NUVO reached some of the people who knew Beth best and asked them to share their memories of this great woman.

There is a big difference in my world and the world around me. I can remember 10 years ago I met Beth and heard her beautiful voice and powerful lyrics. It was like a powerful drug for the worst addict. Love at first Sound.

Her music, voice and lyrics were so healing and her passion for it all was so strong. No matter where I lived in the city, and how much time went by, I always found myself at home on a Sunday night at Chubby’s. Beth hosted the open stage there on Sundays and was the greatest hostess ever. I used to giggle when she would try to walk away from the music for a minute ... and she couldn’t stay away. Not only was she a great musician, but she loved to hear the great sounds of her friends as well.

Everyone was welcome at Beth’s open stage. It didn’t matter if it was a musician playing for the first time, a seasoned professional or some lost soul healing through the music. As the years went by, I began to know and love Beth as a person. Wow. What a bonus. She was one of the strongest women I am going to know in this lifetime. A mother of five, a goddess, a wife, a warrior, a survivor, a Healer, a Hero and a Friend.

As I watched through the years, she faced all of her life challenges with her head held high and her chest out, never forgetting her dreams. Never. Turning it all into song. She had played tons of venues, benefits, festivals and clubs through the years, and she touched somebody’s life ... every time. She has loved us all ... right back. You will be missed, my Sister, for the rest of this lifetime.

—Dee Winter

Just a note in remembrance of my very dear friend Beth Powell. Beth and I shared a deep, dear, loving friendship. She was a great woman and left a tremendous legacy in Indianapolis in the world of acoustic/original music. Her award-winning open stage, beautiful voice, caring ways and diverse talents will be greatly missed and long-remembered. I thank God for the opportunity to have known her and shared many wonderful times together. These memories will serve as a wellspring of joy and inspiration to me in future days.

Good-bye, My Friend, I loved you.

—Rev. Charlie F. Edmonds,
The Preaching Bluesman

Her voice could silence a multitude, grabbing your soul by the roots to never let go. She cast magick circles with her songs, bonding herself with her audience instantly and irrevocably. She was the kind of friend who latches right onto your heart and becomes an integral part of you. Hers was a fierce passion with a temper to match. When it came to the people and things she loved, from her family and friends, to tuning guitars between songs (“We tune, we tune, because we care,” was a frequent on-stage mantra), she could be fanatical. Defender of the wronged and “finder of lost butts,” to quote her husband, she was a legend among us; our own Billie Holliday, Patsy Cline and Janis Joplin; our own Goddess and Muse. She touched so many hearts and lives in countless ways and unfathomable depths — how blessed we are to have known her, our daughter, sister, lover, wife, mother and friend, Beth Stolz Powell.
—Melissa Talbott

To Beth, a shot of Crown Royal and a Bud chaser. Her love of music and her beautiful girls were immeasurable. Open stage in heaven!

—Pete Elsbergs

I remember the first time I saw Beth. She came into Chubby’s, carrying a guitar and hiding under her long dark hair. She forced herself through a 20 minute set. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone more nervous.

I watched her blossom into a wonderful singer-songwriter and performer. More importantly, I saw her go from a new friend to an old one.

I’ll miss her voice. But I’ll miss her hugs and her smiles and her laughs even more.

—Bryan Hodge

The second week I came to the open stage at Chubby’s in 1999, I was very nervous. When I was in a folk group in high school I was the one who wasn’t allowed to sing — and for good reason. I was always either flat or sharp. So when I saw Rev. Charlie Edmonds walk in the bar, I thought to myself, here’s an out. Beth and Charlie looked over the schedule for several minutes to find a spot for him. He had come in late. I approached them at the bar and said I’d be glad to sit out since I was sure everyone would rather hear Charlie than me. Beth looked me straight in the eye and said, “Oh, he’s gonna play and so are you.” It was at that moment I understood what Beth thought an open stage should be. And I thank her every day for that understanding.

—Bill Corder

At home, Beth Powell was known as “the finder of all lost butts,” a title bestowed by her husband, Steve. From lost dollies, combs and library books to the only possible matching sock, she had the uncanny ability to locate any item missing in the chaos of five kids, a husband, a dog, cat and kittens and a large extended family.

One of the brightest blessings in my life was to be adopted into that extended family. I came late to bars and drinking, when my life blew up in my face and all I wanted was numbness. I stopped one Sunday for Beth’s open stage on a whim, because we have the same name. I love acoustic music, and suddenly I’m surrounded by John Prine songs, and Harry Chapin songs, and Steve Earle songs, and original songs I’d never heard before. Beth was a consummate hostess; she welcomed listeners as well as musicians. She introduced herself and talked to me — we styled ourselves “the international society of Beths.”

I had been befriended by Beth Powell, and that is a powerful thing. My life has blossomed in better directions ever since.

Being a member of the extended family meant you could drop in for coffee, a meal, a shower or an overnight stay without even calling first. She wore her heart on her sleeve and you always knew exactly where you stood with her. If you were fucking up, she would tell you, immediately, loudly and at length. If you had a problem, she didn’t pat your head, she instructed you in how to take the bull by the horns. She didn’t whine and wouldn’t tolerate it very much in others. She could organize a benefit for a friend’s funeral, operation or legal fees in mere hours, armed with only a phone and a yellow legal pad.

Every Thanksgiving, Beth and her daughters would cook a gigantic feast and invite friends and neighbors, family and every person she knew that had no other place to go. I used to call it her Stray Dog Dinner and she’d laugh that huge cackle of a laugh and say, “If you know of anyone, bring them along.”

She wasn’t just a finder of lost butts but a finder of lost souls. And the International Society of Beths still meets every Sunday night at Chubby’s Club LaSalle. Bring your friends and neighbors ... and be sure to play something you wrote.

—Beth Manning

Beth Powell was my friend and one of my large musical mentors. She showed me how to run shows well and I always sounded better when she sang harmony with me.

—Dan Welling

Beth Powell glowed with the Magick of music. It exuded from every molecule of her being. It flowed out of her and embraced everyone she came in contact with. She was, and still is, a truth that cannot be denied. I will miss her dearly.

—Randy Joe Duke

This is a story of how you can love someone to whom you’ve never been properly introduced.
When I first saw Beth, she was at the Monday Night Blues Jam at Chubby’s about eight or nine years ago. She wasn’t singing or playing, she was waiting tables and serving customers. I, at the time, didn’t know her or what she was about. A year or so later at the Wednesday night jam at the Slippery Noodle, a mighty storm blew through downtown and everyone was herded to the basement. At storm’s end, everyone came to the music room and Beth was on stage singing “Stormy Monday” a cappella.

From that point on, I realized there was more to Beth, and in the following years Beth and I became acquainted, became bandmates and became close friends.

I know I will never know the whole story of Beth. It took me years to figure out Beth was a wonderful musician, singer, mother and friend. I know I love her and I will miss her, even though we were never properly introduced.

—Rich Hynes

Beth was an inspiration to aspiring artists with all her prodding and encouragement. I’ve seen several scared and nervous first-time players get nothing but words of praise as they timidly shared their gifts of music. Beth loved all music and anybody who came up on stage to share it. Beth was a good friend off the stage, also. She was genuinely interested in our real lives.

Beth will be sorely missed in the music community but also by all of us who knew her.

—Mark Proctor

I’m Jill Wiseman, Beth Powell’s cousin. I lived in Indianapolis until about three years ago when I moved to Ormond Beach, Fla., with my mother (Beth’s Aunt Judy) and my two daughters, Rebecca and Christina. I am terribly saddened by the death of my cousin.

Beth and her sister Amy Isbill are the closest people I have to sisters. Beth and I were close, especially in our youth. Beth and her former husband Bob Stolz (whom I introduced to each other) were honor attendants at my March 1988 wedding to my first husband. (I believe that’s the night Allison was conceived!) I wish I could have been there for her services, but health problems have made it impossible to travel. When we found out Beth would be buried beside her mother Sylvia Ling Bunnell, my mother just collapsed. Sylvia passed away in January 1964, so Beth had very little memory of her. However, our grandmother, Elsie Ling Bayless, and my mother tried the best they could to keep Beth’s mother’s memory alive. I in turn will do all I can to keep Beth’s memory alive, especially in the hearts of her daughters, my cousins!

I remember when Beth started her open stage at Chubby’s. She was so excited! I was about six months pregnant with my first child, who is now 9 and a half, when I went to see her perform at Chubby’s for the first time, and Beth performed a “guitar blessing” for my unborn child. It was typical Beth. She expressed herself the best through her music. Also, right before my mother and I moved to Florida, we went to Chubby’s on several occasions to see her perform because we knew it could be a while before we saw her again.

Who knew? I just can’t believe she’s gone. Sure, she’d been sick, but I thought she was getting better. I’m still in shock. My heart breaks for Steve and her girls: Jessica, Sarah, Allison and Lita. I know Bob will do a good job with his three; I spoke with him last night. I know there is now a huge void in the Indianapolis music community, but there is an even bigger void in a family that spans several states, including Florida, Alabama, Georgia and Kentucky. I’ll never be the same again. A part of me is gone. Not just a biological link, but a spiritual one, too. Beth and I were kindred spirits who understood and loved each other despite our differences in opinions and directions in life.

I know Beth wouldn’t want anyone to cry for her, but who can help it! Beth gave so much pleasure to so many people through her music and her undying friendship and loyalty.

—Jill Wiseman

The family of Beth Powell extends thanks to all who shared our grief with songs, poems, prayers, pictures, art, cards, food and all of the beautiful flowers. So many helped with gifts of their love and time, for which we are grateful.

Special thanks to the IPD investigation team for their help, care, sensitivity and professionalism. To Rev. Charlie Edmonds for his enduring and continual spiritual support. To Lloyd Sanford for his help and advice.

To Chubby Wadsworth and Janelle Addis, who helped in uncountable ways while coping with their own grief.

To the extended family, including Terry and Donna Turner, Bryan and Karen Hodge, the Direwolf tribe and all those who shared memories and music at the wakes, as well as anyone we may have left out.

Many thanks to all.

—Stephen Powell and family

A trust fund has been established for the five children of Beth Stolz Powell. Memorial contributions may be sent to National City Bank c/o “Beth Ann Stolz Powell’s Kids,” 4355 E. 10th St., Indianapolis, IN 46201.

A benefit concert in honor of Beth has been organized for noon on July 30 at Chubby’s Club LaSalle, 3219 E. Michigan St. Area musicians will gather to play her songs, tell stories and further honor the memory of this great musician.

shammer@nuvo.net