It was already a few minutes after seven on Tuesday morning when I got up and around. I dressed for the day, packed up my bags, and brought my gear downstairs to stage it near the door. Meghan was already up and offered me a cup of coffee. We sat in the kitchen chatting about our incredible time together in Manhattan just the day before. I thanked Meghan and Sean for their hospitality and generosity, and finally made my way to Aretha to hit the road.
I got on the road just after 8:00, and began heading north for Rockport, Massachusetts, the summer home of my friends Bryan and Anita Margerum. Originally, I had been slated to play a house concert at the Margerum’s primary residence just outside of Philadelphia last fall when I was out on the Sheddio In The South Tour with my old friend, Jeffery Gower, but Bryan’s dad passed away unexpectedly just a week before the show was slated to take place. Thankfully, we were able to arrange a show in Rockport this summer as a part of the tour.
Looking at the route, the drive from Meghan’s house to the Margerum’s figured to be just shy of four hours. After a bit of further inspection at the route, I could see my drive to Rockport would take me right by the city of Hartford, CT, meaning, I might just have time for a stop at the home of the American literary giant, Mark Twain.
It was just before 10:00 as I pulled into the parking lot of the Twain house in downtown Hartford. As I exited Aretha, I eschewed the foot path to the visitor’s entrance, and instead I walked slowly around the grounds of the house, circling it from front to back. The house was built in the 1870s in the American High Gothic Style. From the intricate shingling on the roof to delicate woodwork dotting the building in all corners, the Twain estate looked like as though a real doll house had come to life.
For several minutes, I loped around the lawn taking in the grandeur and exquisite detail of the home. The neighborhood was quiet save for a bit of street traffic, making it easy to imagine what an idyllic place this must have been for Twain and his family. The Hartford house would be one of the few places in his life where Twain would find true contentment, although tragedy eventually managed to find him there as well.
I passed through the visitors entrance and made my way to the ticket desk to get some more intel. A trio of ladies ranging from the mid-20s to their 60s were kind enough to give me the details about the available tours, as well as some history on the house. As much as I ached to tour the gorgeous structure, it would be an hour before the tour would begin. That sixty minute wait plus the 90 minute length of the tour would mean a much later arrival at the Margerums. I opted to pass on the tour in favor of more time with my friends. The ladies at the desk all wished me the best on my tour, and told me to come back to Hartford soon. I promised them I would. I really want to see the inside of that house.
Within two hours, I was on Cape Ann and approaching the Margerum’s summer home in Rockport. I found a spot along the roadside in front of the house and walked up the driveway. As I walked around to the back door of the house, I saw Anita in the backyard getting some decorations in place for the evening’s festivities. She came over to give me a huge hug and immediately offered me a tour of the house.
After Anita had given me the lay of the land, we grabbed my overnight bags and ran them up to the guest room. While Bryan finished up a work call, Anita ran through the impressive list of food they would be serving before and after the show. we also talked a bit about where I wanted to play, how to set up the room, and a few other logistical issues for the performance itself.
Bryan was down in fairly short order and the three of us caught up while prepping for guests. I pitched in as well as I was able, handling prep cook duties, setting up tables, and bringing in my gear and merch for the show. I jumped in the car with Bryan to head down to the Packy (Package Liquor Store) to grab some bourbon and a load of ice for the party. After we grabbed our provisions at the packy, Bryan took a half a mile down the road to a spot in the town of Gloucester where filming for the Apple TV series Widow’s Bay is filmed. While I have not watched, my wife and daughter are huge fans. I took a few pics to send to the ladies and then hopped back in the car.
Within about an hour, the place was looking great and we took time for a cocktail by the ocean. The Margerum’s house sits right across the street from a spot on the Atlantic Coast known as Folley’s Cove. They have access to the property across the street where there is a deck that sits right at the edge of the ocean. I grabbed my cocktail and followed my friends across the street to get a look at this gorgeous view. The water was completely still and the cove was bereft of people and boat traffic. For a few minutes, it felt as if this slice of the Atlantic belonged just to the three of us.
Once cocktail hour had ended, Anita, Bryan, and I finished prepping the last of the refrigerated foods, got the cooler organized, stocked the bar, and finalized the set for the living room where the show would take place. I took a few minutes to formulate a setlist for the night and then changed into my stage wear.
Just as I was wrapping up the setlist, guests began to arrive. I was introduced to neighbors, friends, and in-laws who were all excited and curious about the concert. There was a genuine excitement in the air from those who had never been a part of a house concert. It’s common for attendees to ask me about the way I tour and how I make it all happen. On this night, that curiosity was ramped up to a new level. I loved every second of it.
At 7:00 pm sharp, I sat down on a small wooden stool and began to set off on an hour of songs and stories. Before I even started my first song, a woman named Heather introduced herself and said, “Before you get started, I wanna know what your story is.”
I was happy to oblige Heather. I ran her through my exit from a corporate sales job after 23 years. I explained my musical history over the last three decades, and told the story of how I met the Margerums through a political podcast group. Heather, like the rest of the audience, wanted to know how a 54 year old man goes on a DIY tour; and how he winds up playing in their friend’s living room. The answers I give to these questions are rarely simple, but they are always interesting.
Because of the small nature of the room, and the configuration of chairs, I played without amplification, lending even more intimacy to the event. The audience sat at rapt attention for each song, and we made time for some lovely conversation in between my tunes and tales. The highlight of the night for me was a cover of The Psychedelic Furs’ tune, ‘The Ghost In You’. I have really come to love playing a solo acoustic version that brings out a haunting feel to the tune. A few folks even sang along.
After my set there were more cocktails and finger foods until the wee hours. When the last of the guests finally hit the road just before 1:00 am, I made my way upstairs to bed. Bryan and Anita stayed up for another ninety minutes cleaning up the mess so they wouldn't have to do it in the morning.
I was up early, made a pot of coffee, and set up my laptop to get some work done. I filled a cup of coffee and headed across the street to have my morning Joe down by the water. I followed the narrow foot path out to the rock formations that pepper the edge of Folley’s Cove. I found a smooth, flat spot to sit down and parked myself for several minutes. The water was so still it appeared smooth to the touch. The morning sun dappled what faint ripples there were, splashing dim reflections of light across the stones around the cove.
With coffee in hand, I venture further down the rocks, moving from dry stone to wet as walked further down into the tidal plain. Although I was being careful, I slipped on a slick spot of algae and tumbled down onto the rocks. Thankfully, I did not fall far, but I did scrape my right arm a bit as reached out to catch myself. No worse for wear, I dusted myself off and gingerly found my way back to where I had set my coffee down.
Slowly, I climbed the algae laden rocks back up to the area above the plain where the rocks were nice and dry. I sat down for a few minutes longer to take in the serenity of the scene. A faint breeze puffed for a moment and the air then returned to full stillness. I saw no boat traffic, no other humans, and nary a gull. It seemed for that moment, I was truly alone in the glory of nature.
Having sufficiently taken in the view, I walked back to the house and worked at the kitchen for about an hour before Anita made her way downstairs. We took our coffee out onto the sun porch on the side of the house and debriefed on the experience the night before. As Anita and I were chatting, Liz, the next door neighbor who had come to the show the night before came over to say good morning. Completely unprompted, Liz looked at me through the screen door and said, “Matt, last night was just magical.”
I was very touched by this statement, but I also knew exactly what she meant. Nights like that are magical because they are filled with curious, kind, and generous people. The true magic is that interested and curious people make the world a fascinating place. Liz sees me as the symbol of that magic, which is wonderful, but I am the conduit that allows that magic to happen. I may be the catalyst, but I am not making it happen all by myself.
Liz came inside the porch and sat down with us just as Bryan was finishing up a work call. The four of us sat and talked politics, parenting struggles, and international travel. I could have easily spent another full day chatting with Bryan, Liz, and Anita, but the day was pulling us all in different directions. Bryan had to jump on a call, and Liz was in the midst of a remodel on her summer cottage. I also had a four hour drive westward to the Hudson River Valley where a Wednesday night show in Kingston would be calling.
I bade goodbye to Liz and wished her the best as she walked back over to her place. She promised that next summer, she would host a show at her house. I am going to hold her to that. Bryan gave me a big hug and thanked me again before heading upstairs and back to work. I thanked him right back for an amazing 24 hours on Cape Ann. I did a double check around the house to make sure I had all of my gear packed away. Anita walked me out to the car where we hugged. I told her how very grateful I was for the hospitality, the show, and the great time.
Driving back down Cape Ann I marveled at how very fortunate I am to have so many wonderful friends dotted across the country. The truth is that it is a combination of luck and effort. I work hard to maintain relationships with a wide swath of people, both locally and away from my physical home. I also tour regularly, bringing me to places that I would not otherwise go. Most importantly though, I have learned that the real reason to tour like this is because of the people.
Cheers,
Matty C
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