Previous Message

I've been trying for ages to get George Grove to write a book about his being in the Kingston Trio.....

So far ... no good !!!!!!!!!

Well, I've been using ChatGPT for over a year.

So, I uploaded what George wrote and asked ChatGPT to turn it into a book chapter. Below is what it wrote:


Chapter X: The Reunion That Sang Across Time
It wasn’t supposed to be a defining moment. Not officially. It wasn’t a grand tour, a new album drop, or even a formal anniversary celebration. It was, simply put, a PBS television special filmed at Six Flags Magic Mountain north of Los Angeles. But for me—and for many who lived through the folk music boom—it was nothing short of a holy pilgrimage. We called it the “Reunion Show,” and it aired to mark a rare convergence of musical giants, souls stitched together by melody and memory.
The 43rd anniversary of that evening stirs something deep in me—not nostalgia alone, but reverence. This wasn’t merely a television show. It was a sacred thread pulling together the past and present of the Kingston Trio and its extended folk family.
Gathering the Legends
The lineup was staggering. Alongside the then-current Kingston Trio—Bob Shane, Roger Gambill, and myself—stood folk luminaries and musical trailblazers: Dave Guard and John Stewart, original Trio members turned icons in their own right; Mary Travers, one-third of the transcendent Peter, Paul and Mary; Tommy Smothers, the ever-clever half of the Smothers Brothers; and the unmistakable Lindsay Buckingham, representing the next wave of acoustic brilliance.
Each name was a chapter in the book of American folk. Each voice, a thread in the tapestry of an era. And yet, what happened behind the scenes was perhaps more moving than anything that aired.
A Window into the Past
Before the cameras rolled, we gathered to rehearse during our run at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. I can still see it—Nick Reynolds' suite bathed in soft hotel light, warm with anticipation and the weight of history. Something instinctual pulled me to the window. Below, walking toward the hotel with the calm inevitability of a returning tide, was Dave Guard. I had never seen him in person before.
Moments later, he walked into the room. And for the first time in twenty-one years, Dave, Nick, and Bob stood in the same room again. Time folded in on itself. The years of separation, of musical evolutions and private paths, all seemed to vanish. I sat cross-legged on the floor at their feet—something I doubt I could do now without serious protest from my knees—and bore witness to something sacred.
They chose “Zombie Jamboree” as their first rehearsal song, an unlikely anthem for reunion, but somehow perfect. From the very first chord, it was as though they’d never parted. Voices blended instinctively, harmonies rose like smoke from a fire recently rekindled, and I knew I was watching more than just a band rehearse—I was watching hearts remember how to beat together.
Mary Travers: A Moment of Grace
The show itself was a whirlwind of lights, cables, stage cues, and spontaneous bursts of joy. But one memory stands above all others—one that has stayed close to my heart for decades.
Backstage, amidst the flurry of rehearsals and preparations, Mary Travers pulled me aside. Her voice was gentle, her gaze direct. “You belong here,” she told me. “I want you to know that. You, Bob, and Roger—you’ve got something new to offer. Something that matters.” She spoke with the calm assurance of someone who had stood before millions and sung truth. Her words weren’t merely kind; they were anointment.
Coming from Mary Travers, whose voice had cradled a generation through civil rights marches, heartbreaks, and hope, those words filled a reservoir in me that I didn’t know was dry. She gave me something more enduring than applause or chart positions—she gave me validation, encouragement, and welcome.
The Echo That Remains
The show aired. People watched. Some remembered, some discovered. But for those of us on stage and behind the curtain, it wasn’t just a broadcast—it was a benediction.
In retrospect, the Reunion Show was more than a nostalgic gathering. It was a testament to continuity in art and friendship, a reminder that the music we make echoes louder when it’s rooted in connection. Whether it was Dave Guard shaking off decades to harmonize with old bandmates, or Mary Travers seeing a future in a new lineup, every moment was laced with grace.
We didn’t know it then, but that night became part of our legacy. A legacy that doesn’t live in gold records or industry accolades, but in the way we made each other feel, the way we remembered who we were—and who we still could be.
________________________________________