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Remembering MaynardJuly 18, 2008 Maynard Silva died Wednesday. Not exactly a surprise: he'd been fighting cancer for several years, and though for a long time it looked like he had it beat, in the last few months it had been gaining ground. On stage Maynard almost invariably wore red sneakers. The other red sneaker finally fell. If you've been on Martha's Vineyard for any time at all, you knew Maynard and probably heard him play, at the bars, at old Wintertide Coffeehouse, at all kinds of private parties and public events. Martha's Vineyard isn't the first place that comes to mind when you think of the blues. Maynard, born and bred on the island, had to go traveling to learn the blues. Then he brought 'em home. With growly voice, slide guitar, and a sly gleam in his eye, he introduced plenty of islanders to the classics, to Sonny Boy Williamson, John Lee Hooker, Robert Johnson, and especially Bukka White. He added his own style and songs to the tradition too. "Hard Luck Alley Cat," co-written with Gene Mahoney, is a long-time favorite of mine. At the Outerland benefit held for him in early May, musicians he had influenced and played with over the years did the honors, and the joint was, as they say, hoppin' -- even though it was too packed for anyone to hop very far. I'd never seen that many cars in one place on Martha's Vineyard, except maybe the year the Islander crashed on changeover weekend and the standby line took over Vineyard Haven. Maynard made a brief appearance, not to play but to thank everyone for coming out. Maynard's path and mine crossed often over the years. When I first went to work at the Martha's Vineyard Times, his then wife, Mari, worked in production. Their son Milo was born around then; when Milo started first grade, the Times's front-page "Back to School" photo was of him getting on the school bus. A few years later, Maynard and I both found ourselves in the circle that centered on Red Pony Farm when it was still on the South Road. How he got there I'm not sure, but he painted the Red Pony logo on Karin Magid's old Volvo -- Maynard made his living as a sign painter. Hell, I'm not sure how I got there; it was a series of coincidences that turned out to mark the beginning of my return to horses. Mari was in the same orbit, along with her boyfriend, a tall thin blond guy named (I think) Patrick who was a very good cook; she and Maynard had split by then, which made for some awkward moments. Puppy Rhodry was born around then, and since Karin's Nanu was his mother, I was around Red Pony a lot. There's a picture of puppy Rhodry looking up a long lean blue-jeaned leg: I think the leg belongs to Patrick, but I'm not sure because the top of the photo cuts the leg off at mid-thigh. During the Wintertide years I heard Maynard play pretty often. His tape Cast a Blue Shadow was recorded live at Wintertide's Five Corners location. After that -- not so often, but occasionally, and by then we were friendly acquaintances who would catch up once or twice a year on Main Street or Circuit Avenue or in line at the grocery store. The last conversation I remember happened maybe a year ago, in line at Reliable Market. He was looking good. I told him about Squatters' Speakeasy. He liked the idea. I said he had to play the lead in the movie: the main character in the story so far is an island bluesman who gigs as a carpenter for some of his living and caretakes for the rest. He liked that idea too. I like to think of him at the crossroads, jamming with his mentors and heroes, better than holding his own, maybe teaching them a few things.
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