gathered round in small circles at the Wake and the Memorial Service and
told Malcolm stories to each other almost non-stop ... mostly, I guess,
because there seems to be a liberal amount of mental anesthesia applied
when doing so.
One of the recurring themes in Malcolm stories is that he always came prepared, whether it was to a gig, or to a two week camping trip in the wilds. One of my favorite Malcolm memories illustrating this very trait was back in the Houston Heights when I still had to have my daily dose of 5 String Banjo picking to make it through a day with sanity intact. It was my custom to ease the morning transition to wide awake status with a cup of coffee and a banjo in my hands. Malcolm, being a late sleeper, would often stumble out of the front bedroom and lurch sleepily to where I was grinning and picking to myself with his hand held out ... wordlessly proffering a banjo mute ... I don't know where he got them all - and he always seemed to have a few of them very close at hand - but he never left any doubt as to why.
Malcolm loved to sleep and could do so longer than most folks you'll ever meet, but he apparently had to sneak up on it ... and he had good ears. I've loved clocks since discovering the clock galleries in the museums of Europe and England, and I take pride in always having a nice grandfather clock or two and a couple of antique grandmother wall clocks hanging about, all with chimes tuned for sweetness of tone and maximum volume. During his periodic visits, and as soon as the house quieted down for sleep, Malcolm would pad about stopping the pendulum of each and every clock in the house so they wouldn't tick or chime. He could not sleep if there was a clock ticking or chiming within bat ear shot. I never thought I would say this, but I will miss resetting those old clocks so often ... and I will remember Malcolm every time I am forced to do so.
Karl A. Caillouet
|Nine year old
Bryan Fowler, Pat and Becky's son and Malcolm's nephew, came up with
a beautiful picture of Malcolm.
"Malcolm was like Johnny Appleseed. He went around the country spreading music (instead of apples) AND he was friends with the animals and loved nature too."
Bryan said this as we were driving back to Houston, late at night, after having been at the memorial and having been at the lake house with Christi and others. It had gotten quiet in the car (with Pat, Jim Gannon, Sara and I) and Bryan said this in such a thoughtful, quiet voice. It was one of those 'awe' moments. He really 'hit it on the nail' about Malcolm. For him, that is how he saw Malcolm because he would come up here (to Idaho) and we would have a burst of musical inspiration and go on outdoor adventures and he would play with our dogs, cats and horses.
||Pat Smith (Malcolm's Mom): Malcolm explaining about cat-gut violin strings to Darla...who lives next door.|
||Pat Smith: Cantiga in the gazebo at the Texas Renaissance Festival, 1995.|
|Malcolm at the Texas Renaissance Festival in 1995.|
||The last known photograph taken of Malcolm. The photo was taken of "Cantiga" playing in the gazebo at the Texas Renaissance Festival on Saturday, October 26, 1996. With Malcolm are Martha Gay on harp, Max Dyer on cello and Bob Bielefeld on flute.|
|Malcolm onstage at Anderson Fair during a set with Linda Lowe. Photo courtesy of Dalis Allen.|
|Linda and Malcolm at the Cynthia Woods Pavillion, The Woodlands, Texas, where they played for Frank Sinatra's crowd. Photo courtesy of Dalis Allen.|
|Malcolm, backstage at the Cynthia Woods Pavillion. Photo courtesy of Dalis Allen.|
|Linda Lowe and Malcolm warming up, Cynthia Woods Pavillion. Photo courtesy of Dalis Allen.|
|Sara Draper: In the early 1980's, Malcolm composed for, and performed with, some of Houston's modern dance artists. Here is my favorite of him from a Houston Contemporary Dance Company brochure.|
|Pat Smith: England...1969.. Malcolm just back from a trip to Spain with his first flamenco guitar. The picture was made at Central High School, Bushy Heath, U.K. where Malcolm was a senior.|
Photo collages were compiled by Christi Potter and Jim Hancock from old photo's in Malcolm's collection and some donated for the cause by Renaissance Festival friends.
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|webmanager: Becky Smith|