|
|
Dalton
Roberts |
|
|
|
Would
you be happier about performing on the Grand Ole Opry or seeing an early
music hero crawl out of a swamp and remain sober? Would you be more
thrilled to write a network theme song or to see another music hero show
his greatness years after he had cased up his old guitar? These
were decisions I had to make when a reader urged me to tell some of my
favorite experiences as a musician. So many wonderful scenes spilled out
of my memory movies. Uncle
Van Roberts was my first performing hero. He taught me those first
chords when I was thirteen. When I got good enough to jam with him I
“arrived” in a way that no future experience would quite match. I am
not saying it was better but it was a fulfillment unlike any other. I
remember hearing the Columbia studio playback of Charlie Louvin singing
my song, “I’d Be Glad to Help You Out.” What songwriter can ever
forget hearing the first playback of a star singing one of his songs? Then
one day in 1972 when Highway Superintendent Max Dietz and I were
checking out a road problem in Ooltewah, for the first time I heard Nat
Stuckey on the car radio singing “Don’t Pay the Ransom.” It became
my first hit song. Nashville
publishers posted a notice that NBC was hunting a theme song for a pilot
of a Saturday night country show. I wrote five “possibles” on a
drive home from Nashville and one of them was selected! Then
there was my appearance on the Grand Ole Opry. Walking out on that stage
where the greats have stood is a numbing and thrilling experience. I
didn’t get the bug to go back but the bug of being there bit me hard. One
night I met Johnny Paycheck backstage at Memorial Auditorium and he went
home with me. I will forever remember how he sat on my couch playing for
my neighbors until 6:00 the next morning. Another
night Dr. Bill Findley brought one of the Ink Spots to the club where I
was playing. I believe it was Sonny Hatchett. I had a date that night
but instead of making it, I sat at a table guitar-pulling with him until
almost daylight. Coming
through Knoxville one afternoon I saw a hand-painted sign outside Rock
Inn, “Charlie Rich Tonight, Two Big Shows.” I stopped and bought
tickets and sat four feet from his elbow until the last note. Birchwood’s
Redbird Clingan had a radio show when I was 15 and getting started on
guitar. Later he joined my band but in a few years he disappeared. I
would discover 20 years later he had been living in the woods, sleeping
under dry cleaning bags and pulling his bad teeth with wire pliers. He
was probably dying when someone took him to an AA center in Ft. Myers. I
found him there. He came home to resume writing songs and entertaining
and has been dry for 16 years. Redbird
and I were active in the musical ministry of Carpenter’s Cowboy Church
– a church started by a minister wanting to be a pastor to working
musicians. We wanted local legend Buck Turner to come to a service and
sing. He said, “I will if you and Redbird will sing harmony with
me.” We agree and set up a practice session. After hours of intense
practice, Buck still was unsure that we were ready. So we had another
long session. Then he wanted to go to a studio and listen to a playback
of the songs we had rehearsed. As he listened to the playback he smiled
and said, “I am ready.” It still overwhelms me that he set his
personal standard of performance so high even when he had retired. I clearly see it’s not what you achieve that matters but who you get to experience.
|
