LOCALadk Magazine

LOCALadk 19 that although those stories are valuable and should be preserved, thousands of people still live here today. Our contemporary stories are just as valid. The Adirondacks is a unique place and it takes a certain type of person to live here; those were the stories I wanted to hear. My hir- ing committee thought it was a wacky idea, but thank- fully they looked past it and hired me anyway. A decade later, when NPR began broadcasting "The Moth Radio Hour," it was a quick hit and even won some big awards. I remember feeling satisfaction knowing that I had been right all those years before — and let's face it, that's all that really matters at the end of the day. I kept trying to convince people that we should do a contemporary storytelling program. Then, NCPR brought The Moth to the North Country region, so I pitched the idea of a regional, contemporary storytelling program to them. Though they liked the idea, it again went no- where. A couple of years later the station manager heard me telling stories and she said to me, "I have to figure out a way to use you," to which I replied, "Well, we could finally do a storytelling program like I've been pushing for the last couple of years," and that was that. We scheduled the first few events, and it took off instantly. The first Howl Story Slam (then called "The Blackfly") was held in Saranac Lake at the newly opened Bitters and Bones in 2016, in the middle of winter. Many organi- zations don't do events in the winter, since people find it harder to travel. But in Saranac Lake, everyone relishes the opportunity to gather in winter, and Bitters was packed tight that night. It was standing-room only — so packed that one man told me afterwards that he was desperate to take his jacket off but he was so crammed in, he couldn't. We didn't think to have a stage set up, so the owners put a pallet on top of some milk crates to form a makeshift stage. I never get nervous on the mic, but that night I had a literal stage fright — my fear being that someone would fall off and hurt themselves. After that first slam, the program just grew and grew. We've always been intentional about bringing the event to communities all across the Adirondack region, even in the smallest towns, consistently visiting new venues year in and year out. I always insist the Howl open mics take place in bars in order to reach a broader audience, people who would not normally attend an arts event. That's always been ACW's mission, to go where the peo- ple are instead of expecting them to come to us. In this way we have built an enviably diverse audience and have heard stories from all aspects of our community. Over the years, many arts centers, museums, and historical societies have asked that we hold a Howl at their site, but I always refuse, ruffling feathers along the way. It's simply so important that the Howl remains an event for the people, by the people, and not just for people who already consider themselves artists. Seeing people who have never spoken in front of an audience before take the mic and tell their story is honestly one of the most satisfying things about my job. I just love that moment, more than seeing someone who already considers them- selves to be a performer. I've seen people develop their skills over the years and I'm so proud of the culture of storytelling that the Howl has built. Tickets are on sale now for the Season 8 Grand Slam happening Saturday, January 25th at 7 PM at Harri- etstown Town Hall. You're sure to hear some unfor- gettable stories, and you might just walk away with more curiosity, understanding, and camaraderie with people you've never met, people who live right here, right now, in the Adirondacks! t Left: Lori Phoebe Benton speaks from the heart at The Howl Grand Slam in Januar y 2023, ending the 2022 season. Right: The first ever slam at Bitters and Bones in Saranac Lake. Photo credit: Baylee Annis

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