Dave Carter will always have a special claim on Sisters.

The singer-songwriter who went from a songwriting contest winner at the Sisters Folk Festival in 1995 to a performer of national stature in subsequent years died Friday, July 19, at 49, of a heart attack after a morning run.

Dave Carter and the Sisters Folk Festival plunged into this meandering side-branch of the American musical mainstream at about the same time.

Dave had always played and studied music, but it wasn't until 1994, at the age of 42, that he had an epiphany that compelled him to dedicate himself to a career in folk music. One of his first steps was entering a little songwriting contest in a tiny one-day festival in Sisters, Oregon, in September 1995.

Ed Fitzjarrel, Jim Massey, Dick Sandvik and I screened the cassette submissions for that first contest. Most of the songs were pretty bad, some were pretty good, a few were really strong.

The songs submitted by a Dave Carter from Portland, Oregon, were unbelievable -- something of an altogether different order.

Dave's performance back then was short of stunning. He was very reserved, nervous as a cat and he didn't have a whole lot of stage presence. And on his first song, his guitar wasn't plugged in.

None of that mattered. The power of the songs was overwhelming and he won the contest and the $500 prize -- which he needed to pay for recording.

Over the next couple of years, he won every contest in sight, up to and including the Big One -- the Kerrville New Folk contest in Kerrville, Texas. Winning that one put him in the company of Lyle Lovett, Robert Earl Keen and Tom Russell. Of course, we'd figured all along that was the company he deserved.

As his stature grew, he opened up as a performer, dazzling audiences with the power of his songs, his understated yet superior musicianship and with the charm of his performance.

Each year Dave returned to the Sisters Folk Festival, each year adding to a loyal following that was touched to the very soul by his art. People came to the folk festival to see the likes of Ian Tyson, Guy Clark, John McEuen -- but they left saying -- "did you hear that guy Dave Carter?"

During that time, Dave and I became friends. I found him to be as profound as a man as he was as an artist --which isn't always the case. This man, I figured, deserved every reward this kind of music holds.

And the rewards started coming: critical acclaim, a dedicated following, an actual semi-decent-paying career.

Along with the rest of us Sisters folkies, I was elated to see the rest of the folk music world start to catch on to something we felt we had discovered.

Lightning struck when Dave partnered with Tracy Grammer. She added a vocal and musical element that put a final sheen on Dave's songs. As a duo, Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer found the perfect format to deliver the music.

By the time they came back to Sisters last year, Dave and Tracy had the biggest "buzz" of any artists in folk music.

When a power outage delayed the sold-out Saturday night performance at the folk festival, Dave was willing to cut his set short so that the crowd wouldn't have to wait for headliner Ian Tyson.

No way. The crowd was as much his as it was Tyson's and they proved it. When Dave told the audience that he and Tracy were going to wrap it up to bring on Ian Tyson, someone shouted, "But we want you!" A thunderous ovation drove the point home.

Dave and Tracy had arrived at the top. In folk music, you don't get there through slick marketing campaigns; you get there by touching hearts a handful at a time at small gigs where maybe five people show up and at festivals where the audience has never heard of you.

Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer touched thousands of hearts -- hearts that are broken today at the news of his death.

Dave and Tracy were taking this year off from the Sisters Folk Festival with the understanding that they would return in 2003 as headliners. It is heartbreaking to know that will not happen.

But in Sisters, and in towns and cities across America, Dave Carter's music will still be heard -- a kind of immortality granted to few.

Adios.