Half of winning is showing up, they say. And your shot at glory in the Yellow Pine Harmonica Festival’s signature competition fades quickly if you’re out of earshot.
“Connor Fuller!” one organizer yelled before being corrected on the last name and shouting again.
But no Connor of any kind responded.
“Alright, how about John Frase?”
This time, the man himself was there to correct the mispronunciation.
“John Frazer? That’s me!” he said.
Harmonica suspended in a rack over his billowing white beard – he showed up hungry. He took his seat on the The Corner bar’s porch, shaded from the baking high noon sun at the north end of Yellow Pine’s one-, maybe two-block downtown. He started strumming something bluesy.
“If it keeps on rainin’, the levee’s gonna break!” he sang between harmonica riffs.
Opening with a Led Zeppelin medley, he soon had the audience in his hands. The judges – a panel of three accomplished harmonica players – watched quietly from the end of the patio.
![The three-member harmonica competition judge panel listens to a contestant.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/9e0264d/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2100x1400+0+0/resize/880x587!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F49%2Fbd%2F91386eb0415e96096a80e94880ec%2Fyp-harmonica-23.jpg)
Max Brobeck – sporting a flamboyantly painted pair of white overalls – soon took the stage to give Frazer a run for his money.
![Harmonica competition contestant Max Brobeck](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/cc8d41e/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2100x1400+0+0/resize/880x587!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F21%2Fee%2Fa6f2fa6d4a2aa56f2cfd29494a4c%2Fyp-harmonica-24.jpg)
Stomping, singing and playing furiously, he too drew the crowd in. A tambourine started up somewhere, and feet – including this reporter’s – started stomping along. Like Frazer, the audience saw him off the stage with enthusiastic applause.
Once all competitors had their go, Deb Filler, the outgoing festival director, announced that the winners would be announced later that Saturday afternoon.
A lifeline
Earlier, sitting on her front porch swing with musicians practicing nearby, Filler said the gathering traces its roots back to 1990, when then-Idaho governor Cecil Andrus called on communities to organize events in honor of the Gem State’s centennial anniversary. They were supposed to be one-offs.
“We are an unincorporated village,” Filler explained. “And that's why we have continued to hold this festival, is because we have no tax base. So in order to do road maintenance, ditch maintenance, take care of our community hall, pay insurance and utilities for the village, we have to raise our own funds. And that's what this does.”
![A sign at the edge of Yellow Pine puts the unincorporated village's winter population at 30sh, and the summer population at 50sh.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/b824984/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2100x1400+0+0/resize/880x587!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F7f%2Ff4%2F05c613b44369a798b9f7007b00fe%2Fyp-harmonica-2.jpg)
Mining used to be the lifeblood of Yellow Pine, and other remote Central Idaho communities near the Stibnite Mining District. During World War II, Stibnite had a population of 1,500 and produced 90% of the country’s antimony and 40% of its tungsten. That work slowed to a stop in the mid-1990s, but the festival’s harmonica theme is a nod to that legacy.
“The miners that used to be in this area always carried harmonicas in their pocket so they could have music,” Filler said.
While the event, camping, and parking are all free, raffles, community meals, vendor booth fees, shirt sales and other fundraising efforts bring in essential dollars. The goal is $10,000 to meet the town’s basic needs.
“Which doesn't sound like much, but it is for us,” Filler said. Several days after festivities ended, she said the take was better than last year’s, and the event would have its seed money for 2025.
Owners of the handful of local businesses say the festival is one of their best weeks. Paddy Warren, who owns the Yellow Pine Tavern with his wife Leslie, said “it's good weekends like this, and good festivals all around the state for all small communities, that help business owners get through the winter, or whenever their slow period is. It really helps to give you a cushion business-wise.”
![A musician takes a break at the Yellow Pine Tavern](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/e7f5f38/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2100x1400+0+0/resize/880x587!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F82%2F89%2F6e331c944b02bcb0caec8e7c2429%2Fyp-harmonica-27.jpg)
‘Dance your ass off’
Later on Saturday, twilight was hanging over the towering peaks that form the northern edge of Yellow Pine; the stage on that side of town glows in the spreading darkness. On a whim, Boise-based Lee Penn Sky invited percussionists from other acts up to play with him, in keeping with the festival’s informal spirit.
![Boise-based musician Lee Penn Sky](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/dc7944d/2147483647/strip/true/crop/1400x2100+0+0/resize/880x1320!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2Ff6%2F65%2Fef4793304624b77bcf1cd37d09c2%2Fyp-harmonica-7.jpg)
“I see a bunch of, like, drummer people, kind of percussion people in the crowd. Can we, like, maybe turn on one of those mics and let them practice?” he asked the sound guy.
Doubled in size, the newly enlarged band soon caught its stride, and a crowd of flailing dancers grew in front of the stage. One of them – Kailyn Wright – was enjoying her third festival, and said she’ll never miss another one.
“Don't come here,” she said mischievously. “No, I'm just kidding. Definitely come. It's a good time. Be weird and dance your ass off!”
After the show, Lee said he’s been to a number of Yellow Pine festivals over the years. Like the other musicians, he wasn’t getting paid.
“We're all volunteers, because the whole point of the festival is to make money for the village of Yellow Pine, to get through the winter,” he said.
![The Yellow Pine Harmonica Festival in full swing on Friday night](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/544be93/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2100x1400+0+0/resize/880x587!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fdf%2F26%2F6f11ea374d28a6945601d70e057c%2Fyp-harmonica-10.jpg)
He loves the party, the laid-back vibes, the sharing and learning of music.
“It's a long way to get here, but it's worth it,” he said.
The harmonica family grows
Early Saturday afternoon, the moment of truth arrives. A set of harmonicas, stage time with a headliner and a slot at next year’s festival are on the line.
“First place in the 2024 Yellow Pine Harmonica Contest … John Frazer!”
Frazer, who’s been playing since the 70s, road tripped with a friend all the way from San Diego, a more than 1,000-mile journey.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get up here next year,” he said, adding that he’s hoping someone with a plane can fly him to the nearby airstrip. The harmonica is no idle pastime for John; he teared up talking about the people – like fellow members of the Society for the Preservation and Advancement of the Harmonica – with whom he shares a reverence for it.
“It’s my family,” he said.
And you can watch the harmonica family grow in real time in Yellow Pine every year. Recent graduates of the beginner/early intermediate course at the festival took the stage earlier in the day to debut their band, the Hardy Harpers – to the acclaim of the crowd.
![Members of the Hardy Harpers perform for the first time](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/b07cf25/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2100x1400+0+0/resize/880x587!/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F2e%2F08%2Fe30cda3b49e8b8175bef391d5b7d%2Fyp-harmonica-15.jpg)
Over at the community center, you could hear the newest generation of harmonica players being formed.
While playing a bluesy ditty, Roby Kap, a competition judge who has been to most festivals, welcomed a steady stream of kids – nearly 30 ranging from toddlers to pre-teens. Each was given a harmonica of their own.
“Anybody can't use it,” he explained. “It's yours. Just like your toothbrush.”
Harmonicas in hand, Roby turned to a classic tune.
“We're gonna try ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’,” Kap said to his mostly attentive class. “We already sung it, so we all, everybody knows it.”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the room filled with discordant, earnest noise. But as with anything, you have to start somewhere.
Next year's harmonica festival will be from July 31 to August 2. For more information about the event and Yellow Pine, click here.
This story was produced by the Mountain West News Bureau, a collaboration between Wyoming Public Media, Nevada Public Radio, Boise State Public Radio in Idaho, KUNR in Nevada, KUNC in Colorado and KANW in New Mexico, with support from affiliate stations across the region. Funding for the Mountain West News Bureau is provided in part by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.