Nada Lewis–Balkan and Klezmer musician from Berkeley 

I was introduced to Balkan folk dancing through my friend Liz, at U. C. Riverside.  Before that I had been involved in Israeli folk dance and music, but when I heard Balkan music I switched.  I loved the Balkan music so much I bought every recording of it I could find.  It totally lit up my soul.  The minor modes resonated and moved me.  What can I say?  That was it!  The second time I went to Macedonia, I flew from San Francisco to Los Angeles, to New York to Geneva, down to Beograd to Macedonia. It took three days with very little sleep.  Coming down in a small plane over Macedonia, looking into the fields I just burst into tears.  I felt like I was coming home.

Nada Lewis gives a workshop at Sweet’s Mill in 1974. (photo by Tom Kumano)

The first year I was at Sweet’s Mill, there was no Balkan weekend, but my band was there sort of as a novelty act, and I did lead some workshops.  The first time Pitu Guli Balkan band came up from Los Angeles (1973), it was the second or third year I was there. There were four or five of them; they finished playing a very nice set and people had been dancing. Very few folks at the Mill knew anything about Balkan dancing or music at that time. When the musicians put their instruments down on a bench and went for some coffee.  People went up to check out their unusual instruments. The gajda (bagpipe) kind of squawked, and the other instruments made their noises.   That was the beginning, and the following summer (1974) we began workshops in Balkan music and dance.  I could tell many stories of the Balkan musicians and dancers who came to the Mill.

L.A. balkan band Pitu Guli in concert at Sweet’s Mill. (photo by Tom Kumano)

One of the unique things about Sweet’s Mill, and I think this would be shared by almost any musician who has been up there and played, was that at Sweet’s Mill, for the first time, I was so high playing music. There was such an energy vortex that I would play beyond the point of exhaustion. I would play until I worked myself into a state of beyond the beyond, almost into a psychic state of playing music. There was such an ecstasy about it; I would play literally until I couldn’t stand up. It was wonderful. That was the first place that had ever happened to me.

Sweet’s Mill was the first camp of its kind that I ever went to. It really opened me up, and I suddenly realized that something had been missing from my life.  I felt so privileged to be there and experience all that the Mill environment brings out.  I’ve thought of all the other people across America–the world, too, who have no concept of what was going on there.  Other music camps that take place are not the same.  It was very warm at Sweet’s Mill for one thing;  it made you slow down, which allows many things to be expressed, creative and personal.

Balkan dance workshop 1974 (photo by Tom Kumano)

The Mill seemed counter-culture. It felt very natural and incredibly special – just the whole way people related to each other and the sense of community. The other thing was the opportunity to give and share something, which would eventually blossom–like this Balkan music scene. There are so many Balkan bands now. A lot of the people in them began learning at Sweet’s Mill or at camps that evolved from it. And all the friends I’ve made: I feel like I have an extended family, a tribe. I see these folks–and their children and grandchildren now– year after year. I know what’s real and what’s valuable. Nobody has had a party like those who have attended these camps. Virgil Byxbe threw the best parties in the state. For me it was the gifted spontaneous people, the wonderful open feeling, the beautiful vibe of the land, and fantastic array of musicians of all kinds.