A special show was slated for the previous “Free Friday” concert at Bo Diddley Community Plaza to celebrate Independence Day. It was the first installment of the concept themed after the NPR show, “A Prairie Home Companion.” Taking a Gainesville spin, it was renamed “The All-American Payne’s Prairie Home Companion,” a clever shout-out to the marshland south of town.
Russell Etling, programs coordinator at City of Gainesville Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Affairs, said the type of music played at the events includes rock, psychedelic, folk and reggae.
The concerts “are provided free of charge by Gainesville to bring a better quality of life through the arts,” Etling said. “It showcases the scope of talent in the community.”
I arrived at the plaza at 7:30 p.m. with 30 minutes to kill. A large number of people — with lawn chairs erected and blankets unfolded — had already positioned themselves on the grassy area in front of the stage. I walked toward the Lunchbox, a brick restaurant with outside seating that skirts the plaza. The sweet potato nuggets with citrus dipping sauce and chocolate-covered frozen banana with roasted coconut flakes were both satisfying, but I thought the sweet potatoes were overpriced.
Finishing my eats while sitting on the concrete slab beneath the overhang of the joint, I somewhat unwittingly steered into an interview with a stranger to my right. He introduced himself as Phil Denton.
“I work for Visit Gainesville,” he said. “It’s basically the tourist bureau of the town.”
“So what brings you out here tonight?” I asked.
“Well, I’m really just interested in knowing what’s available,” he said as he motioned toward a stack of coupons he’d picked up at one of the few tent vendors, calling them his passport. “Coupons work, coupons work, coupons work,” he rejoiced.
I smiled at his quip. “Well do you know much about the show tonight?”
“I saw it in the paper,” Denton said, “but don’t remember much about it – it looks like a real mixed age group.”
He got into rehashing — nostalgically — the folk music scene of the 1960s, calling it “the summer of love.” After realizing it futile to rein him in from his wistful reminiscence, I parted with a handshake.
I positioned myself to the right of the plaza on a bench, the old courthouse to my back. Large ever-expanding rain clouds threatened overhead. That didn’t seem to sway the crowd, as I estimated about 200 people were milling about, waiting. The stage was ready to go.
Almost in unison, the show kicked off and the rain started, slow and light. Raincoats were adorned and umbrellas opened. Some spectators made their way beneath the eaves of the stage, but most stayed put — unfazed by the drizzle.
Introductions were made, a skit was done and the first band, Quarter Moon, managed to get through a few songs. The rain picked up its pace and thickened.
A man in a red jumpsuit, who was involved with the show, joked, “We didn’t think we’d actually be bringing the prairie to you all.”
A little less than an hour in, most everything was drenched. The crowd, most of whom had held out, rapidly dispersed.
Ron Thomas, the emcee of the event and a guiding force behind the project, was heading to pack everything up before the rain intensified.
“For the past four years or so, around the Fourth of July, we’ve put together all-American song fests,” Thomas said. “It’s gone through all those permutations — thought I’d try something new this year.”
I said it was disappointing they had to stop the show early. “Is this something you’re going to try and invoke again?” I asked.
“Some mention’s been made that we might do it at the Thomas Center, indoors. So we’ll see if we can arrange a date for that,” he said.
