Doug Clark: Street Music Week right around the corner

Attention all ye players of tubas, ukuleles, mouth harps, accordions, guitars, nose whistles and kitchen appliances that can be subverted for musical purposes.

(Don’t snicker. A buddy of mine can nail the “William Tell Overture” by blowing air across the tip of a water-filled turkey baster.)

The fourth annual Spokane Street Music Week is less than a month away.

Departing from my usual state of procrastination, I am putting out an early call to anyone with musical proclivities and a sense of adventure. Together we will again fill downtown Spokane with good vibrations while raising money for the Second Harvest Food Bank.

This year’s festival will take place June 12-16 on city sidewalks during the noon hour.

Musicians of all skill levels are welcome. As Marilyn McCoo once warbled: “You don’t have to be a star, baby, to be in my show.”

Please use the contact information below. Leave your name and telephone number so I’ll know how many licenses, collection buckets and bail bondsman cards to distribute.

Despite soggy weather, last year’s festival drew about 30 street musicians. Over $1,200 was raised with every nickel going to the food bank. Based on the interest I’ve already received from musicians, Spokane Street Music Week could explode.

This year’s event is dedicated to the memory of Dax Johnson, the ultimate street musician and my friend.

Dax died last year in Los Angeles of an unintentional drug overdose. He was 30.

The first time I laid eyes on him it was 1995, and Dax was banging away on a 450-pound Wurlitzer piano he had set up in front of the Bon Marche. Though self-taught, Dax had extraordinary chops and a natural gift for musical composition.

He didn’t stay playing on the streets for long. Dax’s talents took him into recording studios and concert halls.

But I’ll never forget that initial meeting. Long-haired and tattooed, Dax amazed me as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

“People come up and ask me to play a certain song, but I don’t do that,” he told me during a break. “Instead, I ask them what their favorite mood is … When they tell me I just start playing.”

“Sticking to the subject of fallen friends, it’s time to say goodbye to Monte Holm.

A Moses Lake institution, Monte passed away on May 3 – just 10 days shy of his 90th birthday.

Monte was a former hobo who rode the rails during the Great Depression. He found his business niche dealing scrap metal in the Columbia Basin.

That’s how Monte made his fortune. His fame came from being the kindly curator of what Monte dubbed The House of Poverty Museum. It is a cavernous warehouse containing a vast and random assortment of cool stuff Monte amassed during his long life.

I paid my first visit to Monte’s museum in 1994. Located on West Broadway, it still qualifies as a true roadside attraction.

Inside, a visitor will find gleaming antique cars, old steam farm engines and branding irons. There is an ancient Singer sewing machine once used by a member of the Jesse James Gang. There is a musket that came over on the Mayflower.

Outside you can marvel at Monte’s private railroad.

Monte’s motto was simple: “I’ve never had a bad day.” He made a practice of giving candy or a small gift to everyone he met. As I noted in the column I wrote about him, “it doesn’t take long for a visitor to conclude that the crown jewel at the House of Poverty Museum is really this old man in a moth-eaten brown sweater and sweat-stained straw hat.”

Although Monte is gone, his treasure chest lives on. Steven Rimple, one of Monte’s grandsons, told me the House of Poverty Museum is still open to the public – and at no charge.

Last Saturday, which would have been Monte’s 90th, more than 200 people gathered in downtown Moses Lake. They came to watch the dedication of a Monte Holm mural on the post office.

“He is still watching over the city,” proclaimed a headline in the Columbia Basin Herald.

Rest in peace, Monte.