community boasts a Keaton museum, and each year it's been a tradition to open the Celebration with a visit and group picture.

I joined attendees back at the Bowlus for a thank you lunch organized by executive director Susan Raines and her staff. (No, thank you!)

In terms of programming, past Celebrations often paired Keaton with other film stars as a jumping off point: Chaplin or Fatty Arbuckle, and sometimes less obvious choices such as television pioneer Ernie Kovacs.

But this year's event, subtitled "Celebrating 100 Years of Laughter," was all Keaton. Programming was light on the on-stage forums and panels, and heavy on the movies.
Consider: four full-length features, a half-dozen shorts, and other material that needed live music. Hence the need for three accompanists: me, the accomplished Ben Model of New York, and local stalwart Marvin Faulwell of Kansas City, a regular at silent film events in this part of the country.

Three musicians: Ben Model, Marvin Faulwell, and me.

It's funny: some people seem to think there's some kind of rivalry among accompanists, but that's not my experience at all. Rather, we seem to go out of our way to support one another.

And I love events where more than one musician or group is on the program, as it provides a chance to hear how other people practice the craft and also to enjoy some film just like any other audience member. So for me, that was one of the best elements of the weekend: to hear music done by others live in a darkened theater.

Let me take a moment now to tip my metaphorical hat to the crew at the Bowlus, who could not have been more helpful to me and the other musicians.

When I arrived on Thursday, a beautifully maintained Henry F. Miller grand piano was already in position after being freshly tuned that day. (Nice, but won't last long with me banging away, I thought.)

And the tech crew were happy to let me in early to position the instrument, set up lights, position the lid, and run through some exercises to check volume levels and get a feel for the piano.

At the Celebration's Friday afternoon opening, I had drawn the first film: 'The Butcher Boy' (1917), a Fatty Arbuckle two-reeler in which Keaton makes his very first screen appearance.

So I was sitting at the keyboard during an opening video (done by Celebration organizer Keith Goering) welcoming everyone, and was surprised to find the recorded music used for it was an orchestral version of Chopin's well-known "Military Polonaise" for piano.

Weird! It's exactly the piece I happen to be working on right now, and which I had been running though earlier just for practice. What are the odds?

So I tried a few chords and the recording was in the same key, and the piano's tuning matched the orchestral pitch. So I was able to help kick things off with a little keyboard obbligato, playing along with the Chopin, which might have made me seem a much more competent musician than I really am. Well, a good start, anyway.

After welcoming remarks, we went right into 'The Butcher Boy,' which I tried not to butcher. With a slapstick short like this, I tend to treat the piano like the percussion instrument that it is.

For this film, as with the others, I used a couple of pre-planned themes to draw upon and improvise my way through the action.

Buster's first appearance and his "molasses" routine with Arbuckle get all the attention, and deservedly so. But I think the second half, in which both Fatty and Al St. John impersonate young girls, is the best stuff in the picture.

* * *

Stone Age Buster takes a bath in 'Three Ages.'

This was followed by 'Cops,' which Marvin accompanied on a digital keyboard he'd brought and which was hooked into the Bowlus sound system.

Marvin did an inspired job with this familiar classic, and his keyboard settings often reminded me of the sound of the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra, for years a mainstay of the Keaton Celebration but not on the program this year.

I don't know if Marvin intended this as a tribute to the group, but it came off as an elegant one to me.

And there the program rocketed right along. And maybe that's one reason why the Celebration was as much fun as always: there simply wasn't time to ponder the end.

Soon Ben Model was at the keyboard, bringing to life the first feature of the weekend (and Keaton's first as well), 'Three Ages' (1923).

Ben doesn't often use recognizable tunes in his scoring, as it can be argued that they take the audience out of the movie. I tend to agree with him.

So when a Roman-era Keaton looks at his team of tired horses and imagines them in blankets labeled "Sparkplug," I was surprised, and very much delighted, when Ben launched into a spirited snippet of the old "Barney Google" novelty song.

I'm not sure how many people would make the connection of Barney Google and Sparkplug, his hapless steed, but it really served to underline the joke effectively and make it pop.

To me, it was great example of an accompanist knowing when to break his own self-imposed rules if the film and the circumstances of the joke, merited it. Nice!

Ben's 'Three Ages' music earned a well-deserved ovation.

But I thought he then topped it with improv music for a selection of rare Keaton clips that followed.

Provided by archivist Rob Arkus, the collection started with silent-era materials that Ben brought to life quite effectively.

It then transitioned into some later television-era clips. This part started with a sequence with an aging Keaton dancing the tango, and came with recorded sound, so Ben turned off the piano light.

But the sound didn't come. So after a few moments of silence, Ben clicked the light back on and started tango-ing it up.

And it worked really well—the audience, me included, roared at the sight of Keaton playing Valentino on the dance floor.

Before long, the screen went dark as the tech crew attempted to access a different file that did have the soundtrack. And during this time, Ben had to do what all accompanists are fated to do, I think: entertain the crowd during "Please Stand By" technical difficulties.

Prior to this weekend in Iola, the best example I'd ever witnessed of this was some years back at Cinefest in Syracuse (another festival now gone, alas), when accompanist Andrew E. Simpson filled in during a projection booth mishap by channeling his inner Chico Marx, pistol-shooting finger technique and all. (That's Chico, not Andrew, in the photo.)

Talk about knowing your audience—there's probably no better way to endear one's self to a room of classic film buffs!

But on Friday afternoon in Iola, Ben at least equaled that with ragtime that quickly evolved into a full-scale rendition of a tune some know as Gershwin's "Rialto Ripples," but which Keaton Celebration attendees immediately recognized as the Ernie Kovacs theme music.

True Keaton fanatics, such as those those filled the Bowlus, appreciated with Kovacs connection and Ben's ties to his wife Edie Adams, so well-deserved cheers rang out. Nice!

Funny thing was, when we got the tango-dancing Keaton with recorded sound, I found it not nearly as compelling as it was the first time around, with just acoustic music. And this wasn't because I'd already seen it—I genuinely sense it didn't work as well.

Well, maybe there's something to the idea that Keaton's way of performing was so grounded in the silent era technique, that there really was something different about synchronized sound that diluted his effectiveness.

So even what's regarded as "lesser" silent Keaton, such as 'Spite Marriage' (1929), is a different species (and perhaps on a different plane) than anything he did with synchronized sound, brilliant or otherwise. The silent medium just suited his comedy much better.

More on 'Spite Marriage' below, as it was shown later in the Celebration.

Dinner break found a big group of us crowding into El Charro, a Mexican place a few blocks up the street that's been a Keaton Celebration mainstay for many years.

And it's worth mentioning here the important role that lunch and dinner breaks played at the Keaton Celebration. Chance encounters at the hotel, also—these are where you got to meet and chat with people who were likely to become lifetime friends.

In Kurt Vonnegut's book 'Cat's Cradle' (1963), one of the tenets of a made-up religion is: "Peculiar traveling suggestions are dancing lessons from God." Well, in Iola, going out to eat with total strangers was the catalyst for discovering friends you didn't know you had.

And it was, as we all tried the limited venues that Iola had to accommodate visitors: the B & B Cafe for breakfast (way too much food for $6); the vintage A&W restaurant (what, is it 1963 again?); Rookie's Sports Bar (how many of you?); Dudley's Done-Right BBQ (again, way too much food), and so many other familiar gathering places.

I never thought life would get me to the point where I could made informed restaurant recommendations for Iola, Kansas. But if you're going through town, give me a call.

* * *

Original promotional art for 'The Cameraman.'

Back at the Bowlus, Friday night was my big time at bat: doing music for Keaton's feature 'The Cameraman' (1928).

This was a special assignment, I felt, for 'The Cameraman' was the film that got me back into silent film some years ago after a long absence.

How? Because in the last days of winter in the year 2000, I made my way out to the Kansas Silent Film Festival (held each year in Topeka), primarily to hear the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra perform live.

And the first film they played for was Keaton's 'Cameraman.' And that Saturday morning, all at once it seemed to triggered infinity and reignite something that had been dormant within me.

What a film! Made right at the end of the silent era, to me it was proof that the medium was still ripe for creative approaches that filmmakers were only just beginning to realize. What a celebration of possibility and creativity and so much else!

And then the whole medium was gone. But what way to go out! And for me, Rodney Sauer and Mont Alto were a part of that.

So here I was at the Bowlus, 17 years later, preparing to do 'The Cameraman.' And this seemed odd to me, as the Mont Alto group were a Keaton Celebration mainstay until recent years, when (I guess) tight budgets and other factors prevented them from attending.

Well, off I went, and it all came together pretty well, I thought. It's hard to judge from the keyboard, but audience reaction was strong, and I felt the thematic material I was using made for some nice moments.

At the film's ending, response was generous. Photographer Steve Friedman tried to engineer a shot from the stage with people applauding (presumably) behind me, but after the film the lights never came up in the Bowlus, so it'll be interesting to see what Friedman's blinding flash captured.

* * *

Dorothy Sebastian and Buster in 'Spite Marriage.'

Saturday brought a full day of Keaton films and forums. But musically, my heavy lifting was done. Ben and Marvin would do the features ('College' in the morning for Marvin, and 'Spite Marriage' for Ben that night). All I had was afternoon improv for more rare Keaton materials, these contributed by archivist Paul Gierucki.

One surprise was to find that Ben wasn't too sure about 'Spite Marriage,' the Celebration's final Keaton feature. MGM released the film (Keaton's last silent) to theaters in 1929 with what's widely regarded as an annoying recorded score. So it's always had a reputation as "lesser" Keaton.

In my efforts to work through the entire Keaton output, I had programmed 'Spite' some years ago with a "let's get this over with" attitude. To my surprise, the film killed! The audience, not aware they were seeing "lesser" anything, laughed uproariously at one comic set piece after another. My respect for the film increased.

I related this to Ben, who seemed surprised. In his 30-plus years of doing film music, he'd never had a chance to accompany 'Spite Marriage,' and really wasn't sure how it would go over. Well, I hope I gave him at least some encouragement for that night's performance.

For me, the big deal of Saturday was the first-ever screening of 'To Be Funny' (2017), a new documentary exploring the phenomenon of Keaton's continued popularity 100 years after his 'Butcher Boy' walk-on.

Filmmakers Jess Roseboom and Gavin Rosenberg approached me several years ago about filming some of my New Hampshire performances and talking with audience members. So they came up, sat me down before a camera, and got me yakking.

They then pursued the project at Keaton screenings and gatherings all across the nation, including a visit to Iola. They also came back to New Hampshire to film me presenting a Keaton program to students of Great Brook Middle School in Antrim, N.H.

After a Kickstarter campaign and a lot of other work, they'd finished the film. And now it was time to enter it into festivals and do all the things you can do with a documentary of this type.

And as it turned out, the very first screening of the film would be here, at the very last Keaton Celebration at the Bowlus Center in Iola.

I thought it was kind of poetic, in a way, that this final event would host the premiere of a documentary highlighting Keaton's enduring—indeed, growing—popularity.

Because the filmmakers couldn't be there, they asked me to introduce it and say a few words.

Introducing 'To Be Funny' onstage at the Bowlus. Photo by Carol Yoho.

So I took the occasion to say it was an honor to present this film, as to me it showed that although the Keaton Celebration may be winding down, it was part of a larger continuity that would continue on, in part because of what had taken place in Iola.

Everything has a season, and we should all take heart that the love for Keaton which brought so many people to Iola and to each other would continue to do so far into the future.

Or something like that. And then I sat down to watch the film.

And you know, you couldn't have asked for a better venue or occasion to screen this film. It looked great on the big Bowlus screen—razor sharp with vibrant colors, making the lingering landscape shots appear just gorgeous.

And yes, everything in it seemed to validate all the energy and affection that had gone into staging the Keaton Celebration for lo these many years. It was a great summing up, with a hard spin to a hopeful future.

Of course it was a kick to see the scenes they shot in Iola—the annual trip to Piqua, the group photo, and also the Mont Alto group playing for 'Battling Butler' back at the Bowlus.

It was, frankly, mortifying to see my face 15 feet high on a screen and hear myself drone on. But they had questions, and I tried to answer them. I hope my appearance at least had the effect of making the other interviewees look smarter as a result.

But any bumbling on my part was more than made up for, I felt, by the moments of community and shared passion that the filmmakers captured around the nation. I never thought watching shots of people who themselves were watching movies would be so—well, moving.

But they were, and more than once I was honestly choked up by how it all came together for me—there, at the Bowlus, at the Keaton Celebration, immersed in an on-screen celebration of something that was so important to so many people all around me. What a great way to celebration the Celebration.

Wow!

* * *

Iola's huge town square, billed as "America's largest."

There was another meal after this (surprise!)—a wonderful impromptu gathering at Rookie's Sports Bar, on Iola's enormous town square. (Equal to four full blocks!)

What kind of people attend the Keaton Celebration? The kind of people who, when they find out it happens to be your 22nd wedding anniversary, insist on calling your wife back in New Hampshire to inform her that you're having a Chicago-style hotdog in honor of her hometown.

(For the record, she couldn't attend because she had to work, and we had already celebrated. Also, Iola's version of a "Chicago" hot dog, heavy on grilled peppers, was something I don't think you'd find in the Windy City. But it was good!)

Carol Yoho and I sample Porubsky's hot pickles fresh from the cardboard box. Photo by Jane Bartholomew.

These are the same people, by the way, who went all the way to Porubsky's Deli in Topeka (about two hours away) to bring me an order of their famous hot pickles, which I really enjoy. Thanks, Jane and Karl!

And then the final evening program featuring 'Spite Marriage' with Ben at the keyboard.

People roared at the movie. You could tell this rarely screened title was a discovery for many. What a great choice to end with!

The final final film was a curiously truncated version of 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum' (1966), which was Buster's last big-screen appearance.

The sprawling musical was edited down to 50 minutes (from 1½ hours) to highlight Buster's sporadic appearances as 'Erronius.'

But it worked, and we all laughed a lot.

And then the lights went up, and then back down, and we were then treated to another wonderful montage (again created by Keith Goering) of Keaton Celebration imagery, this time set to the old tune 'We'll Meet Again.'

Then it was off the afterglow and more food and drinks and laughter, as always.

And then I blinked, and suddenly it was Sunday morning. And it was over.

Very clever of those Keaton Celebration folks—to pack the schedule with so much good stuff that there wasn't time to give in to feelings of sadness that were lurking just at the edges of this year's events.

That potential sadness was the unspoken part. And how fitting, at this celebration honoring a silent film clown, for it to never get a chance to raise its voice at all.

Thanks to everyone who over the years made it possible for so many people to come to Iola, Kansas and share our appreciate for Buster and his world.

That world includes Iola, and in my mind it always will, Celebration or not.

Rounding up a few loose ends prior to the Buster Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas

Just back from Utica, N.Y., where I did music on Saturday night for Harold Lloyd's 'Speedy' (1928) at The Munson-Williams-Proctor Arts Institute, a really nifty museum.

Harold killed, as usual. And what a pleasure to be present as yet another audience discovered this film!

Next up: heading out to Iola, Kansas this weekend for the annual Buster Keaton Celebration, held not far from Buster's birthplace in Piqua, Kansas.

While there, I'll get to hear accompanists Ben Model and Marvin Falwell do music for several Keaton features and short comedies. Looking forward to it!

And me—I'll accompany Keaton's 'The Cameraman' (1928) and my share of short comedies, too.

But I also get to introduce a new documentary, 'To Be Funny,' a contemporary look at Buster's enduring popularity.

Why me? Because I'm actually in it, and the filmmakers couldn't be on hand, so they asked me to do the honors.

It's the first time the film will be shown publicly. But to see a bit in advance, the trailer is posted online.

Also online is a new feature article on silent film music and my approach to it.

Published by the Boston Arts Fuse, it was written by Ken Bader, who did a very thorough job interviewing me and pulling this piece together. Thanks, Ken!

Also while I'm out in Kansas, I hope to hop across the border for a long run in Oklahoma. If I'm successful, this will make Oklahoma No. 34 in my quest to run a minimum of 10K in all 50 states.

If you'd like details, check out a page on my Running the 234 blog.

When I get back from Kansas, we'll be entering the busiest time of the year for a silent film accompanist—the weeks leading up to Halloween.

And yes, I have something like 12 shows in the two weeks prior to Oct. 31. Scary!

To keep the Halloween season from becoming a 'Nosferatu' marathon, each year I try to pull a worthy thriller from the shadows and give it a chance at some screen time.

This year, it's the original silent film version of 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' (1922), starring John Barrymore and a surprisingly scary piece of vintage cinema.

But things worked out where I'm also accompanying a couple of screenings of 'The Man Who Laughs' (1928), the terrific Paul Leni film starring Conrad Veidt.

So it make for a spooky good time.

And remember: in silent film, no one can hear you scream.

Saturday, Sept. 28, 2013: Day 5 on the road / Iola, Kansas

That's me flanked by Barbara Talmadge (Buster Keaton's daughter-in-law) and Melissa Talmadge Cox, Buster's granddaugther, after accompanying a screening of 'Seven Chances' (1925).

Heavy lifting today: live music for two feature films plus a good amount of impromptu fill-in. At daybreak, torrential rains as thunderstorms moved through. Worked all morning, then attended the afternoon Keaton Celebration sessions at the Bowlus Center.

First up was Kate Guyonvarch of the Chaplin Office with archive materials about Chaplin's film 'Limelight' (1952), a presentation highlighted by a clip of the scene with Keaton and Chaplin performing together.

Then came an on-stage conversation with Melissa Talmadge Cox (Buster's granddaughter) and Buster's daughter-in-law Barbara Talmadge, who played tennis on Charlie Chaplin's court and is still going strong as she closes in on 90.

Barbara tells a good story, and I hope someone sits down and thoroughly interviews her at some point. Both ladies had stories not only of Buster, but also the two "aunts," Norma Talmadge and Constance "Dutch" Talmadge.

And then I was up with music for 'Her Sister From Paris' (1925), a funny battle-of-the-sexes romantic comedy starring Dutch and Ronald Colman. It's set in Vienna, and includes a couple specific references to "The Blue Danube" waltz, so I had to get that under my fingers and ready to go.

Things fell together quite naturally, helped by the excellent condition of the Bowlus Center's 1911 Steinway grand. What a joy to skip among those keys! It really makes a difference in terms of what kind of music you can do.

The highlight for me was a sequence where a sidekick character is asked to go play a piano to cover the noise of Talmadge and Colman stealing away. He indulges in some kind of intense romantic ballad (to express his own longing for Connie), and that's what I played, even though most of the footage was devoted to the two would-be lovers.

And then, after the plot threads were tied up, I brought back the romantic ballad music for real underneath the closing scenes, which I felt lent a really effective touch. Sometimes that happens!

Near the end, I began to get that feeling that I was in fact nailing it, which is always a rush. Response was very generous, and folks afterwards had some very kind words to say about the music.

Then dinner at El Charro, a Mexican place in downtown Iola, and then back to the Bowlus for 'Seven Chances' (1925) preceded by a mixed bag of short subjects and other material.

Got laughs when Bill Shaffer announced that they'd try to keep on schedule, and I snuck in with the opening bar of Handel's 'Hallelujah' chorus. Also when Kate Guyonvarch came up to translate the French titles in the rediscovered footage from Keaton's 'Blacksmith' and I launched into the opening bars of "La Marseille."

We saw a few minutes of newly rediscovered footage of Keaton and Joe Roberts in 'The Blacksmith' that was quite good. And I had a good time doing music for Chaplin's 'One a.m.,' which I didn't realize I'd be doing and hadn't seen in years.

Also on the program: improvised music for a nice video tribute to festival co-founder Fred Krebs, who passed away last December. There was also music to go with the announcement of next year's festival, or so I thought.

For this, I plunged in with all keys blazing in my best 20th Century Fox fanfare style, only to see the on screen text announcing that there would in fact be NO Keaton Celebration next year.

What? Was this a joke? Continue the fanfare? Change to funeral music? What was going on?

I then remembered an announcement for the 50th anniversary celebration of the Bowlus Fine Arts Center for Sept. 26 & 27, 2014, and I wondered what dates the Keaton Celebration would be. Now I had my answer, and it was no joke, so I did morph the music into something a little more somber but hopeful, as organizers promise to come back in 2015.

We'll see. Not every vintage film festival has to continue forever. This same weekend, my colleagues Ben Model and Phil Carli did music for what is apparently the last "Fall Cinesation" festival in Massillon, Ohio. Rats! Never got to that one.

But these things are a lot of work, and if the same people have to keep doing it year after year, the glow eventually wears off.

The best argument for keeping the Keaton Celebration going is the reaction to 'Seven Chances,' the main event feature. Roars of laughter from a large crowd, and it somehow seems so correct that it's taking place just down the road from Buster's birthplace. People turn up wearing Buster-style porkpie hats and even in complete Buster outfits!

I feel really fortunate to have had the chance to do my own style of music at this event, and for this audience, and especially for 'Seven Chances,' and so I'm grateful to Bill Shaffer and Frank Scheide for bringing me in to help out.

At "The End," for some reason the house lights didn't come up, and I've never had so many flashbulbs go off in my face at once. But most gratifying of all were the very kind words from Barbara and Melissa, who made a point of approaching me afterwards to offer thanks for helping bring the films to life. High praise!

An afterglow followed at a nice house in Iola, followed by modest after-afterglow in the parking lot of the motel where we were staying at, featuring many very funny jokes that I will have to leave up to your imagination, or I'd have to click the "Adult Content" setting. :)

Friday, Sept. 27, 2013: Day 4 on the road / Iola, Kansas

The banner greeting those arriving in Iola, Kansas from the east on U.S. Route 54.

Got a late start, not hitting the road until 9:12 a.m. Still, got to Iola, Kansas before noon, arriving under an impressive "Keaton Celebration" banner that straddles U.S. 54 as you arrive from the east. Nice!

The Bowlus Center (home of the festival) was locked up tight, so went for lunch to the B & B Country Cafe, a favorite from last year. Place was packed, and staff was struggling with giant takeout order, but had yet another plate of fried chicken, which was the day's special and is starting to become a theme of the Great Early Fall 2013 Silent Film Accompaniment Road Trip.

At the Keaton Festival, supplied live accompaniment to 'Seeing Stars,' the Hollywood promotional short presented by Hooman Mehran, so I can say now that I've officially collaborated with him.

Amused to find the name of 'Paul Rapsis' on my stipend check. The Bowlus Center folks were most apologetic about it, and director Susan Raines even walked with me across the street to have it cashed, which was the easiest solution for them. Nice! But now here I am, in the big city of Iola with all this cash on me. Watch out!

But the real big news of the afternoon was being in the presence of actor Paul Dooley, whose long list of credits include being head writer of the original 'Electric Company' PBS show in the 1970s, which I was addicted to as a kid.

Here's me and Paul Dooley in the lobby of the Bowlus Fine Arts Center.

Dooley gave a nice presentation on Keaton, and also did a great stand-up routine that he seems to be trying out for use elsewhere. Hope I get a chance to tell him what the Electric Company means to me: I just looked at excerpts on YouTube (that amazing resource) for the first time in decades and it all came rushing back, yet another source of primary source childhood memories all locked up in bits and bytes ready to be streamed again. And he was the guy!

Skipped dinner to prepare for the evening's session, which included live accompaniment to 'Out West' (1918), the Keaton/Arbuckle short. But as I was playing prior to the start, Bill Shaffer came over and whispered in my ear (inevitably, it seems) that there was a change of program.

Instead, they'd be showing Keaton's short 'The Blacksmith' (1922) with the newly discovered footage. Okay, fine! I hadn't seen the film in years, but I actually remembered some of the structure of it (opening gag titles about the "Village Smithy," etc.) and so started getting ready mentally.

But first there were remarks from the mayor of Iola, who was welcomed with me playing "Hail to the Chief," which got a few laughs, and an award to actor James Karen, a long-time friend of the festival and of Buster himself. For a guy about to turn 90, he's in amazing shape! Sporting a beard, he resembles an older Ernest Hemingway.

And on to Buster, which came in the form of a file on a thumb drive brought over from Paris by Kate Guyonvarch. Into the laptop went the drive, and off we went. But not quite: the computer had trouble reading the file, so all we got was a jumpy series of freeze frames of Buster and then Joe Roberts chasing each other around.

I did what I could, but what can you do? They then shut it down and transferred the file to another machine right on screen in full view of the audience, giving me a chance to earn a few more cheap laughs by playing Merv Griffin's iconic "waiting" music from Jeopardy.

But it still didn't work, but they'll try it again Saturday night, I'm told. Well, at least I got to preview it! Afterwards, I couldn't resist following Kate Guyonvarch up the aisle just to tell her I was glad to help out, and that we should work together more often! :)

Still haven't had a chance to connect with her, and at this point it's getting to be a little like "Waiting for Guyonvarch." Still, it's nice to make her acquaintance after all the back-and-forth over the years.

A screening of Chaplin's 'A King in New York' (1957) followed, the first time I'd ever had a chance to see this film. Lots of interest in it, especially if you're interested in seeing how agile Chaplin was in his late 60s, and how sharp his pantomime and acting skills remained.

But the film itself was a mixed bag, and the washed out video image (and a weird rumbling in the audio whenever anyone spoke) didn't help. Alas, I came away from it thinking that was two hours of my life I wouldn't get back again, which is not the kind of feeling you want to get when attending a festival like this.

Well, props to the organizers for screening a film that rarely gets shown, and that fit perfectly into the celebration's theme of the "Fabulous Fifties," which were not so fabulous for Chaplin, anyway.

But then again, where else can hear rock 'n' roll with music and lyrics by Charlie Chaplin? So it was worthwhile in the "being complete" sense. Now all I have to do is sit through 'A Countess from Hong Kong' (1967) and I can say I've seen it all, with the exception of a few of the Keystones, probably.

Thoughts on 'Foolish Wives' (1922) prior to Sunday, Sept. 22 screening

We're coming to the last screening before I leave for Arkansas and Kansas next week, and it's a big one: 'Foolish Wives' (1922), the Erich von Stroheim drama set in Monte Carlo, as rebuilt on the Universal back lot.

I like one story that comes from the making of this film: for money on-screen von Stroheim insisted on using accurate reproductions of Monte Carlo banknotes. These were so life-like that some extras began bringing them to banks and successfully exchanging them!

How ironic for for a film in which counterfeiting plays such a prominent role!

Anyway, it's a big meaty drama that runs almost 2½ hours, and will provide a good workout prior to going on the road. Come see it on Sunday, Sept. 22 at 4:30 p.m. at the Wilton Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H. For more info, visit www.wiltontownhalltheatre.com.

And here's something I just found out: the date of our screening is actually von Stroheim's birthday! He'd be 128 years old.

The screening of 'Foolish Wives' comes on the heels of two screenings last week: 'Show People' (1928) drew about 50 people last Thursday (Sept. 19) to the Leavitt Theatre in Ogunquit, Maine, where it got a very positive reaction. A screening of Rin Tin Tin in 'Clash of the Wolves' (1925) at Red River Theatres in Concord, N.H. was less well attended, with about 18 people on hand, but the reaction was strong.

In case you're curious, here's the road schedule next week:

• Wednesday, Sept. 25: accompanying some Chaplin Mutuals for opening night of an "Art for the Citizen" symposium at the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Ark.

• Thursday, Sept. 26: During the day, more Chaplin Mutuals during the symposium. In the evening, I'm part of "A Tribute to Charlie Chaplin and Early Movie Music," a panel discussion at the University of Arkansas campus at Fayetteville. Not sure if I have to accompany anything here, but I'll be ready.

• Friday, Sept. 27: Day 1 of the 2013 Buster Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas finds light accompaniment duties: Chaplin's short 'One A.M.' in the evening and possibly some other things during the daytime seminars.

• Saturday, Sept. 28: Day 2 of the Keaton Celebration is heavy lifting in terms of accompaniment. I'm slated to do piano scores for the Constance Talmadge feature 'Her Sister from Paris' (1925), the Arbuckle/Keaton short 'Out West' (1918), and Keaton's feature 'Seven Chances' (1925).

I'll file reports here from on the road. And looking forward to October, which brings a Pickford program at Keene (N.H.) State College, 35mm screenings of 'Safety Last' (1923) and 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari' (1920) at the Somerville (Mass.) Theater, and about a half-dozen different screenings of 'Nosferatu' leading up to Halloween.

See you at the movies!

At the Buster Keaton Celebration in Iola, Kansas: Meeting the Family

Me with Harry Keaton, Jr., Buster's nephew.

For me, the highlight of this year's Buster Keaton Celebration was hearing stories from Buster's daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and nephew. All three were guests of honor at the celebration (the 20th annual), held on Friday, Sept. 28 and Saturday, Sept. 29, 2012 at the Bowlus Arts Center in Iola, Kansas.

Why Iola? Because in 1895, Keaton was born just a few miles to the west in Piqua (pronounced "pick way"), a village that was tiny then and even tinier now. And thus Iola, the nearest burg of any size (population 5,700), became the logical place to honor Keaton with a now-annual get-together of scholars, film buffs, and the just plain curious.

And why go there from New England? (One attendee described it affectionately as "two and a half hours from any damned airport.") Well, because the Keatons aren't coming to New Hampshire anytime soon. And also the chance to hear from film preservation icons Kevin Brownlow and David Shepard, who also attended, plus to hear the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra do live scores to 'Our Hospitality' (1923) and 'The General' (1926).

The vivid memories of the Keaton family came as a true surprise. Sitting onstage together on Saturday afternoon, they recalled incidents that went into significant detail that I'd never heard before. A lot of it was the kind of stuff that every family winds up talking about, but in this case, it's Buster's family.

I'd met Melissa Talmadge Cox, Buster's granddaughter, once before. It was at the 2010 Kansas Silent Film Festival, at which my wife and I got to take her to lunch at Bradley's Corner Cafe in North Topeka, the colorful "bad" part of town. We had a nice chat, but it wasn't the time and place to probe family history in detail.

Well, this weekend's Keaton Celebration brought not only Melissa, but also her mother Barbara Talmadge and Harry Keaton Jr., the son of Buster's brother Harry "Jingles" Keaton. And when they all sat down on stage to reminisce, the stories started coming.

Melissa opened things with a family photo album to provide some context, capped with a wonderful shot of her as a young girl with a stone-faced "Grandpa Buster" in a child's inflatable swimming pool. Great stuff! It nicely augmented what I recalled from her 2010 presentation and helped introduce the other family members.

Then Barbara and Harry began swapping stories, and what I heard was fascinating. Both are a bit older than Melissa (Barbara is a spry 87), and both had a seemingly endless treasure trove of first-hand tales involving Buster going back as far as the 1940s.

Barbara recounted in astounding detail the time her husband (Jim Talmadge, Buster's first son) brought her to meet his dad. Buster had long been estranged from his two boys following his divorce from their mother, Natalie Talmadge. And so not only had he not met his son's wife (Barbara), but he didn't know he'd become a grandfather. To me, that lack of communication spoke volumes (ironically) and helped fill in a key piece of Buster's life at the time.

Another tale: Buster's sister Louise, who never married, had wished to be buried with her mother, Myra Keaton, who had died in 1955. When Louise died in 1981, confusion first ensued when her body went missing for several days, having wound up at a Los Angeles mortuary that had no information about her identity.

When that was cleared up, the family interpreted her wish by first cremating her, then going out to Myra Keaton's cemetery plot and auguring a narrow hole all the way down to the casket, apparently. The family then used a funnel to get the ashes down to their final destination. "True story," Harry Keaton averred, as everyone in the place broke up.

I managed to speak a bit with Harry, now retired after a long career with the phone company in California. These days, he enjoys the role of family representative at the various Keaton tributes, and has a lot of interesting recollections. After all, he was part of the household when the Keatons were all living together in the 1940s, and he saw it all first-hand.

And Barbara Talmadge, now participating in Keaton events after being reticent for most of her life (presumably out of respect for her husband, who died in 2007), seems to be a particularly rich resource of first-hand recollections and accounts of Buster from World War II onward.

I didn't get a chance to talk with her but someone should, at length, and write it all down. I find it amazing that in 2012, we can still get fresh first-hand accounts of a significant time in Buster's life.

It was also interesting to get Kevin Brownlow's perspective on issues ranging from Raymond Rohauer (one glance of his during a panel said it all) and the difficultly of presenting vintage film in a way that does justice to it. Quoth Kevin: "Showing a film as if it's viewed out of the bottom of a champagne bottle is a cultural crime of the first order." (At least that's what I recall him saying.) Hear, hear, Mr. Brownlow.

Other highlights of the festival, in addition to seeing film friends, were learning that the town of Peculiar, Missouri has one of only two three-legged water towers in the entire Show-Me state; that the Wal-Mart Super Center in Iola is actually the second smallest such establishment in the entire United States; and that my wife is a dead-ringer for the mother of a friend of a server at Iola's B & B Country Cafe.

Yes, traveling is broadening! Especially so after sampling the B & B Country Cafe's fried chicken platter.