An ode to Folkmoot and to Rolf
I was in New Zealand when Rolf Kaufman passed away a couple of weeks ago. The Folkmoot international dance festival that Rolf and many others made a signature event for 30 years in Western North Carolina helped feed in me what was already an intense interest in foreign travel, always searching for the shared compassion and humanity that is often the bedrock of international connections.
In fact, we have some great family photos of my son, Liam, when he was around 7 or 8 years old — he’s 27 now — hanging out on the Haywood courthouse lawn with a young member of the Waiata dance group from New Zealand when that Màori heritage group came to Waynesville around 2005 to take part in Folkmoot.
A New Zealand connection to Folkmoot goes even deeper. Baili Francis, a Tuscola graduate who hung out with my girls when they were teens, now lives in New Zealand with her Kiwi boyfriend. Baili was a Folkmoot guide, and she has told me that being a part of the international festival helped spur her interested in foreign travel. So it is for legions of young people from this region, and Rolf Kaufman’s singular dedication to the festival (see story page 12) and exposing the youth of this region to the world beyond these mountains played a huge role in making that happen.
Just to be clear, I’ve been involved with Folkmoot since soon after I moved to the mountains in 1992, and I’m on the board of Folkmoot right now. Folkmoot has changed, and now our focus has switched to cultivating an arts center that has monthly entertainment in the auditorium. COVID, visa challenges and economic factors ended the international festival, but Folkmoot is thriving as it embraces a new mission.
But for nearly 30 years, starting in 1984, Folkmoot was an extraordinary cultural and international event for this region and especially for Haywood County. Events like it don’t last forever, and instead of bemoaning its loss I favor remembering it for its unique and astounding impact. We would bring 10 to 12 international dance groups and their musicians from all over the world, house all 200 to 300 of them in one location for two weeks, bus them to dozens of performances throughout the region, feed them four times a day (which included a late-nite meal after they got back from their evening performances that was served at around 10 p.m.), and finally make sure they could visit sites in our mountains while here. It took hundreds of volunteers and dozens of paid part-time guides, cooks, bus drivers, office personnel and others.
When I moved here, Ken Wilson, who was the publisher of The Mountaineer and hired me to be editor, was on the Folkmoot board and told me I’d fall in love with the festival. He was right, and in a few short years I was on the board and giving it my all to make sure we could pull it off each summer. As time went on people came on and off the board, but not not Rolf. He stayed, became the international ambassador, traveled the world looking for qualified groups who were true to the heritage of the region of the country they represented.
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Rolf’s importance to the international festival and its impact on a couple of generations of young people — and their parents — was immense. “Rolf was the epitome of leadership for many years as he guided the organization locally and represented Folkmoot internationally,” said Wilson when I reached out him about Kaufman’s legacy.
Rolf was self-effacing, but he believed mightily that promoting international interactions could create good will and educate the young people of this region. As a child he fled from the Nazis in Europe, so he knew what happens when people don’t show compassion toward those who may seem different. After his retirement from his own business, Folkmoot became his passion. He was a unique person who helped create and perpetuate this unique event.
I don’t usually use quotes found in books and on the internet, but a line from Dr. Seuss seems appropriate regarding both Rolf and his ties to this one-of-a-kind festival that lasted for more than 30 years in a small town in the Smoky Mountains: “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.”
(Scott McLeod can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
