Cornish Concertina Blues: Call To Me Penmarlam

Bethlehem Trevarrian dropped off the late-running westbound dry goods at Lostwithiel in the early hours of 15th July 1934. He had travelled overnight from St Columb and, despite the season, his limbs were stiff from the dawn air as he slung his bedroll over his shoulder and started the day’s walk. With the rising sun at his back, he crossed the goods yard tracks and made for the small cluster of buildings that abutted the permanent way. The first door at which he knocked was slammed sharply shut before he could make his plea for food or a hot drink; the same thing occurred at all subsequent dwellings.
Having washed his face and filled his rusted bottle at the riverside, Trevarrian sat down to rest in a shady corner of a nearby churchyard. He ate the stale and coal-blackened piece of bread that he had found in his pocket and rested his head against the moss of a gravestone. His peace was soon disturbed however - firstly by an elderly tramp who asked him how long it was until Christmas, and secondly by the local Reverend who made it very clear that God had no desire to play host to wastrels on His land and minimal patience with those too feckless to provide for themselves.
Wordlessly Bethlehem Trevarrian limped away in the direction of the High Street. At each shop he came to he enquired as to whether there was any employment opportunity within for an able bodied man of good character and sober temperament; and at each shop he came to he was told to move on. (The fishmonger was, by all accounts, the least welcoming of the traders, adding several nautical and obscurely blasphemous insults to his refusal.) Similarly, at the King’s Arms, Trevarrian’s offer to do a day’s pot washing in return for a piece of bread or a sandwich was met with derision, cat calls and threats of actual bodily harm.
He continued walking, looking in every window, doorway and passing face for the glimmer of an opportunity, or the kind word that would bring about a change in his fortune. Smart couples moved to the other side of the pavement as he approached; crowds of children surrounded him, squealing with laughter at his appearance and piteous state; and at the end of the street a local constable, silhouetted against the evening sky, brandished his truncheon in preparation. Trevarrian turned on his heel and took the road to the edge of town.
As the sun set, Bethlehem Trevarrian sat down at the Penquite crossroads. He lay his grimy bedroll in the grass beside him, rested his back against the four-handed sign and closed his eyes.
A stranger’s footsteps, some hours later, woke him from his tormented slumber. Using the last of his strength, Trevarrian stared up at the newcomer. The latter smiled and handed over a small box before walking away.
With a mumbled word of confused thanks, Trevarrian watched the man’s figure disappear into the night before turning his attention to the box. Opening it he found a handwritten note wrapped around a rusted harmonica.
“Having witnessed your plight,” the note began, “I wished to make some small gesture of help. With little else to give, I will make do with passing on this small instrument. It used to belong to my son and it brought him great joy. Through playing for strangers, it also brought him the occasional tossed coin in hard times. I hope it brings you the same.”
Bethlehem Trevarrian looked the harmonica over and blew gently through its dusty reeds before returning it carefully to its box. The trace of a smile crossed his face as he hoisted his bedroll onto his back and made once more for the goods yard and the train that would take him to the next town along the road.
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There is some evidence to suggest that Trevarrian’s harmonica can be heard between the second and third verses of this recording of Call To Me Penmarlam captured at Two Waters’ Foot in May 1935. There is absolutely no evidence, however, to suggest that his playing ever elevated him from the very lowest rung on the ladder of poverty, and parish archives record that he died intestate at the Quintrell Downs workhouse less than a year later. As to whether the gifted instrument brought any of the joy that its giver intended, the listener may decide for him or herself.
Other players featured on this recording include Slim Tregantle, Reginald Lanhydrock, Crutches Carluddon and, on claps, Ezra “Hambone” Pentecost.