News from rural America.

We start out talking to Daily Yonder contributor Kaitlyn McConnell about the future of small rural cemeteries in the Ozarks. As donations decline and cemetery caretakers age, communities and individuals will have to decide what happens to these sites of local history. Then we head to Montana, where theater-maker Michael Rohds is taking his show on the road, bringing interactive performances about mental health to communities around the state. Next, we’ll learn about a one-of-a-kind ballet in Wisconsin, where the dancing is done by farm equipment – hayrakes, to be exact. We’ll hear from French filmmaker Luce Fayolle about her time documenting the American Southwest, and musician and professor Trevor McKenzie brings us the story of Otto Wood, also known as the Appalachian Robin Hood. Our featured musician is Bill Salmon, who combines influences from funk to Klezmer in the hills of New Mexico. Tune in for all that, and more, on Yonder Radio.

TRANSCRIPT

Hi, I'm Jared Ewe, the host of Yonder Radio.

Every week we bring listeners rural conversation with National Reach.

And this week is no different.

Caitlin McConnell showing up as she does, bringing a story this week about rural cemeteries in the Ozarks.

And who cares about them anymore?

Real conversation we're having.

And then to Montana where theater maker Michael Rhodes is taking his show on the road to help rural America with mental health.

And then we go dancing with tractors in Wisconsin.

It's a real story.

It's a real thing, and we have the real story on Yonder Radio before we go to the American Southwest with French filmmaker Luce Fayot.

An incredible story she tells, and Trevor McKenzie is back by popular demand with his story of the Appalachian Robin Hood, Otto Wood.

And our featured musician this week is Bill Selman, who combines influences from funk to klezmer to rock and roll.

Oh, he's a good conversation.

Tune in for all that and more on this week's Yonder Radio.

We'll see you next time.

We'll be right back.

Yadda Radio Rural Conversations with National Reach.

Hello, my name is Jared E.

We thank you for being here with us today.

And I've just discovered we have an EGOT show today.

We have Emmys, we have Grammys, we have Oscars and Tonys.

Okay, now they actually haven't won any of those, but we have that kind of entertainment.

We have a Tony for the Hay Rake Ballet coming up, dancing farm equipment in Wisconsin.

An Oscar could go to the French filmmaker who spent her time in the Arizona Desert.

An Emmy definitely to the legend of Otto Wood and the great television that man's story would make.

And a Grammy to the music of Bill Salman and his total life reinvention, we'll hear.

And there will be trivia.

And now news.

We have Jan Patolsky here, news editor for The Daily Yonder, to tell us about some of this week's top rural headlines.

Hi, Jared.

This week we're bringing you some news from the best rural newsroom out there, which is Daily Yonder, covering some of the Democratic primary happening right now across the country.

Starting with a story we published on the Michigan Democratic primary, where Abdul El-Sayed beat his opponent, Haley Stevens.

And not only that, he won the rural vote by about 0.55%.

And although he narrowly won the overall rural vote, Stevens carried more rural counties than El-Sayed.

A lot of those races were extremely competitive.

One example, Gobik County in the Upper Peninsula.

Stevens prevailed by merely 14 votes.

All that to say that the rural vote provided a critical boost for El Saeed's statewide performance.

In Washington's 4th Congressional District, Democrat John Doresky's advanced to the general election.

He was the only Democrat in a crowded 11-candidate primary and finished in the top two alongside Republican Amanda McKinney.

That's notable because Democrats failed to advance a candidate from the district's primary last cycle.

Now, in Tennessee's 9th congressional district, we have seen a pretty dramatic change for the Democrats.

That's because of the gerrymandering.

An old district map that was centered on Memphis has been broken up and added a large amount of Republican-leaning territory, giving Brent Taylor, the Republican candidate, a significant advantage.

And lastly, we're going to Wisconsin, where Democrat David Crowley led Francesca Hong, 40.4% to 35.6%.

It's been the highest turnout for a statewide primary race, governor, Senate, you name it, in more than 70 years.

Well, safe to say this is a harbinger of things to come.

A lot of election coverage here.

And now from Canary Media, grants and billions of dollars and Trump.

Those are the nouns I have.

What is the story?

Yes.

So Cannery Media brings a really interesting story about how the Trump administration is effectively blocking billions of dollars in funding for electrical grid fixes across the country.

They have canceled hundreds of projects.

Some of the blue states, according to the reporting from The New York Times, have been targeted, quote unquote, as a political contribution.

However, many claim that it's a broader Department of Energy's failure to carry out their work.

In both Republican and Democratic states, DOE is forcing thousands of grantees to undergo extreme review processes that just get the whole machinery grind to a stop.

The department announced the termination of 356 awards, totaling $12.5 billion since January of 2025, and threatened to terminate extra $303, which would amount to $12.2 billion.

All right.

The termination of rewards bringing red and blue states together.

Jan Patalski, thank you so much.

Thank you, Jared.

And now, talking to Daily Yonder contributor Caitlin McConnell, who documents life, and in this case, death, in the Ozarks.

Caitlin's latest column is about rural cemeteries and what shrinking donations and aging caretakers might mean for their future.

Well, Caitlin McConnell is back.

Ozarks Notebook, Rural Cemetery Shift in Changing Times.

Caitlin, you come right out the gate and say, listen, I'm not the decider here.

I'm taking notes.

What does that mean?

You know, I have long been fascinated by rural cemeteries.

I see them all the time.

And I actually have done quite a bit of research around death and burial traditions as well.

So I do have a vested interest in the topic.

But I think the reason I distanced myself from the answer is because it's really something that people as individuals can make their own decision on, where they feel that the answer is around, do cemeteries need to survive into the future, particularly small rural ones that people don't have connections with anymore?

Yeah, because you come right out and the first two paragraphs are a punch in the gut.

Suddenly, something you hadn't even been thinking about, rural cemeteries, is heavy on your mind as if they're going to matter in the near future.

But then the third paragraph, you're like, But technology is changing how we preserve these stories.

Are people finding solace in that?

I think that I find the irony interesting that, you know, you have these cemeteries literally on the ground, you know, seeing them out and about.

And knowing that there are people who are becoming more interested or at least having a way to learn more than in the past with the aid of technology.

And so it's like, I don't think the interest in the topic has changed, at least from my perspective.

It's just the practicalities of that and how people process that, whether their interest is more superficial and maybe not so much local, whereas they're out there working in the cemetery because they have some connection.

And yet that interest is there, but it doesn't mean that the cemeteries themselves are being taken care of.

So I think that I don't know what we do with that.

That's kind of why I was vague at the beginning.

I'm like, I don't know if this is something that will change over time.

People will get more interested in being more hands-on with them, or if it's purely more for the novelty of the tradition from afar.

Yeah, digital tombstone isn't going to grow weeds.

Meanwhile, the actual cemetery needs upkeep.

And you're talking to these people, one man who is 73, and he says, I'm the youngest guy on the team.

There seems to be a loss of interest in this.

A lot of that, in my mind, goes back to the fact that people aren't living in the same communities any longer that their ancestors were.

I mean, it was really kind of a built-in thing when you had folks who, you know, had lived in the area their whole life and maybe their kids did and their grandkids.

It was sort of passed down from one generation to the next in a way that there's just not that emotional connection or maybe just physical connection if you're living across the country.

I think that's one of the biggest reasons that cemeteries aren't maybe maintained in the way that they were, or it's more challenging to find people to maintain them.

But the thing to keep in mind, too, is that, you know, at least in the Ozarks, most cemeteries, and there are exceptions, but most, you know, would start around the 1850s or the 1860s.

We're not talking about cemeteries that go back hundreds and hundreds of years.

You know, this is sort of the first, quote, crisis of continuation, I think, where we're dealing with this in a way that, you know, is still kind of relatively new in the lifespan of these cemeteries.

Why did you do this story?

Because I know there's depth.

Caitlin McConnell, people, she doesn't come here without depth.

Okay, that's just a basic rule.

I did this because I wanted to make people think.

Choosing to become involved or interested in a local cemetery is very much a grassroots decision.

You can make a decision on being involved in a cemetery that's close to you, whether it's one your family's connected to or one you just think is interesting or maybe kind of sad because people haven't kept it up.

You can choose to do that if you think it's important.

And maybe you just haven't thought about it before.

And it's something that we collectively don't have to all decide on to make it happen.

And so, you know, someone reads this column and they're like, oh, yeah, maybe I should get involved.

And that's a good outcome. or maybe in the other hand, it's like people deciding that it is a sad, but just the reality of the world we live in that not all these places will survive and coming to terms with that.

How we deal with death is changing.

I mean, I could become a coral reef or, you know, people are being composted.

There's cemeteries maybe playing less of a role anyway.

You know, looking from where we are now to the past, there's been a pretty big change.

But to your point, like where we are now versus 20, 30, 50 years from now, I think is going to be a lot different because you don't maybe have the level of burials in cemeteries as you once did.

I don't know, like in rural areas, what that will look like in the future.

It may be that people step up and are like, these are important historic sites as people build more and more in rural areas and become more acquainted with them.

Or it may be like they've had their moment and unfortunately, we just can't take care of them anymore.

Well, incredible article.

It's Caitlin McConnell here, Ozark's Notebook, Rural Cemetery Shift in Changing Times, Changing Traditions and Population Trends Reveal the Challenges Associated with Rural Cemetery Caretaking.

Greatly appreciated, Caitlin.

Well, thanks for having me on here.

I always enjoy it.

You can find more of Caitlin's work at DailyYonder.com.

Well, our featured musician this week, Bruce Selman, a New Orleans-born, Texas-raised musician who comes to us today from the mountains of New Mexico.

His music is inspired by everything from klezmer folk to funk to rock and roll.

There ain't no bell up at a zero-star hotel.

Daddy's been gone for three years now.

Mama's playing organising...

So I'm talking to Bruce Salmon here, a musician, and we'll get to his music, which is great.

But what are your surroundings?

Because I just watched you walk, I think, through the desert for a while as you tried to find Internet signal.

Where are you right now, Bruce?

I'm in the mountains between Surios and Madrid, New Mexico, which is about a half hour south of Santa Fe.

You are a prolific maker of song because your band camp, your Spotify, there's a long list of music.

I love it because I can hear the Texas guitar player there, but then you're tying in Eastern European.

Something's going on there.

I hear Hungary or Poland.

She came all this way just to say goodbye.

Say goodbye, say goodbye.

She could have written me a letter with smoke in the sky, but she came all this way to say goodbye.

I mean, you know, I was, I grew up in the suburbs of Houston and played garage rock.

You know, my brother had older brother that played ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Dad Company, and I wound up doing that stuff and moved to Austin and just played in rock bands and got kind of got more and more into funk, kind of from the New Orleans stuff.

And then as the whole Chili Peppers, Beastie Boys things, happen.

And then, but I was in a rock band playing in Alejandro Escovedo's band for about five years touring with him.

And it kind of got me more into songwriting more than like the rock jamming stuff.

I didn't want to keep doing rock and roll anymore.

I had gone to quit his band and I met a accordion player at a Hanukkah party playing by the fire with a washed up bass and just playing all of this.

I mean, an incredible amount of songs.

I put all the electric stuff away and I spent quite a few years just studying music with them.

And right when I got with them, they started really digging into studying klezmer music.

But they had in their repertoire some of the, some Romanian music and a lot of stuff that was just Eastern European fiddled and accordion music.

It was like a study group almost, you know, it was so much different than playing in rock bands because it was almost like they were gathering songs than trying to write precious pieces of art or something.

And it really kind of opened up, you know, blasted my mind open.

Started going to the folk dancing groups in Austin and going to the dances.

And then they would tell us about these festivals in Europe.

And so we went over there for a couple of summers and went to Bulgarian and Hungarian and Romanian dance camps and just studied.

Yeah.

And I love the sound.

I love that you got sucked into the wild world of accordion and it changed your life.

It seems like an important lesson in renewal there because you dove into figuring out how to learn anew, right?

That sounds impressive.

You know, I played totally by ear pretty much except for learning junior high trumpet.

But I played by ear until my late 30s and then I kind of just ran into a wall with everything I wanted to do.

They were handing me charts and I couldn't read charts.

So I went to the community college and studied, just started studying composition and piano and everything and learning how to actually communicate that way.

There's like a point where either somebody is a lifer or they aren't.

And it's like, OK, this isn't going to happen.

You're not going to be a rock star.

You're 40 years old.

You still want to play music?

You know, and that was kind of why I finally went to school and studied because it was just like, this is this endless ever opening onion or ball of wax or whatever it is.

There's just always more stuff to study.

So you're working on a studio in Madrid, but you're playing a lot in Terlingua.

Are there any rules to showing up in Terlingua?

When you show up and you want to play, is there anything you need to know about blending?

There's a book called On the Porch that was written by a guy named Chase Peeler.

It was his thesis for ethnomusicology, and he was out of UC Boulder.

He lived down in Terlingua for a couple of years, and he was just great.

I mean, he my favorite sax player I've ever played with just beautiful lyrical sax player that just filled in right and also played guitar and wrote songs and everything.

But his thesis was on why the music in Terlingua was like it was because it was he felt like it was out of all the places he went in America, like it was the purest thing of what music had been 10,000 years ago.

Terlingua basically was, you know, an old mining town and then it was abandoned for years and it got developed by the river raft guides and the old grocery store and movie theater.

There's a big old porch and everybody went there to play.

There was no hierarchy of, okay, only the badasses or the pros get to play.

Everybody played.

And that has extended just being drawn to that humility of getting into something that's more organic than idol worship and ego and all of that.

Well, Bruce Salmon, thank you so much.

I mean, a living example of renewal and invention and live it in the moment.

Thank you for coming on Yonder Radio.

Well, thanks a lot, Jared.

That was Bruce Salmon wandering around the desert looking for internet signal from Madrid, New Mexico.

You can find more of his music on Bandcamp, SoundCloud, and Spotify under the name Bruce Salmon, spelled like Salmon.

It's almost time for a break, but first I'll give you your first trivia clue.

We'll give you three clues throughout the episode and reveal the answer at the end.

So here we go.

The answer to this week's trivia is a group of people who began their training in 1941 at Moten Field.

Coming up on Yonder Radio, the Hay Rake Ballet.

This is interesting.

Like, I'm not sure you've heard of this before, and we'll be talking about that.

Also, mental health in rural America.

Who is looking out for you?

On the way on Yonder Radio. guitar solo yonder radio rural conversations with national reach hi my name is jerry and our next guest michael road has been on the road all across montana bringing conversations about mental health to communities around the state michael leads the university of montana's co-lab for civic imagination and uses interactive theater performances to help communities tackle stigma and access resources to improve mental health and let me tell you this program has rave reviews I'm just going to tease people with some testimonials about what you do.

Here's what people have been saying.

You've made a significant and positive impact on our community.

That's Dom Vergara, the principal at Baker High School in Montana.

Fort Peck Fine Arts Council, they said transformative.

One of the best conversations I've had with both students and staff.

That's a principal at Conrad High School.

What brought you to this place where people are heralding your program across the big sky country?

I'm a theater maker.

That's what I've been doing my whole life.

But I've been doing it not just within, like, theater world, but my thing for a long time has been figuring out how to be a theater maker inside the worlds of public health and education, criminal justice, and housing and transportation.

So I got invited up to Montana four years ago to continue work I've been doing in other places and start a lab at the University of Montana focused on how artists can make a difference outside of the arts by collaborating with folks in other fields for public good.

And so the first big project that I took on here in Montana was this project just called State of Mind, which is a touring theater and public conversation project about mental health that's been in the last two years in 35 communities around Montana.

And we do residencies where we have a show and we do workshops and we help host town meetings all about how to bring people together thinking about mental and behavioral health in communities.

Well, if you showed up at my university doorstep and you list off this long list of things that you wanted to tackle from criminal justice to mental health, I'd be like, sir, I'm not sure if that's possible.

But then I read about you and you have breached local high schools and your work is on the walls outside of a local basketball game.

And there is no higher edifice in many communities than to be where everybody is showing up and your work is there.

Talk about this project and how it's getting into communities.

Yeah.

I mean, I really appreciate the way you put that because it's really true.

If you want to work in a community about something that community members care about or are working around, but they don't know you or they don't think about the arts as like the way into that thing, you can't expect people to come to you.

You have to find ways to go to where people are.

So what you're referring to is we were in Malta, Montana.

They wanted more people in the community exposed to conversations about mental health.

They wanted young people and adults talking together.

They wanted to tackle stigma around mental health.

And we were like, well, where are people?

And they wanted us to come in the winter.

And they were like, people are in the gym.

People are at the basketball games.

People are at the wrestling matches.

We brought a couple of visual artists with us because we realized, oh, let's create stuff for the walls that's interactive about mental health.

So that's how we sort of tried to show up where people were and make stuff that would help start conversations.

Well, it's such a good spot because not only that's where the community is, and some of my best memories, you know, are in those warm gyms on a cold winter night in rural America, but people are so used to talking about physical health, you know.

Brent can't play because of his knee.

That's right.

But then talk about this wall to the other side, Mr. Road.

What is going on and how are you helping people surmount that?

There's already people in every community working to help people surmount that, right?

There's mental health workers, there's public health officials, there's prevention specialists, there's school counselors.

But you just said like the most important thing.

You said, okay, Brent's physically hurt.

Brent can't play in the game.

We get it.

But if Brent is struggling with depression or if there's addiction in Brent's house and Brent is like really stressed and having trouble being around people, we don't feel comfortable maybe asking Brent how they are.

It shouldn't be hard to talk about that because if you have a broken leg or you're struggling with depression.

Those are both things that your body, your body and your mind need to heal from.

So we have to get past the shame and just have a conversation.

You're in a small town and a theater troupe shows up.

They want to change your world.

How is this being received?

Well, here's the thing.

We don't show up out of the blue like the circus who arrived on a Saturday morning. we work for literally a year sometimes beforehand with a group of hosts in the community who invited us they have worked together to set up workshops for us to set up the performance for us but more importantly to tell folks what's coming and to invite people to join us for conversations and then we try to bring a little circus energy the show's pretty fun it's a it's a cool play that's very interactive.

So the audience gets to participate and not just like watch a bunch of stories.

So we try to bring a little of that energy too.

In Malta, it was that big sports event.

In Conrad, it was a week where we brought students together with adults for small group conversations.

We interviewed them.

We built a new theater piece about that.

And then all the English classes worked for a month after that with students on turning that into student presentations.

It's different in each place.

Yeah, and this would be an example of the University of Montana State of Mind Dream Team rippling outward.

Yeah, I mean, we're trying to ripple.

More and more folks are asking us to come back and stay a little longer and do a little more work.

If you're listening to this and you're in Montana and you're in a community we haven't been to, we're free of charge.

Like, we raise the funding to come to places.

There's no charge.

So if you're hearing this, just Google State of Mind comma University of Montana and reach out to us.

We've started to hear from communities around the country.

So if you're listening to this and you're like, well, we're not in Montana, but we want to start or learn more about that program, reach out and connect with us.

We want to help get the work out there.

Well, Michael, this is so helpful.

This is so useful.

Your theater moving outward and amplifying what's necessary for people to help with mental health.

And thank you so much for being here.

I really appreciate it, Jared.

And anytime that we're able to lift up mental and behavioral health in rural conversations where it's just a real kind of urgent topic.

Really appreciate it.

You can learn more about Montana's state of mind at umcivicimagination.com.

And now we'll hear another song from our featured musician, Bill Selman.

This one's called Jimbo's RV.

The West Texas wind blows through this old RV.

It ain't going nowhere no more.

The moon kept on shining.

The dogs got excited.

I woke up every time the wind slammed the door.

Every time I hear that whistle blow, I want to get up, go down by the tracks and finish this song.

But it's still kind of cold and it's still kind of night.

And I can't find my pants in the dark with no lights.

I'm spending the night in Jimbo's RV.

He ain't got no amenities, but he lets me stay for free.

He ain't got no electricity, but it's black and white TV.

Spending the night in Jimbo's RV.

It's parked in a lot on the outskirts of town The cactus is green, but the grass is all brown The sheriff comes round That was Jimbo's RV, apparently available for your stay if you want to save your Airbnb money for something more affordable.

Join Bill Salmon and his 2014 record, A Barrel of Monkeys.

And you can stream that online.

And now our sister organization, Rural Assembly.

They like to share with us the things they've got going on, the people they know.

And they have one heck of a rural Rolodex.

So today, we're bringing you Hay Rake Ballet.

A performance unlike any other, which is somehow an understatement.

It's put on by the Worm Farm Institute, which is an arts nonprofit and also a working farm in southern Wisconsin.

It's run by Donna Neuwirth and Jay Salinas, who are artists and farmers themselves.

Here to tell us about the Hay Rake Ballet is the choreographer herself, Sarah Butler.

She became involved with the Worm Farm Institute as an artist in residence.

A couple of years ago, she was commissioned by them to create something pretty amazing.

Sarah, tell me, what is the Hay Rake Ballet?

Essentially, it's a classical ballet, but it's a choreographed harvest inspired by classical ballet compositions where local farmers are harvesting alfalfa crop in choreographed patterns with live orchestra.

There's a lot of planning that goes into that and definitely a lot of vision and optimism.

That is incredible.

Donna Neuwirth approached me with the concept of hay rake ballet.

I guess ever since she had moved to this area in Wisconsin and she had seen the hay rake farming implement, the wheel rakes, she had said, oh, that's such a beautiful machine, which I completely agree.

I had the same thought when I went the first time.

And she was like, I would love to see a piece called the hay rake ballet where the machinery is dancing.

Talk about what it takes to make the tractors dance in the field?

A lot of vision and a lot of teamwork and a lot of logistics and also a lot of trust, a lot of trust with the community, I would say.

Oh yeah.

I mean, a huge part of it has been building very real relationships with the farmers because it's a really easy project to say no to as a working farmer.

Oh yeah.

Are you kidding me?

Like, I mean, already I'm putting myself in the body of a working farmer.

And here comes you with a walkie talkie and a forklift.

And you're like, Hey, you know what I'd like to do during some of the busiest times of the year?

Exactly.

With your equipment and do you have a spare field and do you have other friends that want to jump on board?

Yeah.

So some really, really interesting and humbling interactions in the beginning.

Yeah.

I mean, I was just driving around and if I saw a hay rake parked in somebody's yard, I would just, you know, drive up and find them.

Well, I mean, some people probably thought they were in a dream or something.

Yeah.

I don't think it's a question they'd been asked before.

I think that's safe to say.

But yeah, so things really shifted when I got reconnected with a guy, Farmer Andy.

I remember saying like, okay, Andy, we're going to do a performance.

I want you to be the star.

You're going to come out in your tractor.

The music's going to swell.

The audience is going to cheer.

Like I remember kind of trying to sell him on this idea.

And in my memory, he was like, uh-huh.

Uh-huh.

I like it.

Like I saw, I felt him leaning into it.

So then once he was on board, I was like, okay, something's going to happen.

I have a farmer.

I've got a tractor.

He has a rake.

It became an easier project to consider now that it was like, OK, there's a local farmer on board.

Oh, Andy, and he's doing it.

OK, well, maybe I could try.

You know, it became easier because it wasn't like, who's this weird gal coming into my barn?

Who's like a dancer from Germany who wants me to do a ballet?

And the first year ended up getting three wonderful local farmers.

So three guys, three tractors and three rakes.

And then the testimony of your ability is it's gone, what, to 10 drivers now?

Yeah, we went from three in 2024 with the pre-recorded music.

Let's try to get an orchestra.

Let's get as many farmers as we can.

Let's, you know, and then it was like, okay, how do we harvest the crop as the choreography is happening rather than just driving patterns?

Wow.

Mow the crop.

Let's rake it into rows.

Let's bale it.

Like, how do we do that as a part of the show?

So yeah, 2025, we went up to nine, nine drivers, nine tractors, and mower, tedder, rakes, and a baler.

Shooting bales into the air.

How does this play with the choreography?

Because that seems like it could have a total Tchaikovsky moment there.

A thousand percent what you just said.

Yeah.

I mean, that was one other thing that came from Donna, who originally, you know, the seed of this idea came from.

She was like, have you ever seen this?

When they have the kick bailers, they do like a jump shot.

It's like a basketball.

I was like, oh my God, this feels like the coda, like the men's variation towards the end of the ballet where he's jumping and he's doing the double tours because the things are flying.

And it's super dramatic and cinematic in a lot of ways.

So it was like, okay, like great, that becomes the coda.

And then the rakes, okay, they're organizing the alfalfa and the hay into a row.

And that feels very regal.

So it's like, okay, this becomes more of like an adagio section.

And then the tetters, they kind of are throwing things around.

So it's like, okay, maybe this is a more like playful, lighter bit.

You know, so it helps to also shape the dramaturgy in that way.

What does it feel like to be in the forklift with the walkie-talkie presiding over Sauk County, choreographing?

I mean, in the moment, a little bit stressful.

I mean, yeah, let's be real.

In the moment, a little bit stressful.

But when I see these pictures, I am like, wow, if somebody else was telling me about this project, I would be very envious.

I would be like, how do I be a part of this?

the cherry picker forklift stage manager view, I think is a very funny one because it's like, I'm up there just talking for the entire show, just saying, all right, rakes.

And we're going to get ready to head into transport in three, two, one, go tetters.

We're going to head into this section.

It was like just giving like instructions and saying, this looks great, John, let's speed up a little bit so we can match Darren's line.

Very good.

Okay, Dean, we're going to come in from the left.

It's very cool to be up there with the walkie-talkie.

It's very cool to be up in the air.

And it's just a really beautiful reminder, again, of the trust where I'm like, it's like, this is our project.

And if anything, it's their project because they're the ones carrying it.

And they're the ones that we're watching.

They're the ones that we're clapping for.

They're the ones that we're celebrating.

It's pretty spectacular.

And now it builds to 2026.

Tell us of the event that's coming up.

My whole life has been leading to this moment.

I honestly feel this way.

The plan is that this will happen September 12th, but as any farmer would respond to that with just a laugh, because the idea of planning harvest many months in advance is just crazy.

So our show date is September 12th, but we have rain dates lined up in the event that something needs to shift.

So we'll have more farmers, more equipment, expanding also from a string quartet to a chamber ensemble.

This September, Hay Rake Ballet will essentially be the headliner performance of a full afternoon event that Worm Farm is producing that will be called Make Hay While the Sun Shines.

What do you hope people come away with as they leave this field in Wisconsin?

Hopefully a feeling of connection, of conversation, of inspiration.

I can see really clearly the incredible power of art making and just a creative process, almost as an excuse to just bring people together and do something.

Because the relationships that have come out of this are so special.

The other thing that's been really, really beautiful is just the reminder of how important and just deeply powerful it is to be seen and to be witnessed. what I experienced as a shift from the three guys who took part in the original cast who were a little bit hesitant at first I was saying like okay you're going to come forward you're going to bow people are going to applaud and they were like no no no no I don't know like it's and then after the first show you know they were like running forward they were signing autographs like they were so proud and their families were so proud and the community was celebrating them and people from outside of the community.

We're celebrating them just for people to be seen and witnessed for who they are and for what they do in their everyday life is so powerful.

For the upcoming September 12th, potentially September 12th, depending on weather, Hay Rake Ballet and look up the Worm Farm Institute when you get a chance, because you'll learn more about Sarah, the ballet and an incredible institution that has been a part of Wisconsin for over two decades now.

So thank you so much, Sarah.

Thank you.

That was Sarah Butler, choreographer of people, master of machines.

To learn more about the Hay Rake Ballet and the Worm Farm Institute, visit wormfarminstitute.org.

Well, now it's time for our second trivia clue.

We're talking about a group of people that began training in 1941.

They were known as the Red Tails because they flew airplanes with tails that were painted bright red.

More clues coming up.

And also, I'm going to talk to a French filmmaker who found herself deep in the Arizona desert on the way on Yonder Radio.

Yonder Radio, Rural Conversations with National Reach.

Coming up, more trivia and the trivia answer.

Also going to be talking to Trevor McKenzie about Otto Wood.

Incredible story about a legendary criminal.

That's coming up shortly.

But first, To the Desert with Luz Faiul, a student filmmaker who traveled over 5,000 miles from her home in France rural Cascabel, Arizona.

She soon found herself making a documentary that touches on her experience in Arizona's countryside and the community's long-standing fight against a powerline project.

We watch you transform from this tourist to part of the community.

Just give us the journey, Luz.

Take us through this documentary where you're growing and understanding and becoming a part of Cascabel?

I've learned a lot being in the desert.

And at first I was very afraid and shy of everything.

I didn't know where to stay.

I didn't know where to put my feet without hurting myself because there is wild animal everywhere.

But people there teach me how to love those animals and respect the inhabitants of the desert.

For example, the big spiders scared me at first.

But then when I've learned that the tarantula, I think we say this, they're very, very fragile.

And if they fall, they can just die because they break their bones.

Then, you know, you realize that the threat is you.

It's not what's around you.

And so I think learning this kind of thing about the animals around me really helped me to respect them and not being afraid, but be proud to be among them.

Well, there is this scene where suddenly there's a flow of water through the desert and you get in the water, you're sitting in the water and I get this vibe like, oh, this girl's going with the flow now.

She's part of the, not just the people, but the surroundings.

Yeah, yeah, definitely.

It was very hot.

It asked me to slow down in my life because you cannot go fast.

You have to act cool to work and to do with the nature and the weather.

And so I think this way of living teach me also to be part of the elements around me instead of just, we cannot adjust them to us.

We have to adjust to them.

And so I think that this scene, for example, is really the moment where I realized that, okay, it's too hot.

I just have to cool down and I can be grateful for the water around here and I can just use it and not disturb the nature around and just being part of it.

When did you decide this could be a documentary?

So when I went to Cascabel, the first time I didn't bring my camera for the two first weeks, I started to learn about the people.

And actually, I arrived with a lot of stereotypes in my mind as a French person and a young person and someone who grew up with Western movies in mind.

So when I said I was going to the countryside in Arizona, of course, I was thinking about cowboys and just, I don't know, white dudes.

You know, that's what it was in my mind.

And when I arrived, it was totally different.

So I thought, oh, wow, okay, I have to readjust my mind and learn everything.

So I thought, I'm just going to film and I will see what I'm going to do with it later.

It took me a while because I did the movie almost two years after I came back to France.

Here, we struggle with our own filmmakers not getting the West right.

And a French student comes in, does so much in 30 minutes, because we haven't even talked about the big, quite literally overhanging issue, which is the power lines.

Yeah, this power line project was taking place at the time where I was there, but they are fighting against it since 20 years.

And so when I was there, things were moving forward.

They had more paper approved to create the power line.

But I was not really conscious about what was happening at the time.

I was more into the rural world and learning everything.

And so I didn't really catch up what was going on.

But when I came back to France, I kept touch with the community and I took part on meetings online.

And then I realized what was really happening.

And that's how this part in my film arrived.

It's when they finally accepted this project in 2023.

At this moment, I just received all the pictures you see at the end of the film.

It just broke my heart.

And that's the Sun Zia transmission line, which is, it's been going on for a while, folks, in Arizona's San Pedro Valley.

But a high voltage transmission line that has sparked more than 15 years of controversy and legal challenges.

So it is happening.

The pictures were pretty powerful.

Yeah, yeah, it is.

And so that's the moment where I took part in this fight, as we can say.

But I always wanted to show my commitment to Cascabel in a smooth way and an artistic way, because it's not my country.

It's not my land.

And it's a very difficult issue they're talking about.

And I don't feel confident enough to protest in a very frontal way.

And so I thought doing it my own way with poetic film could be the best way to touch people.

And from the feedbacks I had, I think it works.

When you do tell people about this documentary, what is it that you say?

What is what we say in America, the elevator pitch?

Well, I told them that this documentary is a way for me to show a different way to live in a world, a way that could apply to our everyday life, even if we live in a city.

Because it's not because I film people in a rural place that we cannot think the same way in the city or in other places in the world.

It's a movie that shows that we're part of the whole and that give us time also to slow down and to think about who we are in the world and who we are towards nature and its inhabitants.

Well, it is a beautiful slice of life.

Luz, thank you so much for dialing in and taking this time.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

It was my pleasure to talk with you.

That was Luz Feil.

You can watch her documentary, Caskabel, on YouTube.

And now we're bringing back Trevor McKenzie, a musician and the director of Appalachian Studies at Appalachian State University in Western North Carolina.

He's here to tell us about Otto Wood, this legendary figure who both terrorized and inspired the populace of Wilkes County, North Carolina in the early 1900s.

Known as the Appalachian Robin Hood, Otto Wood's legacy has been carried down through song.

Who is he and why doesn't America know more about this guy?

Well, Otto Wood was a bandit.

There's famously a song called Otto Wood the Bandit About Him, of which there are several different versions, the most famous of which was revived by Doc Watson back in the 1960s during the folk revival.

Step up, buddies, and listen to my song.

I'll sing it to you right, but you might sing it wrong.

A song about a man called Otto Wood.

I can't tell y'all, but I wish I could.

He stepped in a pawn shop a rainy day And then he had a quarrel with a clerk, they say He pulled out his pistol and struck him fatal blows This is the way the story goes Otto, why didn't you run?

Otto's done, did, and gone Otto, why didn't you run?

When the sheriff pulled out that.44 gun So Otto Wood was from Wilkes County.

He was born back in the 1890s.

He was in and out of five different state penitentiaries 11 different times and countless other jails.

He was an escape artist.

He was missing his left hand.

He was born with a clubbed left foot.

So he walked with a limp, which a lot of people used to identify him.

And he kind of had this life that extended across the nation during his lifetime and ended up, his life ended with a shootout on the streets of Salisbury of New Year's Eve 1930.

He rambled out west and he rambled all around till he met two shares in a southern town.

They said Otto stepped to the way for we've been expecting you every day.

He pulled out his gun and then he said make a crooked move and you both fall dead.

You better crank up your car and take me out of town.

But a few minutes later he was graveyard bound.

Otto, why didn't you run?

Otto's done dead and gone.

So what were some of the shenanigans he was up to?

I mean, was he really the Appalachian Robin Hood?

Ah, yes.

I mean, there are some stories from around Wilkes County of him, you know, giving some pennies to kids or things like that.

There are a couple of stories of him returning cars.

Most famously, he stole a car out of the state prison in Raleigh and returned it.

It was the prison doctor's car, and he decided that he didn't have any use for it anymore, so returned it or left it in a place in front of the Capitol where they could find it.

So there are little Robin Hood elements.

Like most outlaws that are celebrated throughout history and folklore, you know, he's a much more complex character than just sort of this Robin Hood, which has been handed down to us, this type.

Well, and his slogan here, incredible.

He loved the women, he hated the law, and he just wouldn't take nobody's jaw.

Well, it's eloquent and rhymes.

Seems like it would lead to some trouble.

Yes, definitely.

And that's most famously a line from the Walter Kidd Smith version of Autowood the Bandit.

How has the music shaped his story?

Because there's nothing like a good hook that will change somebody's mind about a thing.

From my own experience, you know, I exist in this academic world.

And then also as someone that grew up playing traditional music, I exist in that world as well.

Sort of the heart of this story.

It really doesn't matter who Wood was as a person.

The way that he's celebrated in music now is kind of like this Robin Hood.

It's more of a community memory type of piece to all of this.

And so my first exposure to Otto Wood was through the song.

And I was playing in a group. the Elkville String Band that's made up of, you know, older Wilkes County musicians who had grown up in a lot of cases hearing stories about Otto and were kind of keeping his ballad and a couple of other local songs in their lineup.

Anytime that we performed, you know, Otto Wood was always on the set list because it would be requested by people.

What Otto Wood songs are in your holster?

What do you quick draw for crowd pleasers?

Well, of course, there's the Doc Watson one that was revived from the Walter Kidd Smith record.

My favorite that I like to pull out for people onto the set list is the Otto Wood version that was recorded by another Smith, Slim Smith, who was a locksmith from Mississippi, who was not a great musician, but tried to get into the songwriting game in this early country music recording era.

And, uh, he wrote his own version of Otto with the bandit.

And unfortunately, uh, since he couldn't play, he had to use whatever, um, backing band was in the studio that day, which was King Benny Noahi's Hawaiian Serenaders.

So I always like to play that version and say, it's the only Appalachian, uh, murder ballad that you can do hula dancing to.

Now listen folks While I sing this song I'm telling the truth But it may sound wrong It's all about poor Otto Wood I'm sure he did everything he could Twas in a pawn shop One rainy day The truth may hurt But I must say Dear Professor, why is it that we're singing about criminals and not celebrating, say, a benevolent pediatrician who handed out butterscotch?

Well, people need these sort of stories of excitement and these local characters in particular who are celebrated in communities and sometimes are infamous within communities.

And so they're kind of place markers that start larger conversations about an era rather than just being about the person themselves.

So I think Wood is useful in that people will hear about his song.

And as much as they remember Wood himself, they may remember the era of their grandparents or their great grandparents.

And so it can launch a discussion of a broader appreciation of that era.

And Otto Wood's story is one among many, but I feel like these are little place markers that we can use to kind of guide ourselves back into regional history.

Well, Trevor McKenzie, he is the director of Appalachia Studies at Appalachian State University.

And today he brings us the music and the story of Otto Wood.

Thank you so much.

Jared, thank you for being willing to talk with me today.

They put him in the pen, but it done no good cause it wouldn't hold a man to call Otto Wood.

It wasn't very long till he slipped outside, pulled a gun on the guard and said, take me for a ride.

Otto, why didn't you run?

Otto's done dead and gone.

Otto, why didn't you run when the sheriff pulled out that.44 gun?

Well, our show today is almost over, but we have one more important piece of business to attend to, and that is the final clue and the answer to our trivia.

Now, remember, we're talking about aviators known as the Red Tails, who first began training in 1941.

Here is your third and final clue.

In addition to becoming the first black pilots in the U.S. Armed Forces, this group also consisted of black navigators, bombardiers, gunnery crews, and mechanics.

The answer is the Tuskegee Airmen.

Named for the location of their initial training in Tuskegee, Alabama, the Tuskegee Airmen broke the color barrier by becoming the first African-American aviators in the U.S. military.

In doing so, they shattered racist stereotypes and forced Americans to confront racism at home while they fought Nazism abroad.

In many of their missions, they served as escorts, providing air cover for bomb squadrons.

The Tuskegee Airmen program trained nearly 1,000 pilots as well as thousands of people in critical military support roles.

In 2007, the Tuskegee Airmen were awarded the Congressional Gold Medal honoring their boundary-breaking service.

And we've been honored to pilot this prior hour with you.

And we bring it to you every week.

You can learn more at yonderradio.com.

Thank you for listening.

Thank you for listening to Yonder Radio, a production of the Center for Rural Strategies, publisher of The Daily Yonder.

I'm your host, Jared Ewey.

Thanks to Don Castle and the Tennessee Sheiks, Steph Gunno and the Lone Tones, Quincy Ponfair, Leo Pozel, and Tim Merima for the great music.

Our editor and producer is Susanna Brown.

This episode was also produced by Anya Patron-Slepian, with additional support from Alana Newman and Julia Tilton.

Our executive producer is Joel Cohen.

The executive in charge of production is Adam Georgi.

Beyond a Radio, Rural Conversations with National Reach.

Thank you.