Fall is beloved by many for the fire reds and pumpkin oranges that take over our trees before the onslaught of winter. It is also the time that many fifers and drummers are preparing for their final weekend beneath the stars, cranking out tunes next to a warm fire in an old corn field in Sudbury, Massachusetts. On the grounds of the historic Wayside Inn fifers and drummers gather for the annual Sudbury Colonial Faire and Fife and Drum Muster.

The parade, on Saturday, is strikingly short, which bodes well for those that may have been over-served during the Friday evening festivities. Here are a few shots of the imbibers taken five or six years ago during that parade.

 


 

 

 

 
Naturally, the Mariners always find a way to enjoy themselves at this bucolic muster and it has become the favorite for many. What I did not know until recently, however, is the role the Mariners had in its inception.

So, let me begin a story for you.

The picture below is of Russ Kirby, who, for decades, was most recognizable as the emcee at the Sudbury Muster. As you can see he is holding a fife.
 

 
The fife he is holding is one that he made and, as it turns out, he has made quite a number of fifes, including these beauties, which are made from some old timbers that were once a part of the Wayside Inn.
 

 
How did he get timbers from the Inn you might ask? Well, in December of 1955 there was a great fire at the Inn that destroyed the entire North and West wings of the building.
 

 
Consequently, there were lots of old timbers that had been removed and put into storage on the property of the Wayside Inn. The old charred timbers sat for many years until Russ, a novice instrument maker, came along and asked if he could use some of the wood to make some fifes. Most of it he found unusable due to massive damage from moisture and insects. But, he was able to salvage a few pieces and build the set pictured above.

Not long after, the Sudbury Fife and Drum Corps found themselves at the Deep River Muster playing the ‘Redhorse Fifes’ that Russ had made. What happened next is a wrinkle in Mariner history that surprised me. Listen to the audio file below as Russ, in his own words, conveys what happened next.

 

 Birth of Sudbury Muster [1:47m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

A Couple more years of the stroll down memory lane.

Swiss Mariner Photos 1978

Photos of Swiss Mariners and Friends from 1978

Swiss Mariner Photos 1980

Photos of Swiss Mariners and Friends from 1980

Photos from 1977 just added

Swiss Mariner Photos 1977

Photos of Swiss Mariners and friends from 1977

Here are some photos from Swiss Mariner past. More to come

Swiss Mariner Photos 1973

Photos of the Swiss Mariners and friends

Swiss Mariner Photos 1974

Photos of Swiss Mariners and friends

Swiss Mariner Photos 1975

Photos of Swiss Mariners and friends from 1975

Swiss Mariner Photos 1976

Photos of Swiss Mariners and friends from 1976

Some pictures of the 1st Openair Concert in Silberthal, France.

Further groups were

• The City of Basel Calédonia Pipe Band
• Les Hussards d’ Altkirch
• Les Grognards de Haute Alsace

A summary report is in the work.

Silberthal, France - 8th of September 2007

1st Open Air Concert in Silberthal, France

As you may have heard, the Mariners had a great time in Basel this year. Here are some of the pictures I took…up close and personal.

A New England afternoon in early summer. You know the kind: blue skies, white clouds, sugar maples swaying to the moisture laden air, sweet with salt fresh from Long Island Sound. All the peace and tranquility of a quiet Connecticut town.

Until the ‘entertainment’ began. I had never seen or smelled anything like it. The sulfurous roar as the canon announced their approach. If I could understand ‘canon-ese,’ I would certainly have heard it crying, ‘Fag a Baile! The Mariners are coming!’ And then the sea of red and white stripes and hats and ‘kerchiefs and pewter swinging at hips, and oh, the continued roaring of the drums and the wailing of the fifes as they got closer and closer, until I could see the tooth baring yelps of men, the barefoot-swagger, the pirate in chains leaping through the crowd, matched in enthusiasm and vigor only by the children jumping up and down for joy at the spectacle.

I know. I was 8. I was one of them.

And like a boy signing on board a sailing ship, some part of me left home that morning and hasn’t returned.

It’s been 27 years since that morning when The Mariners marched into my world, never to depart. I have wondered in the interim how eight-year-old me knew, even then, that this was the thing and the place for me. There are different flashes of memory- how it moved me, the music, the noise, the commotion, the pure power and joy; I still wonder, what makes it so magical? And other things I never could have known at that point, like how talented and amazing each and every member of this disorganization is; how they have become family, friends, brothers, counselors, role models and confidants to me through the intricacies, trials and victories that have filled my days. My feelings and ideas have evolved over time, and yet, only in small and inadequate ways have I ever been able to understand or explain.

This seems to be a universal failing among Mariners. ‘Friends.’ ‘Family.’ ‘Heart and Soul.’ All the usual monikers have never explained, never painted a picture worth looking at that even hinted at the model the artist was attempting to render. I was beginning to believe the old religious mantra, “For those who believe, no proof is necessary, for those who do not, no proof is possible.” I was reminded also of a long-standing tradition among sailors to take in hand a painting or photograph of a vessel, stare at it until the smallest inconsistency or error is found in its content and then discard it, never to be looked at again. This seems the fate of definition.

And so it was with amazement and joy that, this August, in a bar, in a somewhat less than reputable section of a very old town, my good ‘friend,’ Greg Bacon, did the job for all time, capturing it for me. With seventy-five or so absolutely soused companions, he masterminded, orchestrated and conducted a cry we have all unwittingly rallied to, one that does as good a job as any at conveying who we are, and why we dedicate our lives to the relentless and sometimes reckless pursuit of human decency and dignity in the most raucous, life-loving and affirming way we know how- because simply, “We Are The Mariners.”

 

 Let the Good Times Ring [1:21m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download