Pitcher passed at the Old Town Tavern on Jan. 1, 2014 for the annual Townes Van Zandt memorial show performed by Chris Buhalis – on the anniversary of Van Zandt’s death, now 17 years ago. (Photo by the writer.)

As we flip the calendar to a new year, the regular milestone column is also a chance to remind readers: To sustain itself, the business really does rely in part on “voluntary subscription” dollars.

The Chronicle’s continued ability to document local government and civic affairs depends on you and it depends on you now – not on someone else at some other time. So I’m asking you to think right now about using the online system or the old-fashioned check-in-an-envelope method to make a financial contribution to The Chronicle: Subscribe!

As a reminder, in case we don’t write a column about this in some given month, I’ve added a recurring monthly item to our event listings for the second day of every month: Time to Contribute Financially to The Ann Arbor Chronicle.

It’s worth pointing out that The Chronicle’s event listings are pretty extensive, and currently include somewhere around 15,000 local events. That’s made possible through the work of Jon Udell as part of his Elm City Project. Granted, 15,000 events might sound a bit overwhelming, but we have begun categorizing them into smaller mini-calendars that some readers might find easier to parse.

One of the regular events you’ll find listed in The Chronicle’s event calendar is live music every Sunday night at the Old Town Tavern. Customary at the Old Town, after the band has played its set, is for someone to carry around a pitcher to collect up money for the musicians. It’s somewhat like a secular version of passing the collection plate at a worship service in the Christian tradition.

When someone is holding the pitcher out in front of you, that’s the time you are called upon to act – not later.

So I’d like you to think of this month’s column as the Internet-equivalent of passing the pitcher for The Chronicle. Below the fold, I’m going to beat briefly (I promise) on this same drum. So if you’ve made a recent contribution, you should feel free to imagine that the pitcher has moved on to the next table.

If not, imagine you’re sitting in the equivalent of your Old Town Tavern. Someone is holding a pitcher out in front of you right now. Here’s a list of terrible reasons not to put money in that pitcher at the Old Town.

Why I Won’t Put Money in the Pitcher: 9 Terrible Reasons

1. Where? I don’t see a pitcher.
   
2. I put money in the pitcher last time. 
   
3. The Old Town should be paying them, not me.
4. It’s not like those musicians expect to make a living at this.
5. The other people at my table already put money in the pitcher.
6. I would put money in the pitcher if they had played songs I like.
7. I don’t carry any cash around any more.
8. If everyone gave a dollar, that guy would be making like $75 an hour! That’s crazy!
9. If they had a CD for sale, I would buy that, but this would be like paying for nothing.
10. I just can’t afford it.

The one possibly good reason is (10). The rest, I think, are just self-evidently dumb. Each one of those has an analog to making a financial contribution to The Chronicle.

As we get set to tackle 2014, thanks again to those of you who helped us get through 2013.

Dave Askins is editor of The Ann Arbor Chronicle. For the first four years of publication, a milestone column was published every month in The Chronicle. Now the column is only an occasional feature. When the milestone column does appear, it’s usually on the second day of the month – to mark the anniversary of The Ann Arbor Chronicle’s Sept. 2, 2008 launch. It’s an opportunity for either the publisher or the editor of The Chronicle to touch base with readers on topics related to this publication. It’s also a time that we highlight, with gratitude, our local advertisers, and ask readers to consider subscribing voluntarily to The Chronicle to support our work.

Bill Bynum & Co. Sunday night at the Old Town Tavern. Left to right: Mary Seelhorst on fiddle, Chuck Anderson on bass, Dave Keeney on guitar, Bill Bynum on guitar and vocals. (Photos by the writer.)

They’d come specifically to hear Bill Bynum & Co. play the Old Town Tavern – a neighborhood bar offering free live music every Sunday night. Yes, the Johnstons are fans – they buy a CD every time they see Bill play, says Jim, so they’ll have one to give away to another friend as an introduction to Bynum’s songs.

What kind of songs are those? Bynum announced his Old Town set by saying, “Howdy, folks, we’re here to play some hillbilly music!” And that’s what they did for two 45-minute sets, with a break in between.

The Chronicle didn’t have to drive nearly an hour to get to the Old Town like the Johnstons did – the Old Town is right down the street from us.

But we were there to see Bynum, too, because we wanted to check out one of the acts playing BreakFest 2010 at The Ark on Feb. 26. That’s when Bynum will be joined by Bonnie Rideout, Rev. Robert Jones, Sr. and Duck Baker in a benefit concert at The Ark for The Breakfast at St. Andrew’s, a nonprofit that provides a hot breakfast every day of the year to anyone who shows up at the doorstep of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church on North Division.

Why Not Golf?

Jim Cain, who’s producing the BreakFest fundraiser, told The Chronicle that the idea of organizing a concert as a fundraiser was his attempt “to save Ann Arbor from yet another charity golf outing.”

Cain serves as a member of the board of The Breakfast at St. Andrew’s and works as a volunteer at the breakfast itself – washing dishes. The work of organizing the fundraiser, Cain said, didn’t really seem like work. Recruiting the artists was a combination of cold calling and connections – helped by Cain’s own musical background.

Cain played bass in the Saline High School orchestra with fiddler Bonnie Rideout and took piano lessons from her mom. But when he first tried to contact her, she was in Scotland recording a CD and couldn’t be reached. After finally tracking her down, she was instantly on board.

Cain didn’t have a previous connection to fingerstyle guitarist Duck Baker, so he cold-emailed him asking him to play the benefit. In his email, Cain included the fact that he was learning some Irish fiddle tunes arranged for fingerstyle guitar – using teaching materials created by Baker. Baker said yes, and Cain has helped arrange some shows in Kalamazoo and Lansing to make the trip from New York England worth Baker’s while.

But the first artist to agree to perform for BreakFest was Bynum – on a handshake deal. How did Cain get to know Bynum? Start with Bynum & Co.’s fiddle player, Mary Seelhorst. Her husband is an editor at Car and Driver magazine, which is based in Ann Arbor, and she herself is a photographer who on occasion shoots automobiles. Cain met them at the Rolling Sculpture Car Show in downtown Ann Arbor and got to know the band that way.

The Funding Challenge

Part of the impetus behind the need to ramp up fundraising efforts for The Breakfast at St. Andrew’s program was the end of support from the city of Ann Arbor. When human services allocations were made this current year, a new evaluation metric was implemented, along with a requirement that audited financial statements be provided.

The Breakfast was not able to provide audited statements for this year’s application cycle, so was not allocated any funding. As the city of Ann Arbor faces a challenging budget year – with all programs on the table – it’s not clear if any human services programs will receive funding in the coming year.

All of the $30 ticket price for the show at The Ark goes directly to support The Breakfast. To make a donation directly, call 734-663-0518  or make an online donation to the St. Andrew’s breakfast program.

Bynum at the Old Town: Photos

Meanwhile, here are some photos to document the rest of the evening at the Old Town Tavern.

In the first booth were Jim and Connie Johnston, who'd driven from near Jackson, Mich. to hear Bill Bynum & Co. play Ann Arbor's Old Town Tavern.

Bill Bynum

Dave Keeney

Chuck Anderson (on bass) and Dave Keeney

Bill Bynum

The pitcher is passed.

Datestamp of our adventure, which started aboard the 446 AATA bus on Route 4. No smoking, no hot dogs, or other buses (?) allowed on board.

As we reported last week, SOS Community Services was to embark on a fundraising effort on Nov. 21-22: Dine Out to Help the Homeless. Seven different area bars and restaurants participated. On Saturday, we visited them all.

Transportation to Ypsilanti and back was provided by the AATA bus system. We observed a lot along the way to make some donations for the cause, including a guy we pegged as a graduate student in some liberal arts field who was having trouble finding change for the bus, because his coin purse was still filled with a mix of Turkish lira from a trip to Turkey … this past summer. We donated a dollar to his cause as well. The last thing the AATA needs is a bunch of lira in their farebox.

Here’s some photographs we took along the journey. They’re organized thematically, not chronologically.

The way to Ypsilanti

Bus 446 departed Blake Transit Center right on time. After looping through the UM hospitals, we had around 16 people on board when we hit the intersection of Washtenaw and Stadium, headed east towards Ypsi.

Ypsi-Arbor Bowl is a landmark that lets you know you're nearing Ypsilanti.

Staff we met

Geoff E. at the Corner Brewery in Ypsilanti.

The guy tending bar at The Arena in Ann Arbor asked Jessica T. to substitute, saying that she was more photogenic.

Blue Tractor hostess Adrianna D. was smiles all around for the SOS fundraiser.

Arbor Brewing's SOS Dine Out for the Homeless sign was taped smack in the middle of the front door.

Beer identification test

Beer 1: Name the establishment and the beer for bragging rights.

Beer 2: Name the establishment and the beer for bragging rights.

Beer 3: Name the establishment and the beer for bragging rights. Here's a hint if you don't recognize the logo on the coaster: it's Tammy P. in the background.

Beer 4: Name the establishment and the beer for bragging rights.

Owners we met

Co-owner of the Corner Brewery, Matt Greff, stopped by for a chat.

Owner of the Side Track, Linda French.

Co-owner of The Old Town Tavern, Chris Pawlicki, wearing his SOS Dine Out for the Homeless button, takes us back 10 years to Ms. Morissette: "I got one hand in my pocket, ..."

Pretty Scenery

Washington Street at Fifth Avenue looking west. Blue Tractor and The Arena were two stops along the way, as well as Arbor Brewing, across from the lighted tower of the parking structure.

Tending bar at the Corner Brewery is all about the extension and the follow-through.

It's actually where we started, not where we finshed, but the folks from BikeYpsi.org concluded one of their fall events here at the Corner Brewery.

Chris Buhalis (right), Jason Dennie (middle), Dave Keeney (left) play the Old Town Tavern.

“Reason to Believe,” a Springsteen tune that begins, “Seen a man standing over a dead dog by a highway in a ditch” was part of the set Buhalis played, backed by Dave Keeney on steel guitar and Jason Dennie on mandolin. The crowd for Buhalis was a mix of Old Town regulars, friends of Buhalis, and folks who appeared to have just happened into this neighborhood bar and decided to stay for the music. But the young couple smoking Camels seemed to be there mostly just to smoke their Camels.

Still they were treated to a mix of Buhalis’ own tunes – like “Big Car Town” and “Whisky Six” – plus several folk standards like “Muhlenberg County” and “John Henry.” Buhalis knows how to sell a song. Introducing the familiar ballad about the steel-driving man: “This is a song about man versus machine, but it’s also a song about love.” And it is, of course. Buried in one of the later verses is the tale of how Polly Ann, John Henry’s wife, picks up the hammer from her husband’s dead hand and finishes off the job.

When Buhalis sings these standards, he gives them their due, each and every lyric, and if you don’t believe that he believes in them, then you’re not paying close enough attention. He manages to give listeners a reason to believe the lyrics of these old songs, some of which we’ve all heard a million times, and to listen to the whole message, not just the part everybody remembers from elementary school.

Here’s the last three verses of what would have been the next-to-last song that Buhalis played:

The sun comes shining as I was strolling
The wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The fog was lifting a voice come chanting
This land was made for you and me

As I was walkin’ – I saw a sign there
And that sign said – no tress passin’
But on the other side … it didn’t say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!

In the squares of the city – In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office – I see my people
And some are grumblin’ and some are wonderin’
If this land’s still made for you and me.

This was the first song Buhalis learned to play on the guitar. He said he learned only the first three verses in grade school and it really “pissed him off” when he found out about the stanzas we’ve included above. So he’s on a mission to sing every verse now. In case you don’t recognize the tune based on those last three verses, it’s Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.”

Catch Chris Buhalis, plus a whole passel of other alums of Old Town Tavern Sunday night music, next Friday, Oct. 10 at 8 p.m. at the Corner Brewery in Ypsilanti. It’s a John Lennon Birthday Party to raise money for the local chapter of Veterans for Peace. Admission is $10.

A wounded scooter, after being hit by a van outside of the Old Town. Not to worry – the owner of the scooter wasn't on the scene when it was hit.

Let’s say you’re out walking and you see a scooter parked on the street get creamed by a van. And then, let’s say the van drives off. What would you do? To be clear, it’s not your scooter. And the scooter’s actually parked illegally. And it’s raining – not cats and dogs … but you’ve got your dog on a leash along for the walk. What would you do?

Or let’s say walking at 8:30 p.m. in downtown Ann Arbor, a young (and in your estimation, scruffy-looking, down-on-their-luck) couple who are seeking shelter from the rain under the Clover Leaf awning asks you, “Do you have a cell phone?” What would you do?

Or let’s say you hear, then see, a cello player in Nickels Arcade as you’re walking south on State Street and note that there’s no one around listening. You like listening to street musicians, but just to be clear, you’ve got somewhere to be: a group VP debate-watching event with the UM College Democrats. What would you do?

What do you think Joe Biden would do? How about Sarah Palin?

We’ll get back to the scooter and the phone call, but those are the kinds of situations that might reveal more about these candidates for vice president than any set of responses they might give to debate prompts. Still, we must content ourselves with sound bites given at rope lines, stump speeches, and debate prompt responses.

Gathered to watch the responses of Biden and Palin on TV during their debate last night were around 130 students at an event organized by the UM College Democrats. When I walked into the University Club at the Michigan Union, there was something going on, but not what I expected. With half an hour to go before the debate start, I suppose what I expected to see was a bunch of sweat-shirted young people grouped in flirty conversational pods, eating popcorn, wearing backpacks stuffed with intro to psych textbooks, ready to heap derision by the shovelful onto Sarah Palin. That is, I expected a scene more uniformly consistent with the one T-shirt slogan I observed: “Whoever heard of a nice piece of elephant?”

Instead of larger conversational pods, most people were off by themselves talking on their phone. Nearly everyone had a sheet of paper that seemed to be a handout of some kind. I wanted a handout, too. Whoops – no, I didn’t. They were call sheets. All those individual phone conversations were outgoing calls to a targeted set of voters.

I tracked down Nathanial Styer, chair of the executive board for the College Democrats, who gave me some insight into the phone task. The call sheets were freshly generated that day by the Obama campaign and were geographically targeted to the 7th Congressional District – voters who had not been contacted yet by the campaign of Mark Schauer, who’s running for the U.S. House of Representatives. Styer explained that callers had been briefed for 20 minutes on various talking points by subject-area experts before the sheets had been distributed. Callers were surveying voters about their preference in both the presidential race and the 7th Congressional District, plus making a single request: watch the debate.

As the group watched the debate, there was applause and laughter at many predictable places. Palin’s vernacular phrasings (“we’re gonna fix it,” “doncha believe that,” “somebody hollers out a question”) consistently drew giggles of amusement throughout. Occasionally, but not often, people in the audience hollered out opinions. “That was terrible!” came in response to Palin’s declaration that her position on same-sex marriage was no different from Biden’s: “My answer is the same as his and I do not [support same-sex marriage].”

Displayed on split screen with Palin, it drew consistent laughter whenever Biden displayed a toothy smile. It’s not clear to me how to analyze that. The biggest applause line for Biden of the night came when he wrapped up his depiction of McCain’s health plan (which Biden said amounted to giving taxpayers $5,000 to replace a $12,000 policy) with the kick-out: “That is the ultimate bridge to nowhere.”

Another strong applause line for Biden was at the conclusion of his remarks about his personal tragedy and how he understood what it’s like to raise kids as a single parent. Biden had choked up briefly talking about not knowing if his child was going to make it, before continuing. As Biden paused to gather himself, there was an audible murmur through the audience. The concluding applause led me to parsed it as a perfectly sincere, “Awww.”

Leaving the debate-watching venue, returning through the still-falling rain, I regretted not stopping earlier to enjoy the cello player in Nickels Arcade. He or she was now gone. Biden and Palin are pretty busy people. They probably wouldn’t have stopped, either.

The young couple who asked for my phone, they were gone, too. But I assume that story had a happy end. The woman first called her mother to authorize cab fare (which she did after confirming with the male companion that yes, it was in fact raining), then the cab company. I’d like to think Sarah Palin probably would have lent the young woman her phone, and would have authorized cab fare for her daughter, too.

The smashed scooter was gone as well. That story will probably have a halfway happy ending, too. Matt Bradish, who owns Underground Sounds, was the guy earlier who was out in the rain walking his dog. He saw the incident, recorded the van’s license number, peeked into Old Town Tavern and asked Liz, a server there, to check if someone inside had parked a scooter outside, and then phoned in a police report. Eventually the scooter’s owner was located (though not at the Old Town). Don’t know if Joe Biden owns a dog, but I’d hope that he’d phone in a police report, too.