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Drew Fristoe of Coldwell Banker Elite serves food to residents and visitors at the
Bill Wharton of Planet Gumbo plays washboard during a performance at the Thurman Brisben Center.
Planet Gumbo drummer Justin Hadley (left) and guitarist |
Chicken. Shrimp. Okra. Peppers. Hot sauce.
Bill Wharton tosses them into a pot, then stirs up camaraderie, hope and peace of mind.
Self-nicknamed the "Sauce Boss," Wharton travels the country making gumbo and performing the blues at homeless shelters.
"We play for people who really need a good show and a good bowl of gumbo," he said.
On Thursday night, Wharton and his band, Planet Gumbo, played for a crowd of nearly 40 at the Thurman Brisben Center in Fredericksburg. Dressed in a white chef's coat and hat, and switching between guitar and ladle, he stirred up some toe-tapping tunes and gumbo and sprinkled in a few jokes.
"If nothing else, it gives them two hours when they have not thought about the rent money or 'How am I going to get food, medicine or a job?'" Wharton said.
He has mixed music and cooking for nearly 20 years.
At first, it was a gimmick to sell more bottles of of his secret sauce, Liquid Summer. He started making gumbo onstage while singing the blues. After the show, he served the gumbo to the audience.
Wharton says the combination makes for a good show, and he has served gumbo at his concerts ever since.
In 2002, Wharton played for a homeless shelter in Florida. That spurred Planet Gumbo, a spicy, jazzy outreach to the homeless. Now Wharton serves food once a month in Tallahassee and travels to shelters, offering gumbo and the blues.
After his stop at the Brisben Center in the Fredericksburg Battlefield Industrial Park, he headed to a shelter in Northern Virginia and a show in Washington. Wharton plays regular ven-ues, and uses those gigs to raise money for his travels to homeless shelters.
At each show, he puts a large silver-colored stockpot next to the gumbo. Audiences donate money as they get their food. So far, they've given more than $50,000, Wharton said. That money pays his travel costs, buys gumbo supplies and gives donations to homeless shelters.
It's money well spent, said Mike Kearney, a truck driver who came to the Brisben Center after losing his job recently. The gumbo and the music were both excellent, he said, as he added a liberal amount of Liquid Summer to his dinner.
Typically, nights at the shelter are quiet. Kearney and some other residents might play chess, read or watch some TV.
The music, Wharton said, gives them a chance to socialize. It allows the staff and residents to mingle on an equal footing, and gives residents a chance to do something fun.
That opportunity is important, said Bunny Melzer, the center's director.
"Our clients really have to hit the ground running when they get here," she said of the approximately 80 people who can stay at the shelter for three months to get back on their feet. "It's like, right away, 'Get a job, do this, do this.'"
So a chance to unwind means a lot.
Many different people came up to talk to Wharton afterward, to ask about gumbo, to thank him, to tell their stories. The shelter houses a variety of people, laid-off bankers and truck drivers, high school dropouts and college grads, families and singles.
"It's like gumbo, if you look at it, is many, many different things, just like the people in this room," Wharton said. "They all exist harmoniously, and it's good."
planetgumbo.org brisbencenter.orgAmy Flowers Umble: 540/735-1973
Email: aumble@freelancestar.com
