On the masthead of this blog it states my intentions to report and comment on the inside nuances of the entertainment industry with an emphasis on the music section. Today will be the exception. Today marks the end of a year of personal struggle to get back on track from the horrible lady we know as Katrina.
One year ago today my wife, stepson, five fully grown dogs, two puppies and I took off from Mississippi to the northwest quadrant of the path of Katrina. Fortunate for us, we have a full sized van with the rear seats taken out. We ended up in a parking lot of a Cracker Barrel restaurant in central Louisiana where we spend two and a half days waiting for someone to check out of any close by motel room.
The decision to run from the storm came from deep inside. It was a seminal moment that proved to be most correct.
My wife is from New Orleans and had been through some of the big ones including Betsy. Her family had stayed through all of those storms with each one making my wife more afraid of each new one that came along. “This is the big one”, she said. She made it clear that she wanted to run but being a G.R.I.T.S. (Girls Raised in the South), she left the final decision up to me. No decision to be made. Off we went.
If you want to hear the full story, continue on. If you have heard enough stories of Hurricane Katrina, just go to the bottom of this post and continue with the stories that make up this blog. The rest of this story is my psychological outlet for what has built up for a year.
Traffic getting out of town was horrid, even with both sides of the interstate highways going north or west depending on which you were traveling. The trip to Alexandria, Louisiana should have taken about three or four hours. It was an exhausting thirteen hours before we arrived at the predetermined city. Now I had to find a motel room. Well, I really knew that was out of the question, but we tried. Most of the motels simply put signs in the office windows telling everyone to just keep moving.
We found a spot, as I mentioned above, in the parking lot of the Cracker Barrel at an exit along Interstate 49. I chose this location because there were four motels, three restaurants, three gas stations and an expectation of not seeing the brunt of the hurricane. I knew from my experience that hurricanes veered northeast as soon as they hit land. Or they are supposed to take that direction.
In one paragraph, I will finish the running and get to the return.
We spent three nights in the parking lot. Our reasoning had been correct about the course of the storm. The only winds and rain we saw in Alexandria were 25 mph gusts and a small trickle of rain. Our first sign of having made a correct decision made its mark. We finally got a motel room the third day. They normally did not admit animals, but they waived all the normal protocols because of the storm. The whole world as we knew it was so cooperative that it was eerie, even for the normally welcoming South. We could not get home yet because of the trees down on all major highways and also the authorities did not open some to the highways to traffic to purposely keep people away.
Finally, September 3rd we were able to wind our way back to home in Hattiesburg, MS. Even though we had been in touch with my in-laws by cell phone that worked every once in a while, they kept telling us that they were ok but had not been able to get to where our house was. It was a nice lie considering what we saw when we finally got home.
No less than three trees had cut a path through our house. The main culprit was a massive pine (called tall pines) that had a trunk that measured four feet in diameter. It did not lean into the house like the others. This tree cut the house in half. The top of the tree was on the ground on the other side from where it fell. The house was a total wreck. Evidently the trees went early and the wind and rain had its way inside the house. But here is the reason I said in the beginning of this story that we made such a fitting decision to leave. The main tree had fallen on a slight angle that represented the place where I normally sit to watch TV and then on to the recliner where my wife normally sits. Would we have been in those seats? Who knows, and who wants to even think about it. Thank You Lord.
This story could continue on for almost book length. It at least could be a Readers Digest size special story. How do I condense the rest and make it meaningful. But continue I will because this is my therapy, finally.
If anyone else reading this is from the areas affected by Katrina, you know that the next ten or longer days were some of the hottest, windless, humid days ever seen in the area. We had no electricity to start any kind of cleanup. No communications with the local world except a couple of radio stations that had generators and stored up on their fuel to run them. No TV stations on the air. Hattiesburg, MS was cut off from the world.
We were not alone. Most of Mississippi south of Meridian shared in this fate. I suspect that some of the very small cities have still not been heard from. But the lack of communications is most likely the reason the rest of the world focused on the misery of New Orleans. But this semi-affluent community was also waiting in lines every day to get meals, water, ice and news. After the canned goods went and the propane fueled camping stoves were exhausted, it was MREs with the rest of the millions of other people.
Does everyone know that Hattiesburg, MS, sixty five miles from the Gulf Coast had 145 mph winds? Did you know that one in seven trees in the area was blown down? Did you know that eighty percent of all homes suffered roof damage? Do you know that at this date, there are still more than half of those homes that still do not have their damage repaired? A few streets are still impassible. This storm was as devastating to us as it was to anyone closer to the gulf coast. No matter how you lose your home, it is devastating. In fact, the storm veered northeast before it even hit land and missed a direct hit on New Orleans. I hope most people know by now that it was the back side of the storm that overtopped and breached the levees in New Orleans. The storm’s main fury missed New Orleans and hit Slidell and east, taking out – meaning wiping out- the resort cities of Gulf Port and Biloxi, MS. My wife’s three brothers still live in New Orleans and were forced to ride out the storm. One is a police officer. One is an EMT. The other is a nurse at one of the hospitals that was flooded out. All were involved in the massive rescue effort. But that is their tale to tell.
The house was totaled by the insurance company. State Farm and FEMA, contrary to other stories you hear, did right by us. The fourth day we were back, we had a nice temporary check from the insurance company and it was only a little over a week before we got a small check to help in cleanup from FEMA in our checking account. This took work on our part. We did not just sit back and wait for help. We needed to make choices. Damn it is hard to make choices that link to all of your past and will affect so much of the future. But make them we did. The life history that still lays in a now sun hardened heap in front of the old house shows that.
Coincidental to the hurricane, my son living in Nashville, Tennessee had been told just a few weeks prior to the storm that he was to be going to Afghanistan. He had already been to Iraq the first time around. He had a two year old daughter that I had not been able to visit as much as I wanted. The perfect setup appeared. We would go to Tennessee, live with my daughter-in-law for a while to keep her company and help out until we settled with the insurance company.
With her permission to tell you, my wife was a basket case. The events from the moment we laid eyes on our demolished house until sometime later when we were in Tennessee are gone from her memory. Through the valiant effort of the Red Cross she was referred to a very well known and high dollar, psychiatrist in Nashville that volunteered her services.
To further compound the issue, my wife soon had to undergo another surgery in her quest to repair her badly injured back. And then she found out during the exams leading up to the surgery that she was diabetic. Enough I say. Give this lady some peace. There was just no time for me to go haywire at this point. But it was building. To speak of someone else’s problems is sympathy for that person. To speak of ones own problems is sympathy mongering. I will not dabble in that territory. I will only say that I am a disabled veteran that has had to make over twenty visits to the local VA since moving here. I think all is ok now. At least that is what they tell me.
We've decided that we want to stay here in the Nashville area. I lived here before and I loved it. My wife never lived here, but she loves it. We found a house next door to my son’s house. That is providence working.
We are settled in and ready for the next test if it is coming. We made it through this one; we can make it through any of them.
Now I feel better already.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Friday, August 18, 2006
Memories - A Tale Told Two Ways
Last night I followed my own advice and spent a good while listening and chatting on the internet station "Carolina Country Radio" If some of you guessed that the first story told on this blog was a personal experience, you would be correct. The reason that I still have not disclosed the names in that column is a simple matter of authenticating my own memory of the events. As soon as I can get in touch with one more person, I will insert all of the names.
Back to last night. While discussing with Charlie Ammerman on the air last night, another story that fits the theme of this blog came out. It is the second story that I hinted about in my first entry. Full disclosure this time; it involves Charlie Ammerman, the principle of the story and yours truly.
In the early 1970's what we now call CMA Awards Week centered around Opryland was referred to as the "Disc Jockey Convention". It was the time of year when all of the stars and would be stars had hospitality suites all over downtown Nashville. More like what we used to call "Fan Fare" which sprang forth to take the DJ week's place.
One of the largest clubs at the time was "George Jones' Possum Holler" in Printers Alley. You locals now know that site as the Bat Building. They tore old George's club down for a telephone company highrise. During DJ week, entertainment was so plentiful you had to make choices of which venue to attend. There was no formal scheduling, at least not with each other. But one place you had an excellent chance to see a lot of big talent, as well as the up and coming, was at Possum Holler. The theme there was "you never know who you will see at Possum Holler" . That was no idle brag, it was true. At a later time, I will talk more about Possum Holler where I was directly involved from 1975 until it closed to become "Jerry Lee Lewis' Country Showcase". Now there's a mouthful. See how I keep drifting off topic. It is easy to do when so much happened in those years.
"George Jones Possum Holler" boasted a V.I.P. section that was right next to the stage (strategic placement) where the stars could sit with their friends in peace but still be seen by the general public and just maybe (wink, wink) jump up on the stage for an impromptu performance. During DJ week the section had to be staffed pretty heavily to keep the tourists from mobbing the raised area.
One of the people handling the ropes, that parted to give access to the V.I.P., was none other than Charlie Ammerman mentioned in the last post and above. Another was Sandy Baggott, the brother of the true owner of the club, Shug Baggott and George's Manager at the time. Now, this is where my memory and Charlie Ammerman's memory differ just a little. It does not alter the story.
This hobo came walking in with a guitar hanging around his neck. We often had every shape and description of person walking into the club wanting exposure. At first I was taken aback by this very well spoken hobo and figured out quickly that it was a gimmick act. Entrance to the elite section of the club was certainly not the place for this fellow. But then something happened. He asked if he could just sing a few songs in the lobby, which was very large and had people milling around all the time taking pictures and buying souvenirs. That was my part of the security effort. I told him to go ahead and lets see what he had going.
WOW! That is the only way to put it. He was generating more applause in the lobby than some of the acts on stage. I determined real quickly that Boxcar Willie needed to be on the stage. The story does not end yet.
I walked Boxcar through the crowd to the V.I.P. section (and this is where the story varies). I thought that I spoke to Sandy Baggott, but Charlie Ammerman remembers distinctly that he was the one who took one look at Boxcar and told me I was crazy. Someone looking like that had to be just a gimmick entertainer and it was not the night for gimmicks. I argued the point for a few minutes and then I was told that if I was willing to take the fallout from putting the wrong person on the stage, go ahead. I had a pretty good track record with talent. I felt secure with a smirk on my face.
Boxcar Willie was one of the nicest men that I ever met. Not just in entertainment, but in all of my life. He went on stage and brought the house to their feet. Someone in the audience heard him perform and if you have ever seen his show, you know he was a performer, not just a singer. Some say it was Roy Acuff, but I don't remember Acuff being there that night. But no matter who it was, that weekend Boxcar appeared as a guest on the Grand Ole Opry. Within months his star shot sky high and he was later inducted into the Grand Ole Opry. Biography here.
Boxcar was also one of the prime movers of Branson, MO and helped establish that cities future. We will miss this man.
As I disclaim at the end of each story, there is no way to know what would have happened if I had not argued the point to get him on stage. With his talent he may have still gone on to glory. But it is satisfying to know, that in this case, what I did helped.
Back to last night. While discussing with Charlie Ammerman on the air last night, another story that fits the theme of this blog came out. It is the second story that I hinted about in my first entry. Full disclosure this time; it involves Charlie Ammerman, the principle of the story and yours truly.
In the early 1970's what we now call CMA Awards Week centered around Opryland was referred to as the "Disc Jockey Convention". It was the time of year when all of the stars and would be stars had hospitality suites all over downtown Nashville. More like what we used to call "Fan Fare" which sprang forth to take the DJ week's place.
One of the largest clubs at the time was "George Jones' Possum Holler" in Printers Alley. You locals now know that site as the Bat Building. They tore old George's club down for a telephone company highrise. During DJ week, entertainment was so plentiful you had to make choices of which venue to attend. There was no formal scheduling, at least not with each other. But one place you had an excellent chance to see a lot of big talent, as well as the up and coming, was at Possum Holler. The theme there was "you never know who you will see at Possum Holler" . That was no idle brag, it was true. At a later time, I will talk more about Possum Holler where I was directly involved from 1975 until it closed to become "Jerry Lee Lewis' Country Showcase". Now there's a mouthful. See how I keep drifting off topic. It is easy to do when so much happened in those years.
"George Jones Possum Holler" boasted a V.I.P. section that was right next to the stage (strategic placement) where the stars could sit with their friends in peace but still be seen by the general public and just maybe (wink, wink) jump up on the stage for an impromptu performance. During DJ week the section had to be staffed pretty heavily to keep the tourists from mobbing the raised area.
One of the people handling the ropes, that parted to give access to the V.I.P., was none other than Charlie Ammerman mentioned in the last post and above. Another was Sandy Baggott, the brother of the true owner of the club, Shug Baggott and George's Manager at the time. Now, this is where my memory and Charlie Ammerman's memory differ just a little. It does not alter the story.
This hobo came walking in with a guitar hanging around his neck. We often had every shape and description of person walking into the club wanting exposure. At first I was taken aback by this very well spoken hobo and figured out quickly that it was a gimmick act. Entrance to the elite section of the club was certainly not the place for this fellow. But then something happened. He asked if he could just sing a few songs in the lobby, which was very large and had people milling around all the time taking pictures and buying souvenirs. That was my part of the security effort. I told him to go ahead and lets see what he had going.
WOW! That is the only way to put it. He was generating more applause in the lobby than some of the acts on stage. I determined real quickly that Boxcar Willie needed to be on the stage. The story does not end yet.
I walked Boxcar through the crowd to the V.I.P. section (and this is where the story varies). I thought that I spoke to Sandy Baggott, but Charlie Ammerman remembers distinctly that he was the one who took one look at Boxcar and told me I was crazy. Someone looking like that had to be just a gimmick entertainer and it was not the night for gimmicks. I argued the point for a few minutes and then I was told that if I was willing to take the fallout from putting the wrong person on the stage, go ahead. I had a pretty good track record with talent. I felt secure with a smirk on my face.
Boxcar Willie was one of the nicest men that I ever met. Not just in entertainment, but in all of my life. He went on stage and brought the house to their feet. Someone in the audience heard him perform and if you have ever seen his show, you know he was a performer, not just a singer. Some say it was Roy Acuff, but I don't remember Acuff being there that night. But no matter who it was, that weekend Boxcar appeared as a guest on the Grand Ole Opry. Within months his star shot sky high and he was later inducted into the Grand Ole Opry. Biography here.
Boxcar was also one of the prime movers of Branson, MO and helped establish that cities future. We will miss this man.
As I disclaim at the end of each story, there is no way to know what would have happened if I had not argued the point to get him on stage. With his talent he may have still gone on to glory. But it is satisfying to know, that in this case, what I did helped.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Carolina Country Radio
While I was reestablishing contacts from many years ago to gather stories for this blog, I ran across and old friend by the name of Charlie Ammerman.
Now, Charlie knows everyone in Nashville from "back in the day". Charlie has a staunch love for the older country music sound or the young artists true to that sound. He loves it so much that he is willing to put his money where his mouth is. He has started a very professional internet based country radio station called "Carolina Country". His studios are in North Carolina and he has offices here in Nashville. So, if you are online working, playing or just nearby the computer, give the station a listen.
Charlie and I were contemporaries in Nashville during the 1970's and 1980's. At one time or another we had the same or similar projects taking place. He has more stories to tell than I could ever make up. And 95% of his stories are true. I intend to depend quite a bit on Charlie to get this blog going at full speed with interesting tales of that time and now. Between the two of us, we know where a lot of the bodies are buried.
On Tuesday, August 22nd at 7:00 PM Central Time, Charlie is going to dedicate an entire hour (or more) of his show to the one project that we were on and off together during the 70's and 80's - George Jones. He is hoping for a lot of fans to listen to the show and use the online live chat to request songs, to give chat ideas or even to tell about their experiences in country music. This should really be fun.
Note: Carolina Country is off air.
Now, Charlie knows everyone in Nashville from "back in the day". Charlie has a staunch love for the older country music sound or the young artists true to that sound. He loves it so much that he is willing to put his money where his mouth is. He has started a very professional internet based country radio station called "Carolina Country". His studios are in North Carolina and he has offices here in Nashville. So, if you are online working, playing or just nearby the computer, give the station a listen.
Charlie and I were contemporaries in Nashville during the 1970's and 1980's. At one time or another we had the same or similar projects taking place. He has more stories to tell than I could ever make up. And 95% of his stories are true. I intend to depend quite a bit on Charlie to get this blog going at full speed with interesting tales of that time and now. Between the two of us, we know where a lot of the bodies are buried.
On Tuesday, August 22nd at 7:00 PM Central Time, Charlie is going to dedicate an entire hour (or more) of his show to the one project that we were on and off together during the 70's and 80's - George Jones. He is hoping for a lot of fans to listen to the show and use the online live chat to request songs, to give chat ideas or even to tell about their experiences in country music. This should really be fun.
Note: Carolina Country is off air.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Thank You For Your Replies
I am not surprised at the response that I have received from so many of you that have emailed me. I am still new at blogging mechanics, so I know the comments section is not working correctly. I will fix that as soon as I get a response from Blogspot to tell me what is wrong.
Two more tales are on the way within the next couple of days. I need to check on a few facts before publishing them. I hope you would expect me to take the time to do that.
It is my general intention to publish the facts much like presented to me. Different people see things different ways and I recognize that. But the initial story has to hold water before it goes up on this blog. Publicity, good or bad, is not my goal.
If you email me with a basic outline of the content of your story and please include a way to speak to you, the person, and I will call you. Hotmail gives out email addresses very easily.
Again, thank you for the response. Keep those emails coming.
Two more tales are on the way within the next couple of days. I need to check on a few facts before publishing them. I hope you would expect me to take the time to do that.
It is my general intention to publish the facts much like presented to me. Different people see things different ways and I recognize that. But the initial story has to hold water before it goes up on this blog. Publicity, good or bad, is not my goal.
If you email me with a basic outline of the content of your story and please include a way to speak to you, the person, and I will call you. Hotmail gives out email addresses very easily.
Again, thank you for the response. Keep those emails coming.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Chaos In The Music Industry
Butterflies Are Free Blog is dedicated to the untold stories in the music industry with a focus on Nashville. It will most likely end up focused on the Country Music industry, but no one really knows.
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Chaos: For our purposes the classic definition of chaos does not apply. Instead, this article is about the lesser known reference to the word as used in “Chaos Theory”."Chaos Theory" is usually defined by a simple and more understandable phrase - "The Butterfly Effect": A butterfly flaps his winds in Argentina and through a series of seemingly unrelated events causes a tornado in Texas. So, how does this relate to the music industry? Here is a true story with the names omitted (for now).
Chaos: For our purposes the classic definition of chaos does not apply. Instead, this article is about the lesser known reference to the word as used in “Chaos Theory”."Chaos Theory" is usually defined by a simple and more understandable phrase - "The Butterfly Effect": A butterfly flaps his winds in Argentina and through a series of seemingly unrelated events causes a tornado in Texas. So, how does this relate to the music industry? Here is a true story with the names omitted (for now).
In 1979 a minor music executive was on an expedition in surrounding states to find talented groups to be signed and booked into a collective of same named night clubs. One of these groups had an exceptional guitar picker that was also a very exceptional musician and writer. Long story short, the band was signed. They traveled for a while in the circuit, but this music executive was more interested in the guitar picker than the band.
In 1980, the picker was convinced to move to Nashville even though he did not have the money to effect such a move, having just married and with a baby on the way. Remember now that the executive was not a major mover and shaker in the industry, so he could only invite the talented man to move into his house while the writer was introduced around town. So where do the butterflies enter the picture? This song magician is now one of the most prolific song writers in the city of Nashville. The musician has played his melodious guitar on hundreds of record cuts that have been heard by by an entire nation.
But the music executive, like so many other music executives, moved away from Nashville. He went into another industry and became a computer engineer, never to set foot in Nashville again for 25 years. Just how much of an unsung hero was he to the industry? Let's see.
The musician went on to have a dozen number one hits. In addition, he has had many that made it into the top 20. If it wasn’t for several of those singles, many artists that you know today might never have been known at all. The writers contribution was the springboard to their success. Am I sure of this? No. But just think about how things happen in the business.
The same music executive has more stories of the same type. He promises me he will reveal them later in this blog. I am sure there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of similar stories like the one above. I also will bet that these people would love to get noticed for an intervention like the one above. They are not seeking fame or fortune. Just the satisfaction that someone finally knows what it is that they did.
Do you have a similar story to tell? Send me an email at the address below with your name and a way to contact you.The blog is http://butterfliesarefreeblog.blogspot.com/ Email me at gareyw@gmail.com.
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