Aug. 12, 1972: Belle Dowdall, the Bard of Buffalo

 


I finally get to meet the Bard of Buffalo in person. She was well worth the wait: 

Aug. 12, 1972

Belle’s Been Waiting

80 Years for a Hit 

“I’VE GOT a new song here they’re going to love down in Nashville,” Belle Dowdall says by way of greeting. “It’s going to be another million seller.”

        She says it so spryly you’d think she was joking again, but Mary Belle Dowdall, the Bard of Buffalo, means it. And as she’s said so often, she’s been waiting 80 years for a hit.

        “My room looks like a ticker tape parade,” she declares as she finds a battered cassette player on the floor. “Pete’s done it a little too fast here, but you’ll get the idea.”

* * *

OUT COMES the piano and the high nasal twang of Pete Hankerson, Belle’s musical arranger, the guy who transposes all her songs to paper.

        The tune is familiar. Like most of her songs, it suggests some old hymn or dusty popular melody that’s been long forgotten. The opening refrain is an ear catcher: “Music is my business, rhythm is my song …”

        Although there’s a spinet piano in the corner of her cluttered living room, Belle doesn’t read music, hasn’t played an instrument since one of her older brothers showed her a bit of mandolin some 70 years ago.

        What Belle does is sing the song into the cassette machine – straight from memory – and Pete takes care of the rest. Her compositions are heaven-struck inspiration in the purest form.

        “I get most of these songs in dreams,” she relates. “When you’re asleep, your mind is clear. The way I write a song, I feel a mood. I’m romantic and temperamental, you know.

* * *

“THE OTHER DAY I was sittin’ on the front porch and I got the feeling I’m going to cry. I went to my room and it passed and I lay down on the bed and said wait a minute, I’m going to express my feeling.”

        And she sings it, quietly, seriously as its words: 

“Sometime tonight I’m gonna cry about you,

Sometime tonight I’ll long to hold you tight.

But empty arms they’ve already told me

I’ll be cryin’ for a love that used to be.” 

        Her collaboration with country singer Steve Scott (see box) has improved her inspirations greatly, she says.

        So far there are two Steve Scott records with Belle’s songs – “Red Hot End,” about the world coming to judgment in 1972 (“Open up those gates, those pearly gates, I want to get a ringside view”), and “City of Souls,” which reflects Belle’s cheerful view of the afterlife.

        “I can turn a song out of anything,” she says. “Steve and I have never thrown a song into the garbage can. But we’ve thrown the garbage can into a song.”

        Before this, in 46 years of writing tunes, her biggest successes have come in commemorative or promotional efforts.

        She has a photo of her and collaborator Tommy Martin with a new DeSoto they won for writing “The Gates of Old New York,” which was chosen as the 1939 World’s Fair souvenir song.

* * *

THE EARLY ‘50s found her on local TV after she wrote something called “Hello Buffalo,” which the city adopted as an official song. She’s done one for New York State (to the tune of “On Top of Old Smokey”) and for this year’s Erie County Fair & Exposition.

        The fair song – she was asked to do it by a fair official she knows – weathered a last-minute lyric transplant when the fair folks insisted on including the words “And Exposition.” The revised version starts off like this: 

“On the 19th of August, you can take it from me,

There’s gonna be the biggest roundup you ever did see.

You can hear it, you can see it, you can feel it in the air;

Population explosion up in New York State

At the Erie County Fair & Exposition …” 

        “The boys in Memphis are pleased that I’m turning my attention to places in the South. I’ve written one about Kentucky bluegrass. Steve Scott says they’d better have a sense of humor ‘cause they’re going to need it.”

        Married and the mother of three boys and a girl, she came to Buffalo in 1922 from her childhood home in the Pennsylvania hills. She was the seventh of 12 children and she’s even converted her early years into a song.

        “Buttermilk 1892,” the year she was born, is full of references to buckwheat cakes and walking 20 miles to school and Lydia Pinkham’s pills.

        “It was castor oil and homemade pants, a pile of diapers too. And they pinned them on with carpet tacks in 1892,” one verse proclaims.

        For years she’d send her efforts to music publishers and back they’d come by return mail. So she decided to form her own music company when she could afford it. That happened in 1969.

        Headquarters for Bard of Buffalo Music Publishers is Belle’s ancient rooming house, obscured by trees on a dilapidated block not far from lower Niagara Street.

        It’s also the center of her primary charitable activity – feeding and looking after alcoholics, giving them books, cigarettes. Several wander quietly down from upstairs as we talk this rainy morning.

        Humanitarianism runs strong in her. During World War II, she operated a free soup kitchen on Elmwood Avenue for penniless soldiers. She gives records to the Red Cross, donates royalties from songs to wildlife preservation and other such causes.

        “After I get done making public appearances at the fair,” she says, “we’re going to start a $2 million project with the senior citizens for a nursing home near Columbus Hospital. There’ll be a room there for me too, if I need it.

* * *

“I’M NOT a lonesome old person. I don’t consider myself an old person. There’s nothing 80 about my body. The TV man said I have more zest than teenagers.

        “I get all kinds of marriage proposals. They all come from men in their 30s. I got one yesterday and I asked him how old he was. He said 38 and I said that’s too old.

        “But married life doesn’t appeal to me. I like seclusion. Songwriters have to know heartbreak and they have to live alone. My second husband would just say to people: ‘I married one of them crazy songwriters.’” 

The box/sidebar 

Singing Her Songs 

        In last November’s issue of Frontear Country, Buffalo’s country music magazine, Belle Dowdall spotted the man she was looking for, the man she could write a song for and make him a star.

        That was Steve Scott, by day a 31-year-old welder from Tonawanda and the father of two, by night a singer with a deep lonesome voice and leader of a band called The Country Music Circus.

        Within a couple months, Belle had him and his group into Act-One Sound Studios on Delaware Avenue, recording her songs. Two of them, “Red Hot End” and “City of Souls,” have been picked up by Select-O Hits from Memphis.

* * *

THERE’S AN ALBUM planned later this year and Steve and his band will be performing some of Belle’s songs at the Erie County Fair & Exposition.

        “Steve said I was rushing him,” Belle says, “and I said: ‘I’m 80, Steve, I’ve got to speed it up.’

        “Steve’s a man of many talents. He plays, sings, he writes songs and he’s tall and handsome and a good family man. I believe he’ll go a long way.

* * *

“HIM AND I have so much fun writing songs. We kick up such an emotional storm. We always fight on the telephone, but we never fight in person.”

        Belle also has lined up as a singer Bob Williams, a country music personality on WHLD, Niagara Falls. He’s due to go to Nashville soon to record two of her songs – a ballad called “Bring Your Broken Heart to Me” and “Bang Out the Beat,” which Belle describes as “a good old bar room song.”

* * * * *

IN THE PHOTOS: At left, Bob Williams, top, and Steve Scott. Top right, Belle Dowdall – the Bard of Buffalo, her records, sheet music and the spinet piano. “That picture’s a modern Mona Lisa,” she laughs. “It’ll send all the boys to the psychiatrist.”

* * * * *

FOOTNOTE: As noted in my story about Steve Scott on March 4, 1972, he was born in Reynoldsville, Pa., got good on guitar in the Army in Alaska, and came to Tonawanda in 1961 looking for a steady welding job. He had been leading his own band since the mid 1960s.

        Google doesn’t say much else about Steve. As for Belle, I found her in the Social Security Death Index. She lived for seven more years. One of her grandsons, F. Neil Chaffie, was a colleague of mine in the little bitty city room at the Dunkirk Evening Observer before I came to The News in 1968.

        Her second singing choice, WHLD’s Bob Williams, was a Western New York version of the Wichita Lineman. He worked on the wires for the Niagara Mohawk Power Corp. for 35 years and led a band called the Rainbow Ranch Boys. A lifelong Lewiston resident, he had the radio show from 1971 to 1977. He died at age 57 in 1989.

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