Milan Opacich, a master in the tamburitza music tradition in America, was born in 1928, in Gary, Indiana. In addition to being a teacher, historian and writer, Milan Opacich is a true artist both as a musical performer and a builder of fine tamburitza instruments. Recently, in September 2004, the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) in the United States honoured Milan Opacich by awarding him a National Heritage Fellowship.

First, let's talk a little about the award. Please explain for our Canadian readers, what is a National Heritage Fellowship?

 National Heritage awards were started in 1982, and they are given to folks that excel in what they do: singers, dancers, violinists, accordion players, button box players. I was particularly thrilled to get it because one of the first recipients of the award was Adam Popovich, of the Popovich Brothers Orchestra - lifelong friends and I would call them my mentors too. Getting this award was doubly exciting for me, because knowing that Adam had it in 1982 and here I come, what, 22 years later and I get the same award.

 Did you have any idea that you were being considered by the NEA or how you came to their attention?

 Well, yes I did, because the Indiana Traditional Arts folks in Bloomington submitted my name. They came here and did a video - not once - two or three times and they collected all the information I had. My shop is not only a shop for making instruments, but it's actually a museum too, so I had a lot of things here pertaining to what I have done in the last fifty-five years. They submitted my name. First they threw my name in a hopper for a grant to teach some youngster how to build a tamburitza.

 That sounds good!

 It was good! It was a fifteen year old lad and, it sort of renewed my faith in young people. You know, young people get so many bad raps. This kid was polite. He wanted to learn, and he made himself a tamburitza cello. And, unbeknown to the Traditional Arts people, I videoed the whole thing from the first day he stepped in the shop, and every procedure that he did and, in the end, when he put on the strings and played the first notes. That scene there was worth a million dollars, because the look on that kid's face was something I'll never forget! Then they gave me a second one! And he made his kid brother a bugaria but in the process he got his driver's license and I think he discovered girls! - so it took him a whole year to finish that instrument... But, then they told me that they had thrown my name in the hopper (for the NEA) and I said, ah, I really don't have much faith that that will ever happen. I said, I heard it's very 'political'. Well, they said, "Don't worry, we know just how to go about this" and this one young gal who was the head honcho there at Bloomington, at the Traditional Arts, she did this magnificent job and she even showed up at Washington when I got the award with her four month old baby!? She got married. They moved to Baltimore, and they had this child, and she showed up at the awards - I was overwhelmed!

 That sounds like it was a wonderful experience.
Can I tell you a few more things?

 Well, when I got the call, I was working here in my shop and this man, whose name escapes me right now, called up and he says, "Are you familiar with the National Endowment?" I said, "Yeah, sure I am." He said, "Well, I want to congratulate you. You are one of the twelve recipients this year." And, I got weak in the knees, and oh, I could feel myself getting very emotional. After he hung up I went into the house and by now tears were streaming down my face and I approached my wife in the kitchen, and she knew it couldn't be too serious because I also had a smile on my face, so she said, "what happened?" I said, "I just got this call, I'm going to be one of the recipients of the National Heritage Award this year" - and then she started to bawl. They covered all of our expenses going there. They paid for the airfare, the hotel, the food. They brought my orchestra - "Drina" - in for the occasion and they took care of all their expenses. Let's go to the beginning. What was your first experience with tambura. What was your influence, because I had heard that you were influenced at a very early age? According to my mom there was nobody in the family except for one of her brothers that played tambura. Well, I really didn't like it that well, at first. Coming from a Croatian mother and a Serbian father, before all this craziness happened over there, my folks would go one week to the Serbian hall and, maybe, next week to the Croatian hall and I would hear these orchestras and I wasn't that enamored by them. It sparked some curiosity in me, I'm sure. As a kid, you know that story of my dad making an instrument out of plywood for me?

 The plywood and the rubber bands?

 Yes, it was the Depression. I must have been four or five, and I watched him do this with a hack saw and I couldn't get over it, and I still maintain that somewhere in the back of this brain, this might have been what sparked this thing about building instruments. As a thirteen year old I started taking guitar lessons. I was always infatuated with the guitar, still am today. I took fifty-five lessons and did rather poorly because I was learning to play what they call the "Hawaiian guitar". The only good thing about it was that after the fifty-five lessons were over, I got to keep the guitar. Then years later we moved to a different area. We left the Serbian area that we lived in and moved up to, I would call it an Anglo neighborhood - because it was right about the time that Alexander was assassinated, so we could no longer go to the Croatian hall with my Serbian father or to the Serbian hall with my Croatian mother - so we moved to an area of Gary called Glen Park. A fellow moved in next door to us. He was part redneck and part Italian and he played the guitar on his front porch. I would stand there and listen and one time I got the nerve and I walk on to the porch and said, "you know, I've got a guitar". He said, "Well, bring it over. I'll teach you how to play". And he got me hooked on Country and Western. While in high school I played with a Country and Western group called the Possum Hollow Ramblers and I really thought that was the way to go. Then WWII ended and all the veterans were coming home and the fellows at the Serbian hall wanted to start a tamburitza group, but they didn't have anyone to play rhythm.

 So that is what drew you back to the traditional tamburitza?

 Yes, they exposed me to the tamburitzas. Of course, the one I fell in love with was the prima, but that wasn't the one I was going to play, so that lasted for a while and eventually their group folded up for untold reasons.

 What was the name of that group?

 They didn't even have a name. They just got together and played. But, by then I was pretty well hooked by it and so I started my own group. I bought a mail-order prima for seventy-five dollars and I had an Irish kid playing guitar. I taught him the language, which wasn't hard, because when I started kindergarten in the Gary school system I couldn't speak English. They talked our language at home, but I picked it up fast enough. We had another fellow playing the bass. We started off with a trio and then a fellow that was in that army group that came back, he joined our group playing the bass violin and eventually became my brother-in-law. We married sisters.

 What was it that made you start actually building instruments? When did you start that?

 I started the first year that I was married. It's coming up to fifty-five years now in October and I really give my wife a lot of credit for putting up with me. She stood behind me and encouraged me and even bought me a lot of books pertaining to instruments. There wasn't so much to teach you how to build - but they explained instruments and how they were made. I finally got to really express my sincere feelings to her when they had the dinner in Washington at the Library of Congress. It was a lovely affair when we were there. My daughter was there, my sister-in-law was there, and my wife says, "You know, I think they are going to call on you to speak," and I said-nah, they're not going to call us up there. Well, they started calling off the names and, my goodness, I was caught off by surprise! I hadn't planned anything. They called my name and I took this very large linen napkin and I walked to the podium and as I got on the mike system I held up this huge piece of cloth and I said, "You may have noticed I brought my crying towel with me because I've been known to get very emotional and start weeping". I got a big laugh out of the audience. Then I paid homage to my mom and dad and I said, "Thank God that they both came to this country, where I was born and had a very good life. My dad was living in Gary. Someone that knew my mom and knew that she was living in Canada introduced them by letter and he went up there and they met and took a liking. I think they got married in either Wayburn or Saskatchewan.

 So there is a Canadian connection?

 Oh yeah. In fact, Art Stoyshin got me a picture of the church that they were married in, which I was thrilled to get. My mom was widowed after WWI. Her husband came home and got caught up in the flu epidemic. They were from Lika and they even came into the room (she was pregnant) and said, "she will never make it till morning" - well she fooled them, and that's how I wound up with a brother: half-brothers, the same mother but closer than two coats of paint. My brother was my mentor for learning all my skills. He was a great influence on my life and made me walk the line because he was a tough fellow. He eventually opened up a machine shop of his own and he was rather disappointed that I didn't go into that with him. He got me into tool and die building at the plant we worked in, but I never saw the end product and it wasn't fulfilling to me, but by now I had the skills and I made my first instrument in that factory.

 So the skills you acquired through tool and die making helped you with instrument building?

 Oh, immensely. If it wasn't for that, I don't think I could have ever got into it. At any rate, I'm looking at the first instrument that I ever made and it was in that plant. I saw one made out of a turtle shell and I became desperate to make one of those. My brother was a hunter. We went out into the swamp and he shot the turtle. We both dived in to get the turtle and brought the turtle home. My wife wouldn't cook it. My sister-in-law wouldn't cook it. So dear mom, who wanted to keep peace in the family, she cooked it. After it was in the pot for three hours I lifted the lid and there were these legs still thrashing around and I said, I don't think I'm going to like this meal.

 Did anybody eat it?

 My brother and my nephew! Now, I have to say that the soup was excellent, but I didn't care for the meat. Well that was my number one instrument. Then I made my second one while still working in that plant. Then a recession occurred here in '58 and from working as a top tool and die maker, the boss's son and myself both were handed brooms. We became the sweepers. Of course, the old fellows heehawed us, there was a lot of razzing. One day my brother came up to the two of us and said, "Oh, you guys don't like this job anymore? You want to get out of here?" I said that I'd give anything to get out of here. So, he said to Bob, "Bob, would you like to be a policeman" and he said, "certainly!" And he said to me, "Would you like to be a fireman?" I said, "Just get me out of this place!" So, that night we went to see the Serbian mayor. The mayor at that time was a Serbian fellow - same background as I. His name was Pete Mandich and we walked into his office and he said to my brother, what can I do for you Bozo. My brother says, "my kid brother wants to be a fireman and Bob, here, wants to be a cop." And he says, O.K. so he's a cop and your brother's a fireman, what are we going to talk about now? It was, kind of remarkable, because, you know, people were buying those jobs! Bob became a policeman and I became a fireman. Even at the fire station I was able to have a little shop in the basement, where on off time, when we weren't fighting fires, I would dabble with my instruments. I worked in a ghetto. It was a very busy station, so I was there about eighteen years. I was thirty when I started as a fireman and I retired at fifty from the fire department, but I don't think I will ever retire, until the day comes when I'm no longer here, because right now on my bench I've got fifteen new instruments that I'm building. Plus, now that I've received all this notoriety I am now teaching a class of eight students who work in one of the steel mills in the area and the steel mill is paying for their learning how to build the instruments.

 When you started making instruments it wasn't easy getting information on how to do that?

 No, there were only two fellows in Chicago and they were very secretive and ironically when the one old-timer went to retire, who did he call to purchase his machines and that? He called me. He was a very hard-nosed individual. His son was the other maker and they were deadly enemies, father and son - deadly enemies. I used to dread talking to the old man, because, eventually he would start talking about the son and I didn't like to see dissention in the family.

 Did he share any of his secrets, ever, with you?

 No, he never told me a thing. And that's why I teach now. I vowed that if I ever got to where I knew what I was doing I was going to share this. Up to date I have probably had a couple hundred students. After I got off the fire department I taught at Perdue University in a Continuing Ed course. That went on for five semesters. Some of those folks are still building guitars and they still come here to buy materials and they are like family. And it looks like this bunch here that's coming through now - and the hiring agent told me there's forty more in line that want to come through this shop and learn this - I told him, I'm going to have to adopt all these people!

 Tell me about the instruments you make. I understand that they have been exhibited in galleries and so they are as beautiful to look at as they are to listen to.

 All right. I'll have to include the one that I made at the celebration of America's Bicentennial. I was invited as an instrument maker to perform in a tent there. They had a fully equipped shop there for me. My wife had her own tent where she cooked Slavic food, so I wasn't going to be hungry - I knew that! I made this instrument there, and lo and behold, two or three years later that instrument was put in the Smithsonian in what they call the Remwick Building in Washington, and it was there for four years, and it traveled all over the country. These instruments that I make, in the tamburitza field, there's six or seven different kind. There's the prima, there's the brac, there's the tamburitza cello, the tamburitza bugaria, and three different kinds of bracs, and, of course, the berda - the fretted bass, and I've made all these here in the shop. I took a count about two years ago, and I know it's a lot more, but all I could do was find receipts for about fifteen hundred of them. Now, that's a lot of instruments for a guy that had two other jobs. Of course, the numbers keep growing now because I'm still building. Tamburitza now is being revived. It was lost there for a time?I started our church group back in the sixties and it went up to 1971. My daughter got out of high school about that time and there was a loss of tamburitza in all the churches around here. Now, about a year ago from the five Serbian churches in the area I recruited kids. I couldn't get enough out of one church and so I went to five different churches and now there is a tamburitza group and they just had their debut. They played at St. Michael's Church in Lansing for the annual barn dance - can you believe that?! (laugh) They went over real big, too! Now, Jolliet, Illinois has started a group and Indianapolis now has started a group! Looks like there is a resurgence of tamburitza now - for a while there I thought it was going to die on the vine.

 Here in Windsor, at the church school there were teachers and parents my age and maybe a decade or so younger who remembered playing tambura and being part of a tamburitza group when they were children and then for years there was nothing. Just recently as you know we started "Mlada Srbadija" and it's wonderful for the children, to see them grow and feel a sense of accomplishment while perpetuating Serbian culture...

 Can I tell you that I think that Windsor was the impetus that made these other groups start around here. You know that set of instruments came from my church. I ordered them in the sixties and at one time we had a group that consisted of seventy-five kids! It was a very large group and they played very well, but like all things, after those graduated, some of the younger ones didn't follow up into it and the teacher got a little disgusted, and - we lost it.

 Was it you that had repaired the bass for our church school?

 Yes.

 I understand that you occasionally do repair instruments. What is the most interesting experience that you have had in that regard?

 Well, I've done a lot of work for a lot of outstanding people. I'm going to mention names, I hope you know who they are: Chet Atkins? I worked on some instruments for him. I worked for the late Roy Acuff, from Nashville. He was considered the "King of Country". He became a "Dutch Uncle" to my wife and I. It was after my brother died that it was a really low period in my life, so my wife made these plans to go to Nashville and we were going to go to the Grand Ole Opry and just before we went into the Opry, I went into this museum - it was called the Roy Acuff museum. Lo and behold, what do I find in there along with all these other great instruments - I find tamburitzas! I even found guslas in there! Well, when I came home I was on a kind of a high and I penned a letter to Mister Acuff - and I never told anyone that I was doing this. I said: I really had a great time. I listened to you for years on WSN from Nashville and I finally got to hear you in person and I was thrilled with your museum because there are instruments in there like the ones I make. One morning I get this phone call and the guy says: "Milani Opacici?" I almost fell apart. (laugh) I said, "who is this - the voice sounds familiar"?Right away he pipes in, "is that Yugoslavian?" (laugh) Well, he says, I got your beautiful letter. He and I were the only ones who knew about the letter. Then he asked me, "Would you be willing to do some work for my museum?" and I said, "Gladly". I did the repair work for him and called him up and told him they were done. He said, "How do you want to send those?" and I said, "I thought I'd deliver them in person so I could get to meet you." He said, "No problem there". That was our first meeting. We met him in his dressing room and in the interim I made him a prima, as a gift, and put his name on it, Roy Acuff. That started a whole chain of events. My God, every summer my wife and I would go down to the Opry. Half the time we'd be back stage meeting with all the entertainers and the other half we'd be sitting in specified seats. The first trip that I took there, he had my wife and I and our neighbors sit in a place where Nixon sat when they dedicated the auditorium. There was a big plaque there! I had said, "I can't believe this!" (laugh) I couldn't believe all these things were happening to me. Never made a great deal of money, but boy, friends and some wonderful acquaintances, that sure happened!

 You couldn't do much better than that?

 I used to have so many friends come here but the numbers are dwindling. Every week I used to have two or three of the Popovich brothers visit me. They were always an inspiration and while I was in Washington, my wife and I went into Arlington and found Eli Popovich's grave. He was a very decorated CIA man. I felt I had to go to graveside and say a little prayer and thank him and his brothers for what they did for me. That was fulfilling. I started to tell you about that dinner at the Library of Congress. They had so many knives and forks and spoons on the table, I didn't know where to start. But when I gave my little speech I think I told you, I thanked my mom and dad for coming here, I thanked my brother, my late brother for all the skills that he taught me and, of course, I couldn't leave out my wife who has put up with all this nonsense for all these years. I said she took a lump of coal and made a diamond out of it. She did like that. My daughter was there. She's a pretty tough kid, but during the awards she was sobbing uncontrollably. I didn't see it or I probably would have broke, myself.

 I understand that you also write. What kinds of things do you write about?

 Well, for twenty years I've been writing for Serb World magazine about tamburitza, of course. Although I have gone into classic guitars, because we now have a lot of fellows in our national groups that play classic guitars. Then I went into the ancient folk instruments from the country. This is all going to be coming out in a book, I would say within the next six months. Serb World is putting it together for me. I think there are three hundred and fifty pages. The story of the Windsor group is going to be in my book! At the close of this interview I would like to express what a pleasure it was to speak with Milan Opacich. I found him to be very down to earth, genuine, and very generous of spirit. Congratulations Milan, not only on this award and your upcoming book, but on a lifetime of great works, good friendships and true respect and fondness of your fellow man.

 

Milica Yaksich