Protecting a Family Legacy and an Americana Tradition
Some places don’t just host music, they grow it.
On a farm tucked into the mountains of Overton County, Tennessee, songs have risen with the morning fog for nearly two decades. They’ve drifted through open gallery doors, carried across campfires, and settled into the lives of families who returned year after year, long enough for children to grow up in that river valley and come back as the next generation of caretakers.
That’s where Jammin’ at Hippie Jack’s began. And where it’s being reborn, led by Hippie Jack’s youngest son, Silas, alongside a small staff and a dedicated team of longtime volunteers who have returned to bring the festival back to life. Together, they are reviving not just an event, but a tradition built by many hands and carried forward by a community that never forgot what this place means.
This is not just a festival coming back. It is a family legacy refusing to disappear.
The Spark
In the fall of 2006, Hippie Jack and his wife Lynne were hosting a small open house event at the art gallery on their farm. The gatherings were intimate — art, conversation, neighbors lingering a little longer than planned — and friends playing a little music in the background.
It wasn’t a production, nor was it strategy. It just felt right.
Becky Magura, who was serving as CEO of WCTE PBS at the time (and who is now CEO of NPT PBS), attended one of the open houses and asked if they would consider recording the performances for television. “Well, yeah, sure,” Hippie Jack said. “We can do that.”
In May of 2007, they expected 10 to 25 people. When the gates opened at 10 a.m., cars were already lined down Shiloh Road, parked along the shoulder, waiting to get in. That first weekend changed everything. The following spring, they began recording what would become a 13-episode season for local PBS affiliate WCTE. It quickly turned into a nationally syndicated program available to PBS affiliates around the country.
As Silas was graduating from college, “Jammin at Hippie Jack’s” was formally taking shape under the leadership of his older brother Jason and Jason’s wife, Beth. They stepped in to organize the early events, transforming a casual gathering into something that could be shared with the world.
They quickly realized they needed more recordings than they could capture in a single event. So, they added another gathering in the fall. From that point on, every spring and every fall, the city on the farm rose for thirteen straight years.
Purpose First
By 2010, the family formed the Council of Americana Roots, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit created to oversee and sustain the growing mission. Avery Hutchins, Hippie Jack’s daughter, currently serves on the board, continuing the family’s leadership and stewardship.
Americana music, as they describe it, is broad and layered; folk, bluegrass, roots rock, country, blues. Southern Appalachia has always held a rich musical heritage, shaped by Scottish ballads, African banjo rhythms, and mountain storytelling traditions.
From the beginning, the focus was on high-quality professional musicianship, singer-songwriters, and the preservation and presentation of Americana Roots Music. In the early years, The Steel Drivers performed with a young Chris Stapleton in the lineup, long before arenas and awards.
They didn’t just host performances. They recorded them, giving artists assets to help promote themselves. It was another way to invest in the craft.
But in 2010, something shifted.
Mark Benson, who would go on to serve on the nonprofit board, began collecting food donations as attendees packed up to leave. By the end of the weekend, they had filled a pickup truck. That moment revealed something deeper, an opportunity to give back to the community that had developed in this river valley.
When the coal mines closed decades ago, generational poverty settled into parts of the mountain community. Families stayed. Resources thinned. Hippie Jack realized the festival could help.
An old basketball court on the property became the site of the food pantry. James Stults, farm manager and long-time friend, built the structure himself. One side is taller than the other, but it’s square on the roof-line. The concrete for the basketball court had been poured downhill.
After it was finished, James asked Silas, “How in the world did y’all ever play basketball out here?”
Silas laughed. “You would shoot up-hill for an easy rebound.”
The humor fits the place. So does the grit.
“From the beginning,” Hippie Jack says, “people showed up. Volunteers stepped in. The community got involved.”
Silas calls it a testament to what the festival does for people.
Today, the festival serves as the largest fundraiser sustaining the organization, keeping food in the pantry, maintaining the mission, and carrying the work through the rest of the year.
A City on the Farm
When Jammin’ at Hippie Jacks is in full swing, Hippie says, “it feels like an entire city rises from the pasture.”
Tents stretch from one end of the farm to the other. Coffee brews over campfires. Guitars tune in the morning light. Two months before the event, you’d be surprised how many people are zooming around the property getting things ready.
There’s a man who rents the same campsite every year. He leaves his fire pit there between festivals, so he doesn’t have to haul it back and forth. “We now use that firepit as a guide to mark campsites,” Silas says, “It sits in the same spot year-round, waiting.”
Hippie Jack tries to explain the feeling.
“I can tell you over and over how amazing it is,” he says, “but I just can’t explain it.”
Lynne pointed out something else, how respectful everyone is. It takes only four people a day to clean up afterward because attendees pick up after themselves. They respect the land.
For thirteen years, families returned. Long enough for children to grow up there. Long enough for musicians to become family. And they are clear about one thing: if this had ever been about money, they made a terrible decision. That was never the point.
The Land and the Legacy
Silas says it often comes back to the land.
“This farm has been here with people working it for two hundred years. We’re just doing it a different way, and utilizing it in the least destructive way we can.”
“It’s the land supporting the people.”
Hippie Jack adds that the festival has never been destructive or disruptive to the surrounding community. Respect for neighbors, for property, and for traditions, have always been part of the culture.
“It’s a legacy beyond us,” Silas says, “It’s an Appalachian legacy. It’s an Overton County legacy!”
“Every now and then, we sit back and take a look at everything we’ve accomplished, what and where we are, and it feels almost unbelievable. I’d be delighted”, Hippie Jack says, “if our kids and grandkids continued this show.”
The Silence
By 2014, Silas and his wife were thinking about starting a family. Stability mattered, so he stepped away to pursue other work. Young volunteers, many just out of high school, stepped in.
The festival continued.
Until 2020.
The pandemic brought it to a halt.
In 2021, as they discussed bringing it back, Hippie Jack’s wife suffered a stroke. They rushed her first to Cookeville and then to Vanderbilt just in time. Months of rehabilitation followed. She had run everything. She was the glue. There was no thought of the festival after that. Until . . .
The Return
In 2024, Hippie Jack and longtime staff member Carter Muncy decided to try a one-day festival. They decided about a month before the event. Somehow, they pulled it off. Later that summer, Silas was up at his parents’ house fixing the spring water line that feeds the farm, standing there on the land that had carried so many memories, when something settled in. He realized how much that place meant to people for so long. He said to Carter, “I think we should bring the festival back fully.” Carter was 100 percent in. In 2025, they did.
Five hundred people showed up.
Local supporters, Steve and Cindy Cooper of Cooper’s Recycling, along with the local Budweiser distributor, helped cover band costs. Volunteers gave their time, and the labor of love had returned. They had worried no one would come. They did.
Looking Forward
This year brings both continuity and growth.
Paul Thorn, a phenomenal artist whom they first met while recording in Memphis for Folk Alliance International years ago, will headline. They’ve been trying to bring him to Sundown Stage ever since. Alongside him, a new generation of local musicians will join the cause. Cherokee Hope, The Garrett Boys, and Elijah Wyatt represent the homegrown talent now becoming a staple of Hippie Jack’s concerts; artists who grew up with this music and are helping carry it forward.
There will be arts and crafts vendors, food booths, wood-carving folk artists, jewelry makers, and expanded children’s activities. Brianna Kincaid, an arts teacher from Cookeville, will lead creative workshops for kids. Silas hopes to continue growing that part of the festival. Jammin’ at Hippie Jack’s Americana Roots Music Festival will be held this year on the farm May 21st – 24th 2026. For more information and passes visit, www.jamminathippiejacks.com.
Heather Call, owner of Outdoor Experience in Cookeville, was asked about sponsoring this year’s event. When Silas asked her, she didn’t hesitate. “Of course I want to sponsor. I just need to make sure I get tickets for my kids. I can’t even get them to come home for Christmas, but they wouldn’t miss Hippie Jack’s.”
Silas laughed. “I guess it’s more fun than Christmas.” Hippie Jack smiles and says, “Hopefully it’ll stay this way for a long time.” Silas believes it will. “There will always be somebody who steps up and keeps it alive.”
On this farm in Crawford, where the land has been worked for two hundred years, and the fog still lingers in the morning, the purpose remains steady: community, heart, music. It’s a place where the mountains still sing.
Written By Shannon Cantrell & Silas Stoddart
Cherokee Hope performing in The Sanctuary
“Hippie Jack” & The first truckload of food donations.
“Hippie Jack”, Silas and wife Erica
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