Doc Tommy Scott’s Medicine Show Memories with Randall Franks

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Randall Franks, Officer Randy Goode of TV’s In the Heat of the Night, hosts “Doc” Tommy Scott’s Medicine Show Memories. Franks was Scott’s final celebrity co-star on his Last Real Old Time Medicine Show which was America’s second-longest-running production next to Barnum and Bailey from 1890-2013.
Franks features performances from the show spanning its history with initial webisodes emphasis on the 1970s and 1980s. Scott was a 1940s Grand Ole Opry star, TV Star and Western Film Star who recorded hundreds of songs over eighty years and performed for hundreds of millions of Americans and Canadians while entertaining six days a weeks in live shows, television, radio and films. The series is produced by Katona Productions with Peach Picked Productions.

Check out Ramblin’ Tommy Scott TV on YouTube to find dozens of videos highlighting Scott’s career through television appearances and interviews and the web series Medicine Show Memories. https://www.youtube.com/@ramblindoctommyscott3626

Medicine Show Memories Playlist including all webisodes 

 

Doc Tommy Scott and Randall Franks on the set of Still Ramblin’ in 1999 at The Georgia Music Hall of Fame.

Visit DocTommyScott.com 

Speaking Your Success into Being

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Have you ever wondered why we have a tongue? Is it merely a tool to utter nonsense to those around us? Not everything that rolls off our lips is trivial—far from it. Words hold power, and what we speak can shape our lives in ways we might not expect.

Consider a night from my youth. I sat with my mother after watching the premiere of In the Heat of the Night. Inspired, I turned to her and declared, “If I’m ever on television, it’ll be on this show.” I had no plan, no connections—just a bold thought I voiced aloud. Some might have dismissed it as a childish boast, but five months later, I stood on that set. God planted the idea; I spoke it, claimed it, and He moved. That moment taught me our tongues can breathe life into dreams.

History echoes this truth. Consider the Committee of Five—Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston—who drafted the Declaration of Independence. Four of them are my kin, and while I share their blood, it was God who gifted them words that altered destinies. Scribed and proclaimed by town criers across the colonies, their syllables birthed a nation. Were they uniquely blessed? Yes, but their example reveals what’s possible when inspired speech meets divine purpose.

What have you spoken over your life lately? We may not draft nations, but we pen the founding documents of our own stories. Whether whispered in prayer, shared with loved ones, or written in quiet moments, our words carry weight. Faith tells us they can unlock extraordinary opportunities. Psalms 130:2 pleads, “Lord, hear my voice: let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications,” reflecting the hope that God listens—“From our lips to His ears.” If He plants the thought, He waits for us to claim it aloud.

Does every claim come to pass? If it aligns with His will and our covenant as Christians, I believe it can. Yet caution is key. Proverbs 18:21 warns, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” We can just as easily speak disaster as blessing. A modern echo, often tied to Ralph Waldo Emerson, adds, “Be careful what you set your heart upon, for it surely shall be yours.” Our speech shapes reality.

So, be mindful of what you utter. Your tongue can curse or bless, destroy or build. I urge you—set a positive future in motion. Speak life, uplift others, and create momentum for God’s purpose. Your success may well begin with the next words you say.

Is There Value in Knowing Where You Came From?

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We cleared the supper plates, leaving a few pieces of fried chicken, boiled ‘taters, and garden-fresh green beans to cover for tomorrow. The smell of fresh-baked cornbread hung in the kitchen as Aunt Short sliced her homemade chocolate pie, passing wedges around the table. With dessert and fresh-brewed coffee in hand, I knew the adults would settle in for hours of storytelling. Uncle Jay slipped out to toss wood on the fire, then returned, packing his pipe with tobacco. As he lit it, smoke curled above his head, and tales began tumbling from their tongues.
Since I was a child, I’ve been spellbound by the old folks’ stories—shared around that table or by the hearth’s flicker. One favorite took me to Fort Watauga, 1776, amid the struggles to settle western North Carolina. Cherokee warriors under Old Abraham laid a two-week siege, arrows and musket balls flying as settlers returned fire from the fort. “Jump, my Bonnie Kate!” Uncle John Sevier hollered, yanking her over the wall—she’d been caught milking cows outside. That daring rescue sparked a love that’d one day make them Tennessee’s first Governor and First Lady.
My kin—the Scottish Kilgores and English Sherrills—joined the Overmountain Men, marching to Kings Mountain to rout the British. Along the way, they picked up the German Weirs. Sitting quietly, I soaked up decades of wisdom from ancestors living and dead—Scottish bagpipes rallying our men, fiddles driving frontier trade days. Patriots fought at Trenton and Kings Mountain, settlers clashed with Native Americans, and later generations endured Shiloh’s bloodied fields and Normandy’s beaches.
Closer to home, family feuds simmered for decades. Grandpa’s scars bore witness—seven healed-over knife wounds from a brawl he barely survived, a bullet lodged too deep to remove. Mama’d recount those close calls, her voice hushed, fueling my young imagination with heroes among our kin. Another memory lingers: an old family saint who’d ask strangers, “Who are your people?” Give her a name, and she’d spin chapters of their history—tidbits even they didn’t know—tying us to the past with a knowing grin.
Little survived of the world before American shores, just scraps from Scotland, Ireland, England, and Germany. Names, songs, and tunes lingered, played on instruments handed down since the 1600s. Generations settled land, founded towns, and drifted south and west from New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Virginia, rooting deep in Tennessee, Kentucky, and Georgia.
At 12, I began digging—courthouse to courthouse, graveyard to graveyard. Now, the internet unearths wonders with a click. Those bagpipes hailed from clans who won Scotland’s freedom under Robert the Bruce. German kin shaped Lutheran theology, Irish forebears defied Cromwell, and an English ancestor—Geoffrey Chaucer—penned The Canterbury Tales.
Every century’s tales show what our folks endured, letting us walk tall, proud of who we are. Learn your people’s stories—it’s no accident you’re here. You carry the dreams of generations, meant to shape the future.

God’s Piloting Spirit

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Years back, I had a show in a small North Carolina mountain town I’d never visited, though I’d played many nearby. Wanting a scenic drive, I planned extra time to meander through the mountains and arrive well ahead of schedule.
I’ve never trusted electronic GPS—printed maps were always my go-to. But this time, I consulted an online mapping service before leaving home and printed the directions. With a smile, my truck packed, and a sense of adventure, I set off into the unknown.
The drive was pleasant, winding through Tennessee toward North Carolina, until the directions went awry. I turned off a major highway onto a quiet county road, then a rougher one, then a gravel track. Soon, I was rattling along a dirt path—two lanes shrinking to one, pocked with dips and holes. I pressed on in faith until I hit a farm gate blocking a pasture. The internet map had led me to a dead end.
If this were a leisurely jaunt, I might’ve laughed it off. But with a job ahead and time slipping away, stress crept in. I still had hours to travel and a deadline to meet. Inch by inch, I turned my truck around on that narrow lane and retraced my steps to the last decent road. I stepped out, glanced at the sun, checked my watch, and reckoned the direction I needed. Pointing my truck accordingly, I navigated a web of backroads until I hit a familiar state highway. Pedal down, I rolled into town just half an hour late—still early enough to prep and take the stage, hoping to make memories for the crowd.
The conventional route would’ve taken three and a half hours. My “adventure” stretched it to six. Trusting my instincts had pulled me out of the wilderness, but had I leaned on them from the start, the day might’ve stayed leisurely instead of turning tense.
Why share this? On the surface, it’s a simple lesson: don’t blindly trust tech. Dig deeper, and it’s more universal. When we let others chart our course, we risk veering off track—sometimes innocently, sometimes not. I recovered thanks to a frontier spirit inherited from ancestors who braved unmapped wilds on foot and horseback. But what if I hadn’t?
It’s a reminder to weigh who’s guiding us. Do they care about our success? Maybe that’s why Reno & Smiley sang, “I’m Using My Bible for a Road Map.” God’s guidance—through spirit and sense—steered me where I needed to be, using my gifts to touch others. So, are you relying on GPS, or God’s Piloting Spirit?

Fool’s Gold: Lessons from a Childhood Quest

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From childhood, I learned that not everything that glitters is gold.

I remember my boyhood experiences as a child playing by myself around a nearby creek. The gurgling of the water as it rushed over the rocks always filled my soul with a sense of peace. The sounds of the birds simply became an orchestra of a soundtrack beneath the creek sounds.

I was pulling rocks from the bottom of the creek to begin a fort, and I stirred up a flurry of gold glittering in the water. I thought, I’ve struck gold. This would solve those financial problems I heard my parents talking about.

I decided to collect as much as I could that day and bring it home to share with my folks.

I had seen in westerns the miners panning for gold, so I pedaled home quietly entered in the back door avoiding my mom, borrowing a pan and a shovel from the garage.

After coming back I panned for the little flakes compiling them in a repurposed tobacco sack now used for marbles.

After endless hours of the endeavor, darkness was coming on, so I collected my gains, my tools and got on my bike and pedaled home to beat the street lights from coming on.

When everything was put away, I proudly presented my day’s endeavors to my dad.

He opened the sack, looked inside and said, “Son, come over here.” He lifted me up upon his knee and said to me look inside this bag. I did thinking how proud I was of my efforts.

Beside the bag he held out his ring finger which held his wedding band and said, “Now, look at my ring. Does what you have in the bag look like what’s on my finger?”

I looked back and forth between the sack and his ring and I looked up at him and said,

“They are different. Why are they different?”

He smiled and said, “Because, son, all that glitters is not gold. What you have here is a bag of iron pyrite, often called ‘fool’s gold’.”

“So, it’s not worth anything?”, I asked.

“Well let’s think on that,” he said. “How long did you spend on gathering this bag?”

I told him all day. He asked me if I worked hard at it and I told him that I was plum tuckered out.

“Did you enjoy the time you did it?” he asked.

“I did,” I told him.

“Have you learned anything from the experience?” he inquired.

“Yes, I learned that sometimes you can spend all day trying to get the gold and come home empty-handed,” I said.

He said that is a good lesson, but another one was not to jump at every shiny thing in life.

“If you do, you may find out too late that shiny things are not what is best for you in your life,” he said.

Before he set me back down, he pulled the drawstring on the bag, handed it back to me.

“Son, thank you for what you tried to do for our family,” he said. “Your heart was in the right place. Just keep trying.

“Next time, you may just find a true treasure. Just learn a bit and maybe talk to me about it before jumping feet first into it,” he counseled. “Also, I would get your mom’s skillet washed and put back before she realizes you were using it.”

I smiled and climbed off his knee.

“Son, why don’t you put that bag on your bedpost? I think when you see it, it will remind you that bright and shiny isn’t always what’s best for us,” he said.

“Sure Pa,” I said.

Not too long ago, I was going through some boxes in my attic, and ran across that white bag of fool’s gold, I was reminded the adventure of that day was such a great memory. I could almost hear the creek again emanating from the iron pyrite in my hand.

That childhood lesson has tempered my choices throughout my life. I found those shiny things my father was talking about are more than just gold. They could be a beautiful girl, a flashy car, a better job, a big house or every imaginable toy an adult might want.

While, sometimes I have weakened being drawn for a time to shiny things, I have managed to step back from the precipice before jumping feet first without a full review of what I was about to swallow hook, line and sinker.

Are you jumping for every shiny thing that comes your way? Maybe, it’s time to look more deeply into your personal bag of fool’s gold before you buy that next thing that glitters in front of you.

Chasing Success: A Personal Odyssey

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What is success? Some would say it’s landing the job that represents the pinnacle of one’s vocation. Others might point to the amassing of money, houses, cars, or other assets. We watch television shows where celebrities appear, dressed in fine clothes and adorned with jewels, seeming to have it all. Perhaps that’s the version of success some strive to achieve. If one could write a popular book, find their stride as an athlete, or invent something everyone needs, those would certainly be seen as measures of success.

From my late parents’ perspective, success was being loved, raising a family, paying all your bills, helping others when needs arose, and ending each year hopefully a little better off financially than the year before.

In short, success is the achievement of something desired, planned, or attempted, or the gaining of fame or prosperity. However, I believe success is defined by each of us based on our own set of circumstances and the vision we have for our life or the aspirations we hold for those we love. Thus, it’s not set in stone but rather a moving target.

Encouraged by my parents, I became the first in my extended family to attend and graduate from college. I worked my way through it and still take great pride in this achievement. However, apart from holding my own among other college graduates, I’ve seen little additional success from that degree hanging on my wall.

God’s intervention in my life led me to work within the gifts He bestowed upon my spirit—music, acting, and writing. My parents also gifted me with a common-sense approach to life and business.

I recall a time when I was riding in a stretch black limousine from one of the nicest hotels in a major American city. With me were my long-time agent and a beautiful entertainer as my date. I remember looking up at the skyscrapers, thinking how blessed I was. We were dressed to the nines, on our way to a celebrity event with a red carpet. On the opposite side of the street were bleachers filled with spectators, and along the red carpet, every imaginable media outlet was there to interview those walking it. When the limo stopped, the red carpet announcer introduced me as I stepped out. There were rousing cheers from the crowd. I turned to assist my guest and my agent, both ladies, from the car, and we then walked the carpet, fielding questions before joining other acting and music celebrities at the event. To many, I’m sure I embodied their vision of success.

Yet, after returning home, I was back to figuring out which hat to shake for my next paycheck. From many such experiences in life, I have concluded that in order to grab a hold of success, one must work hard every day to reach new goals in each area—a new book, a new single or album, another tour, perhaps a new film or TV show role.

While I have managed to reach a certain level of success in several fields, there’s still much more to achieve to truly claim the brass ring in any of these endeavors.

Looking back at my life through my parents’ definition of success, I’ve succeeded in some ways, while in others, I’ve failed miserably. God provides the means to pay my bills. I’ve been blessed with the time to help others. However, I never managed to raise a family, which I regret more each day. Some years end with less financial success than the previous one. Am I loved? I would say sometimes I feel I am, other times I feel I am not. So, have I found success?

From my childhood understanding of success, the answer might be no. But after many years of creating my own understanding of success, I would say, yes. I am blessed that my career has allowed me to do things others might only dream about and, at the same time, to have a positive, encouraging impact on many.

Will I ever reach a point where I can say, “Well, I have reached the pinnacle of success”? I hope not. If there’s ever a day I don’t get up with a goal to accomplish, then I won’t feel like a success. Instead, I’d likely feel more useless.

Reflecting on my journey, I realize that my evolving perception of success has not only shaped my life but has also influenced those around me. When I was younger, success seemed like a destination marked by accolades and public recognition. Now, I see it as a journey, one that’s enriched by personal growth, the love we share, and the lives we touch. This shift in perspective has taught me to value the encouragement I offer others, the mentorship I provide, and the quiet moments of joy in my work over the fleeting applause of the public. As I’ve grown, so too has my definition of success, becoming less about the external markers and more about internal peace and contribution to others. This evolution in my understanding might be my true success, influencing not just my path but also those who have walked alongside me or followed my journey from afar.

So, in life, define what success is to you. Strive towards the path to reach it. Put the throttle forward, and go full steam ahead. Good luck!

Chaos in the Clothes Closet: Life’s Unexpected Lessons

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I heard the crackle and then the sound of a tree crashing to the ground. At least, that’s how it sounded in the dead of night.

I headed to the wall to turn on the light, but I stubbed my toe on the cedar bedpost. Holding my foot, I hopped over to the switch and flipped it on. When I could finally set my foot down, I found the source of the noise. Half my walk-in closet was now on the floor, like a chaotic thrift store; plaid shirts, blue, grey, and every shade of brown suits were wrestling for space. The metal shelves and shoes from above had joined the fray, leaving massive holes where anchors once held.

I wish I could say I took it in stride, but with my toe throbbing, I was more annoyed at the timing than anything. I decided to leave the mess for morning, turned off the lights, and crawled back into bed.

The next day, I moved each suit to the guest room bed, laying them out like patients in recovery. The white shelving and supports were next, placed on the guest room’s hardwood floor. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months without any motivation to fix it, until a call reminded me the guest room was needed.

Isn’t life like that sometimes? Unexpected, like a closet collapsing or a water leak in the bathroom. Or it could be more profound—a job loss, an accident, or a life-altering diagnosis. We’re not the sole authors of our lives, but how we react is our choice. Do we greet adversity with a grimace or with hope?

I’ve seen both types of people: those who seem to carry the world’s sadness, their anger and profanity a constant leak. And then there are those with an inner fortitude, facing even the gravest of circumstances with a strength that seems unbreakable.

Which one do you want to be? I choose the latter, striving to face life’s trials with the faith and determination that can transform even a simple task like rebuilding shelves into something empowering.*

So, with a new resolve, I’ll rebuild the shelves, straighten the guest room, and as Mr. Rourke from “Fantasy Island” would say, “Smiles, everyone, smiles….” Keep smilin’ no matter what comes your way!

Southern Crossing

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“Award-Winning Author and Actor Randall Franks Unveils New Southern Crime Novella: ‘Southern Crossing: Ithaca’s Legacy'”

Southern Crossing : Ithaca’s Legacy is Randall’s latest book. Award-winning author, journalist, and actor Randall Franks, known for his role as “Officer Randy Goode” on “In the Heat of the Night,” introduces his 12th book, “Southern Crossing: Ithaca’s Legacy.” This 172-page novella marks his second work of fiction, following the 2016 release “A Badge or an Old Guitar: A Music City Murder Mystery.”

Experience the life of Miss Allie Mae Wilson, the indomitable matriarch of Ithaca, where time seems to have paused amidst the rolling fields of Henton, Mississippi. Born into a legacy of Southern aristocracy, Allie’s days are woven with the threads of tradition, love, and loss, set against the backdrop of a changing world.

From her childhood, rich with the innocence of pastoral life, to the harsh realities of war that claimed her loved ones, Allie’s journey is one of resilience and grace. As the last Wilson to steward Ithaca, she navigates the complexities of modern times with the poise of a bygone era, her life a delicate balance between maintaining the past and facing an uncertain future.

But when the shadow of financial ruin looms over her ancestral home, Allie’s resolve is tested. A ruthless developer, James Harris, plots to seize the land and threatens to bulldoze her history into oblivion, unaware of the secrets buried beneath. Yet, it’s not just ta Southern legend that defines her story; it’s Allie’s unyielding spirit, her bond with the faithful Craven, and her connection to her nephew Henton police officer Jesse Wilson, that breathes life into Ithaca’s walls.

“Southern Crossing: Ithaca’s Legacy” is a poignant tale of one woman’s dedication to her family’s heritage, her fight to preserve a way of life, and the quietRandall Franks moments of joy and sorrow that shape her existence. As secrets from the past rise to the surface, Allie must decide what to hold onto and what to let go. Join her in this heartfelt journey that celebrates the enduring power of home, legacy, and the human spirit.

“I’m thrilled to bring readers into the world of ‘Southern Crossing: Ithaca’s Legacy,’ where they’ll meet Miss Allie Mae Wilson, the indomitable matriarch of Ithaca,” Franks said. “In the rolling fields of Henton, Mississippi, time seems to stand still, and Allie’s story unfolds with depth and drama.”

Peach Picked Publishing will release “Southern Crossing: Ithaca’s Legacy” in late March 2025. The book will be available here and on Amazon alongside Franks’ other works.

Join the journey of the Wilson family—pre-order your copy today for $10 plus shipping.

Pre-order your copy Today and it will be mailed upon it’s release in March 2025.

The blessings of knowing folks

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Could you imagine a life in which you were totally isolated possibly living in a secluded cabin in the mountains of Alaska or somewhere else?
There are some who would easily find their bliss in that situation. Perhaps, I would be one of those, at least that is the way I feel on some days.
Then something will happen that I realize I am not an island even if I like to consider myself one sometimes.
It could be a more intricate house or car repair that requires the help of a talented friend, or perhaps some unexpected calamity that causes me to be laid up for a bit. Then I realize the importance of my church family or even the real ones.
I think back to the first time I ever found myself needing someone other than my mother and father. I was out riding bikes with my friends, when I ended up with the chain locking up as I was going extremely fast down a paved hill. Next thing I know I am flying across the handle bars and sliding as fast as I could down the paved road until I hit a bunch of garbage cans at the curve of the street. It seemed like a half a mile before I stopped hitting those cans.
Thankfully my friends were able to get me up and the lady whose garbage cans I hit came out to help me. The shirt I was wearing was torn up by the pavement, leaving my torso as well as my legs below my shorts covered with sores.
I was a mess. After I was cover in iodine though, I really looked pitiful and it took quite a while for all those spots to scab over and heal up. So, I was sore for quite a while, and that neighbor and my friends got my bike home and me so where my mom could look me after.
After my father passed away, I found myself thrown into the care of the systems of our family home for my distraught mother. The heating unit went out, and thankfully I had played music with someone who owned a HVAC company who sent out one of his men to take care of things and install a new system at a rate better than any other company would. When the roof started leaking, some music fans who did that kind of work and volunteered to drive about 80 miles to roof our house once again, at a special rate.
While all those good Samaritans who helped me out when I needed it, are gone except for my childhood friends who are lost to the wind mainly, Their gifts to me solidified my faith in knowing that we all survive to the best of our abilities when we create good relationships, make friends, and build a life beyond ourselves and our selfish desires.
It taught me the tools that I needed to also be like those people and help others when I could and sometimes when I really couldn’t, but I tried.
God sees within our hearts and knows when we need help and when we need to help others. I think he sends us folks sometimes so that we can stretch our talents and our personality as we learn to outreach to others.
Throughout my life, he has sent others to uplift me, help me and to change my world when it is needed. I am blessed. I hope that you are. If you are not, open the door, walk outside and find someone to help.

Appalachian Sounds

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Randall Franks on the set of Appalachian Sounds

Appalachian Sounds

with Randall Franks

Appalachian Entertainer/Actor Randall Franks, “Officer Randy Goode” from TV’s “In the Heat of the Night,” performs with musical guests on his Americana music show “Appalachian Sounds“ featuring artists from country, bluegrass, gospel, folk and the Americana musical genres. Franks is the 2024 Josie Music Awards Musician of the Year – Fiddle and Inspirational Vocalist of the Year nominee.

“I am thankful for the opportunity to share these times with these talented musicians,” Franks said. “I see this as a wonderful opportunity to show the talents of the youth we have mentored through the years with our Share America Foundation. Our initial episodes are dedicated to that purpose.”

The International Bluegrass Hall of Fame Legend and the Grand Ole Opry guest star marks his 40th Anniversary since debuting for the show this October. He is an Independent Country Music, America’s Old Time Country Music, Atlanta Country Music and Tri-State Gospel Music halls of fame member with a long list of awards in multiple music genres. Through his Share America Foundation, he inspires youth to learn and share the music of Appalachia. Georgia honored him for his service and philanthropy to the people of Georgia for helping raise millions to assist those in need.

“Appalachian Sounds” airs from UCTV in Fort Oglethorpe, Ga. with special thanks to Judy O’Neal and the staff of UCTV.

Franks appears live once monthly with a special musical guest on the series sharing live songs and video performances spanning his career in music.

The episodes are then edited into one-song webisodes and released on Randall Franks TV on YouTube, Rumble, Brighteon, X , TikTok and various social media forums by Peach Picked Productions.

Radio may find his music at https://airplaydirect.com/music/RandallFranks/.

Randall Franks is a TikPik Brand Ambassador: Get Your Pik that Sticks! https://www.tikpik.com/?ref=randall_franks

Appalachian Sounds – Episode One:

Randall Franks welcomes vocalist, banjo player and guitarist Dawson Wright. Wright is a Share America Foundation Pearl and Floyd Franks Scholar who in addition to his own shows appears with Randall’s historic Hollywood Hillbilly Jamboree.

Appalachian Sounds – Episode Two:

Randall Franks welcomes finger-style guitarist Caleb Lewis. Lewis is a Share America Foundation Pearl and Floyd Franks Scholar who in addition to his own shows appears with Randall’s historic Hollywood Hillbilly Jamboree.

Appalachian Sounds – Episode Three:

Randall Franks welcomes Southern gospel pianist/percussionist Colton Brown. Brown is a Share America Foundation Pearl and Floyd Franks Scholar who is completing his degree in music education at the University of Tennessee in Chattanooga. In addition to playing piano in church and student teaching, he appears with Randall’s historic Hollywood Hillbilly Jamboree.

Appalachian Sounds – Episode Four:

Randall Franks welcomes vocalist and country piano stylist Ryan Stinson. Stinson performs in concerts around the South including for theaters in Pigeon Forge, Nashville, and elsewhere. Stinson was a 2012 Share America Foundation Pearl and Floyd Franks Scholar and appears with Randall’s historic Hollywood Hillbilly Jamboree

Appalachian Sounds – Episode Five:

Randall Franks welcomes singer and banjo stylist Landon Fitzpatrick and guitarist/vocalist Arron Ramey from the Landon Fitzpatrick Band. In addition to his own band, Fitzpatrick travelled with Ralph Stanley II and the Clinch Mountain Boys. Fitzpatrick was one of Share America Foundation’s Americana Youth of Southern Appalachia.

Appalachian Sounds – Episode Six:

Randall Franks welcomes guitarist, autoharpist and singer Logan Puryear who shares the stylings of the Carter Family. Puryear was a 2019 Share America Foundation Pearl and Floyd Franks Scholar.

 

Appalachian Sounds – Episode Seven:

Randall Franks welcomes banjo stylist, vocalist and guitarist Cody Harvey of Mountain Cove Bluegrass Band. Harvey was a 2011 Share America Foundation Pearl and Floyd Franks Scholar.