"Marmaduke's Hornpipe" and Me

Imagine my surprise! I was sitting around at the Folk School of St. Louis one day earlier this week, waiting for one of my dulcimer students to show up and happened to pick up an old copy of The Devil’s Box to read. The Devil’s Box was a now defunct magazine about fiddling and fiddlers that ran for a few years. There was an article in this particular issue written by Dr. Howard Marshall (whose Fiddling Missouri CD on the Voyager label is well worth having, by the way) on the tune "Marmaduke’s Hornpipe". Now, this is a tune I really enjoy playing, so the article was a much welcome time-killer.

Right at the beginning, Dr. Marshall remarks that the tune is probably named for John Sappington Marmaduke, whose maternal grandfather was Dr. John Sappington, a pioneer in the use of quinine as a treatment for malaria and resident of the Little Dixie area of Missouri. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I literally had to gasp when I read that.

You see, my great grandfather on my mother’s side was Eugene Sappington, son of John Sappington of Sappington, Missouri just outside of St. Louis where I live. Our John Sappington was a close relative of the Little Dixie John Sappington. Or so the family lore goes. Possibly a son, though our family history is vague on this point. Eugene was the original owner of one of the fiddles I play today. Or maybe it was his father, John. Again, it's kind of vague.

Over the years, I’ve heard many stories at family gatherings about our old John Sappington and his accomplishments. My grandmother often talked about him. I’ve toured the Sappington house in what is now Crestwood, MO knowing that this was his house and having my grandmother tell me of playing in it when she was a child; heard stories (true or not, I don't know) about how the house was a stop on the underground railway during the Civil War; heard stories about how his son, my great grandfather, had a barbershop in the Crestwood/Afton area and how he and my great grandmother Rose got married. I’ve always had a spot of pride for that branch of the family. But now that I know I’m related through old John to the fellow for whom “Marmaduke’s” is named, I could about burst with pride.

And that I play that tune on that fiddle! I wonder; did old John ever listened to his son play that hornpipe on that fiddle? I wonder if J. S. Marmaduke ever sat with his kinfolk over a cup of coffee at the Sappington house and listened, as well.

And had my student not been caught in traffic on that Tuesday afternoon, I might never have known about this. Wow! Life is indeed stranger than fiction.

I suppose that there is some genealogical work in my future to run down the facts of my kinship to Marmaduke and his hornpipe.