Leo Eilts

Leo's 50th Birthday

Autobiography of a Great American

Leo on the stealth bass at Courtland, KS

I was born and raised in a part of Western Kansas often reputed to be more or less Central Kansas. If you’ve been there, you begin to realize that it doesn’t really matter what you call it; you still pretty much have to do some serious driving to see the beautiful statute erected to me by the grateful citizens of my home town, Rush Center, KS. I’m looking forward to seeing that statute myself someday. Mom said it was in for cleaning on my last two visits. The city of Rush Center has yet to erect a statue in honor of my Older Brother, Roger.

I started playing guitar in my fourth year of high school, when I was a sophomore. I had heard that chicks dug it, and it had become obvious that my trumpet wasn’t a big hit on dates. Roger decided that he’d play the banjo, but they gave him the wrong instruction manual when he bought it and he couldn’t get it tuned right. So he traded in the banjo for a guitar; a pivotal point in his life, if you ask me.

By the time I graduated from High School, I had three songs under my belt and decided to hit the road as a folk musician. But first, I needed to go to college so I’d have something to complain about. I went to Wichita State. Most of my memories of this time are unclear. I remember something about a dog. That’s about it.

I spent the next several years stealing material from other musicians for my first solo album, “Songs I Stole from Other Musicians.” The album was recorded by a guy named Maxie on a cassette player, but he kept the tape because I couldn’t afford to pay him for the blank. I think he recorded a Frank Zappa album over it. Anyway, I at least had a few more songs under my belt, so I got in my Volkswagen Bus and headed out on the road to seek my fame and fortune, but I accidentally ended up in Cincinnati, instead. I stayed there for a while, but I got bored and went back to Wichita, only to discover that no one had noticed that I had left.

Leo on Stage 3

I first got interested in Bluegrass music at the Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, KS. I know for sure I was there in 1976. I still have the shirt, which was obviously purchased for a much smaller person. There are a few people who claim that I was there in 1975. You couldn’t prove it by me. About this time, I moved to Kansas City, where someone had mistakenly hired me as an Apparel Representative. My job consisted mostly of driving up and down the road attempting to peddle cute baby clothes to angry middle-aged women in little towns in northern Iowa who were never happy to see me. My Older Brother Roger had also moved to Kansas City and we had formed a band called the Total Strangers. Up until then, Roger and I both played guitar, but we needed a bass player, and my very best friend told me that Roger was a better guitar player than I was, so I should just play the bass and get over it. Some friend. In 1978, we went to Winfield and told everybody in the Pecan Grove that we had a bluegrass band and we played several Kenny Rogers songs to prove it. Back in those days, people in the Pecan Grove would believe almost anything, but that’s all changed now. Also, electric basses weren't generally accepted in the Pecan Grove. Well, that's not quite right: You could play electric bass if you wanted to, but nobody could hear them because there was no electricity out there. So, I had bought an upright bass that I saw advertised in the Kansas City Star and took that to Winfield to play. The problem was I didn't really know how to play it. I had little green stick-on dots on the neck where the notes were supposed to be, but they weren't much help. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Roger kept moving the dots, because that's the kind of person he is.

When the Total Strangers broke up in the summer of 1986, we discovered that we had become addicted to the adulation of literally tens of people, so we pathetically attached ourselves to the first guys we met who could actually play their instruments. That would be Scott and Marvin. We told them we were formerly famous bluegrass musicians. I’m not sure they believed us. We played together really well, but we were having a hard time coming up with a name. When we showed up to play in Winfield later that year, we were calling ourselves Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, but there were beginning to be some legal problems. Roz Brown said he had a name he'd been saving for years for a band, so we stole it. I don't think he wants it back. So far, we've been together long enough to gain about 120 pounds (collectively) and acquire four pairs of glasses.

Besides being a famous Bluegrass musician, I have a job where there's a computer and a telephone. We've also started a bluegrass festival of our own. I often tell people that everything I know about running a bluegrass festival, I learned from Bob Redford of the Walnut Valley Festival, but he says that if that were true, I'd never have started a festival in the first place. I'm beginning to see what he meant.

Bands, past and present: My People, Total Strangers, the Knights of the Blue Fesque, Haywire, the Casino Casualties, the Blarney Brothers, Tater Patch, A-too-fay, Lost Highway, and this Hawaiian band, Hula Girl.

Leo; Leo's mother, Betty Schwartzkopf; and Leo's older brother, Roger