As published in Oxford Town September 30, 1993 
Beanland, 1991: George, Sleet, Bill, Ron, JoJo Hey now! Now, I promised you some good news and I'm here to tell you this to be the truth: This last show is going to be a celebration of all the good times, good friends and, of course, good music to come out of Beanland. Ya just gotta be there at this show. It wouldn't be right, it wouldn't be cool, it'd be downright criminal if you didn't meet me for one last big ole time like we used to have. What a time that first show was over behind Bill Cadow's house at 1313 Beanland! George and Bill McCrory (you remember him don't you? Who could forget Cro?) just got up there and played with the sun on their heads and the grins on their faces. All of the sudden there they were at the old, OLD Forrester's playing as the Beanland Boys for tips! Brother Lance joined up, twisting knobs on the soundboard and making sure everything went right. Then it was packed, hot, loud and FUN shows at Ireland's! Did we ever go to class? I remember how it just began as an adventure for them, they giggling unbelievably that someone would pay money and, most importantly, give 'em BEER to do something they loved doing and would be doing anyway.  Brother Lance They moved on to Sid & Harry's, back when Daddy-O was running it, and the crowds were really out of hand. Remember how there would be a long line out the door, even when it was about zero degrees, and folks would climb up the drainpipes out back just to get upstairs where the old wooden floor was swaying with dancers, wet with sweat, as they tripped into musical bliss? Rob Laird, JoJo Hermann and Ron Lewis were in the band by then, 1987, and they played their first out-of-Oxford gig up in Nashville at the Exit/In. Beanland really started hitting the road then, mostly all over their beloved South, putting folks to dancing and singing through a night that was always over too soon. They never professed to being great players or being too serious about it but they knew something connected between the band and audience during shows and fell in love with that feeling. That softened the miles in Orca (that old green van) and Big Bird (that old yaller truck), packing up all that equipment and sleeping, usually on the floor, in a different town every night. The Beanland trip took them out to highest Wyoming and Colorado, to deepest Texas, up to the New York island and all the Chicagos and Carolinas in between. They released two CDs, Beanland (produced by Jim Dickinson!) and Eye To Eye and played some great clubs along the way, like Tipitina's, Wetlands, Antone's, Hey! Norton's, and always came home to play in Oxford, be it in The Grove or Forrester's. Yeah, they're leaving us. A part of our lives is about to pass on, and that happens in people's lives. It's not a tragedy, though I damn sure wish it wasn't happening. The memories, the memories that make you smile when no one else knows what you're smiling about, are always going to be right there, dancing away. My favorite is loading up in Orca and going to Tuscaloosa in 1988, they did four shows in three days and the Rebels kicked Alabama's homecoming tail for 'em. Me and the Beanlanders were in the endzone digging it all. The Band is different now. Bill found the woman of his dreams and is happily doing the marriage thing. JoJo is playing with Widespread Panic. A few other members have come and gone and now, for one more night, Beanland is a fine group of musicians. It just all came down to everyone was ready to strike out into some new adventures and it just wouldn'ta been right, as good and fine a thing as Beanland has been, to keep asking so much of her, when she's already given so much to so many. Everyone, from the musicians to the dancers, is overdue a rest. Many folks are going to miss Po playing guitar so good it looks easier than breathing. Chris laying down fine bass lines that only hint at his experience and knowledge, and of course, Sleet Kleeter, skin pounder extrordinaire and crossword puzzle whiz. And George, well, you know George. Singing his heart out, grinning away, having a better time than anyone in the joint and playing like Ol' Scratch is hollerin' him on. One night last spring, George and I were up late talking about Beanland and what it has meant to him. The biggest and most important things, he said, are all the great friends that have been made along the road through all of this. "People who have come into our lives and allowed us into theirs," he said. "People who have put us up for the night, fed us, picked us up when broke-down-stranded, made posters and artwork, acted as tour guides to a group of lost gypsies, who roadtripped many miles to see us, people who are always there when we hit their town. They're the reward for all of this. Seeing our friends at a gig and sharing some music is the thing that will be missed the most."
Old friend, I'll see you at the show.
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