To the Editor,
Nearly a century ago, Vance Randolph began wandering the hills and hollers of the Ozarks visiting rich and poor alike, on shady porches, and beside the welcoming fire of foxhunters.
Truly a man of the people, he listened to bankers, ferrymen, hunters, doctors and itinerant berry pickers, recording what he heard, saving large swaths of Ozark country’s culture in story and song.
He made every attempt to meet and try to understand the people he was recording, by “immersing himself in village life, contributing items for the paper, dabbling in local politics” and in some cases living with his informants for several months.
