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UMI'
A USER’S GUIDE TO COSMIC AMERICAN MUSIC:
ANOVEL
by
Christopher Scott Gleason
A dissertation submitted to the faculty o f

The University o f Utah
in partial fulfillment o f the requirements for the degree o f
Doctor of Philosophy
Department o f English
The University o f Utah
December 2001
UMI Number: 3021482
___ ®
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Copyright © Christopher Scott Gleason 2001
All Rights Reserved
THE UNIVERSITY OF UTAH GRADUATE SCHOOL
SUPERVISORY COMMITTEE APPROVAL
of a dissertation submitted by
C h r is t o p h e r S c o t t G le a s o n
This dissertation has been read by each member of the following supervisory committee
and by majority vote has been found to be satisfactory.
3 • P )
Chain
D a v id K ran es
3 -s~- & i
r g a r e t B rady
3 -h ^ - o/
S t e p h e n Tatum
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F r a n c o i s Camoin
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H en ry S t a t e n
THE U N I V E R S I T Y OF UTAH GRADUATE SCHOOL
FINAL READING APPROVAL
To the Graduate Council of the University of Utah:

I have read the dissertation of C h r i s t o p h e r S c o t t G le a s o n ________ in its final
form and have found that (1) its format, citations, and bibliographic style are consistent
and acceptable; (2) its illustrative materials including figures, tables, and charts are in
place; and (3) the final manuscript is satisfactory to the supervisory committee and is
ready for submission to The Graduate School.
g-s~- oi _____________________
Dale D a v id K r a n e s
Chair, Supervisory Committee
Approved for the Major Department
C U (.
C h a r le s B e r g e r
Chair/Dean
Approved for the Graduate Council
d O ^ T ) ________
David S. Chapma^
Dean of The Graduate School
ABSTRACT
“There are very few people who groove on anonymity.” Mick Jagger said that.
But, celebrity poses its own problems. Henry Adams once wrote a letter to Henry
James, advising him to commit the “suicide” o f autobiography rather than suffer the
“homicide” o f biography. Adams had recently committed his own such suicide in The
Education o f Henry Adams. “A mere shield o f protection in the grave,” he called it,
emphasizing the potential violence o f the written word, and the potential vulnerability o f
the written subject.
In the fall o f 1980, Carl Stoldtman offered similar advice to a disconsolate Hank
Pete, whose underground celebrity as a “progressive country” musician in Austin was on
the verge o f going national— or going bust. He had the following, no doubt. The talent.
The charisma. But like so many o f his peers from Austin in the seventies, he was
reluctant to leave the creature comfort o f Texas Hill Country for the commercial comfort
o f Los Angeles or New York. He needed exposure, and, as the novelist D on Delillo said
in 1973: “Perhaps the only natural law attaching to true fame is that the famous man is
compelled, eventually, to commit suicide.” Pseudocide, anyway.
A U ser’s Guide to Cosmic Am erican Music is a novel that tests the boundaries
between biography and autobiography, feet and fiction, culture and pop culture, recording
and memory, celebrity and anonymity. The protagonist o f the novel, M arty Kelso,
believes that he may in feet be one o f the “few” who can indeed groove on anonymity,
and he tries to convince his friend and rival, Hank Pete, to believe the same.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ABSTRACT...................................................................................................................... iv
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.............................................................................................. viii
HANK PETE: A FRAGILE FAMILY TREE............................................................... 1
PREFACE..........................................................................................................................3
EXERGUE........................................................................................................................ 10
PREAMBLE..................................................................................................................... 11
AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF COSMIC AMERICAN M USIC..................................... 28
A ......................................................................................................................................... 29
B ..........................................................................................................................................50
C ..........................................................................................................................................78
D ......................................................................................................................................... 105
E ......................................................................................................................................... 121
F .......................................................................................................................................... 124
G ......................................................................................................................................... 128
H ......................................................................................................................................... 190
1........................................................................................................................................... 206
J ...........................................................................................................................................209
K ..........................................................................................................................................214
L ......................................................................................................................................... 224
M ............................................................................ 235
N ........................................................................................................................................... 251
O ........................................................................................................................................... 256
P ............................................................................................................................................262
Q ........................................................................................................................................... 281
R ........................................................................................................................................... 281
S ............................................................................................................................................ 300
T ............................................................................................................................................317
U ........................................................................................................................................... 337
V ........................................................................................................................................... 337
W .......................................................................................................................................... 339
X ........................................................................................................................................... 350
Y ........................................................................................................................................... 351
Z ............................................................................................................................................353
CHRONOLOGY.................................................................................................................354
IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY...................................................................365
WORKS C IT E D ................................................................................................................ 377
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to all o f the members o f my Supervisory Committee: David Kranes
(Chair), Meg Brady, Francois Camoin, Henry Staten, Steve Tatum; Thanks also to Karen
Brennan, Alicia Barber, Evelyn Sherboume, Nicolas Spitzer, Eric Treanor, Sheila Wills,
and Tom Yokishima.
A particular debt o f gratitude is owed to T.J. Gerlach, for all of his valuable
criticism, moral support, and overall good friendship. And to Bobbi for “The Moose.”
Finally, deepest thanks to my wife, Julie Anne; my parents, Chuck and Iris; and
my sister, Jodi—for their incredible patience, love, and support.
HANK PETE:
A FRAGILE FAMILY TREE
HanK P ete nat bom Henry David Peterson in Hollywood, fL in i15</. Me met Marty K d u ,
in 1106, and by 1101 Ihe two had become close friends and rivals. In iflo , they CO-founded
a small but influential bootleg recording business. New World Fecords, which produced the
original vinyl pressings o f such 'infam ous' titles a s The Beatles' ftilly Sheared. The FVfing
flurrito bras' Nostalgia fc Slow Country, and DereK 6r The Dominos' Love Me or 01 Shoot.
among others. In spite of num erous personal differences (including several contests over
the same women), Peterson and Kelso continued to wort: with one another throughout the
iflo s. Kelso even served as an unofficial m anager for the short-lived but influential Dead
Young Cowboys.
po o m re M p e p A x u p e
Winter 1177. to Late-flpring ifT9. While Peterson and Kelso were still in high
school, they briefly joined together to form a roct and roll band called FOOM
T£M P£PAXUK£, little more than a teenage garage band which played parties and
a school dances. When Henry dropped out o f school in the Summer o f *T? to
pursue fame and fortune in Los A ngeles, C K he toot: two o f his bandmates along
with him. Marty K elso was not one o f them. Som e say he chose to stay in Florida
and finish school. Others suggest that he wasn't invited.
I
Henry P eterson Marty Kelso Fandy Marvin Timmy Pettier
guitar, vocals bass guitar lead guitar drums
Tune ifT? to Thanksgiving ift? . When Henry Peterson and co. arrived in California, they
swiftly changed the name o f the band from Foom Temperature to The Slow Moving Drains and
started playing country m usic. They managed to get them selves booked at a few honkytonks
around the fringes of L .A ., and even had a very brief encounter with their idol, Ciram P arsons,
who died within a month or so o f their encounter Marty Kelso unintentionally convinces the
band that they should seek out the greener m usical pastures of Austin, TX.
THe SLOW
MOVING DPAINS *1
Henry Peterson Fandy Marvin Timmy PeHier Cameron Keyes

guitar, vocals lead guitar drums bass guitar
2
rue SLOW
MOVING DRAINS *2-
1 1------------
r l
rienr| Peterson Ducky Phillips Timmy Peltier £ameron Keye6

guitar, vocals pedal steel drums bass guitar
6r lead guitar
1 Henry 'Peterson changed his name to Hank P ete

and h is band name to The Floorbirds. They
THE FLOOP-etPOS continued to preach 6iram P arsons to rooms h a lf
full o f Willie Nelson sycophants.
Feb. ifJ 4 to
March if!® .
I---------- I 1-------- 1
Hank Pete Ducky Phillips Timmy Peltier Tean-Paul George
guitar, vocals pedal steel drums bass guitar
6r lead guitar t r keyboards
t Hank wanted h is
own Emmylou
sh o rt'liv e d solo project Harris. Stacy
couldn't sin g
I---------- I (country, anyway).
Hank Pete Stacy Walgreen
guitar, vocals vocals
if7S to I1SO. Stacy Walgreen convinces Hank and Marty to go see the Sen P isto ls in
Dallas, and it changes their lives, though not immediately. Stacy takes the lead,
forming an a ll-g irl punk band (although The Violators beat her to the punch). Hank
Pete follows suit and goes punk, inadvertently helping to pioneer a new genre, cowpunk
(dubbed the 'N o Fun* Movement, after the Dead Young Cowboys cover of a Sen
P istols cover o f an tqqy Pop son g). ^
hank ?ere & rrte veOtOa sut£tpes

THe DEAD YOUN& i 1-------- I "I
£OWfrOYS Stacy Walgreen Tenna Pice Karen Steensma Till Tones
Vocals bass guitar drum s
I----------------------1------------------
Hank Pete Timmy Peltier Tea n-P au l 6«eorge

guitar.vocals drums b ass guitar
PREFACE
4
RESU1TVEXTHES
Late t* \ •* s?r- ‘ Morning
Racing U 0 6 A n a e le S Final
Beatle John Lennon Slain

Shot Down Outside New York Apartment
Man Termed “Screwball'
Some Trying Held in Death orSingcr
Surgery as
a Preventive
C.+6.7..C
Brezhnev Assailed Over Gasoline Prices
P o lf c v i n A f g h a n i s t a n CumbraR; More
Increases Seen
U .S . Is C lo se r to H o stag e
Finger Points to Foul Play
Finger Points to Foul Play

l y KAREN W OODS W EI CRMAX. T m a SiaffWritcr
JOSHUA TREE-Joskua Tree lrn i . was regisered to Herr} alive or dead at the time the finpre
housekeeper. Roacmasy Ftguercico Pcxrw n. bcner known as liaak was renewed.
i; used 10 tinting all sons of Pcx. tt 'counm -rock' musician This b n a the first tine that th m
sarpriscs. Week-old food srap>. t o n Amlin. T ens. P rerson had has been excitement in Euan M.
Hypadcrnic needles. once even e been staying at die mote! for six in 1973. anotter ro d musidai.
Mood}' pandan. B n never days price to h e incident, and G ran Parsons, suffered a h n l
ictylhing like this. On Manda>. affidavits t o n tie motel manager, cardac arrest— a drugoserdoae—
she found a severed bureau finger •wee than one housekeeper, and m the very tame room. According
■ die shower Mail o f the room she several tetel guests suggest thet he so the Inn's frcnt d a k desk.
e a r dealing. Figuereido. forty- spent mcd ofthctim e quietly in fix Petersoe. had stayed here res sevta!
A nx. re fu te d the inddcil ar lici m u i . Fwcnsiu expert! tim e }ct oxasiors in tie pot. and le
sjpenistr who promptly d d n e ra in c whither the finger in ilw r o requested Routn M. Poicx
IrieptioBaJ police in neasby Vucca fact heiongs to Petersen or say that, as o f this time. they a e
Valley. P dice hnrc net yd someone else Bid whether is .-sot nailing any suspect! proper,
u rc h e d the fingerprint, hit •wiser, whoever hat mirin be. was nut tan they do suspect foul play
officials say that the ran. (writer
5
There are very few people who groove on anonymity. Mick Jagger said that.
Well, sure he did. But out here in the high desert country o f south-central California,
people have their own special way o f looking at the matter. Which is to say that there are
many here who do very much groove on anonymity. And I count myself among them,
though I try to keep my distance. I’ve come here to write, after all, and I sorely need my
privacy—not to mention my ghosts. Unfortunately for me, those ghosts live a few miles
down the road in Room #8 o f the Joshua Tree Inn, a once seedy concrete bunker o f a
motor inn that is now a m uch too cozy bed & breakfost, complete with floral drapes,
ruffled bedspreads, and a nightly rate that’s totally out o f my price range.
So I’ve rented an air-conditioned trailer instead, on a dirt alley running parallel to
Twenty-Nine Palms Highway. It’s closer to the air force base than it is to the Park,
which isn’t ideal, although it certainly is a bargain. The price comes with a few trade
offs, my landlord, Reese Rudd, being one o f them. H e isn’t such a bad guy, once you get
past the firearms and the paranoia—if such a thing is possible— and besides he’s away at
The Compound more days than not, which is when I manage to get some writing done.
Today was not one o f those days. And nights are another story altogether. He’s
usually up late, like last night, firing his 9mm pistol at the moon in an attempt to shush
the coyotes, which does nothing o f the sort, and hasn’t once in the entire month and a half
that I’ve lived on his property. I want to believe that, deep down, Reese is aware o f the
impotence o f his bullets on these occasions, that the gunshots are simply his short-
circuited way o f barking back, yet my better judgement tells me this is little more than
wishful thinking.
6
He was up at the crack o f dawn this morning, banging on the aluminum frame o f
my screenless screen door. I had decided not to answer, but Reese just came around to
my bedroom window and started knocking on the glass. I could see the top o f his
crewcut silhouetted against the half-closed blinds. He’s barely five foot five, and I could
tell by the way his shadow jittered that he was up on his tip-toes.
itHow<fy\n I heard him say, in a shout that he postured like a whisper.
I shut the lid to my laptop, then got up and cranked open the trailer window.
“You still sleeping?” he said.
“What’s the matter, Reese...”
“Hoping to ask you a favor,” he said. “You want a smoke?” Reese poked an
open pack o f Marlboro reds through one o f the glass slats. I didn’t accept one just yet.
“Hold on a minute,” I said. “I ’ll be right out.”
I tossed a shirt on top o f the laptop—just in case. I’ve learned not to even bring
up the subject o f computers when I’m around Reese— and that even the sight o f one is
enough to set him off. During my first week in town, I made the mistake of telling
Reese how cool it w as to be able to download MP3s o ff the internet.
“Keep doing that,” he said, lighting a fresh cigarette off the embers o f his last one.
“They’ll track you dow n eventually. M ark my words. They’ll get ya! Phone lines, I ’m
telling you. They’ll get you every time. Might as well just give 'em a map leading right
up to your front door.”
Reese is a freak in more ways than one. He claims to have done light shows for
The Thirteenth Floor Elevators (when they played in L. A.), dropped acid with Sky Saxon
o f the Seeds. He tells stories o f Manson, Brian Wilson, Phil Kaufman, Gram Parsons.
7
From what I’ve been able to piece together, Reese is in hiding from at least two wives,
seven kids, the IRS, and the Church o f Jesus Christ o f Latter D ay Saints, among others.
He’s a real Hunter Thompson-type. A Hippie redneck card-carrying NRA member.
Peyote and guns, that sort o f thing.
When he isn’t smoking cigarettes he’s teething on a wooden match stick. Always
carries a box o f Rosewoods. He never uses a lighter... He’ll chew them down to about
half their original length, and once they get that short, he’ll strike it on his zipper, the
porch stoop, a rock, and spark up a Marlboro with it. You can always tell where he’s
been by the little trail o f splinters he leaves in his wake.
The hardest part about coming out to Joshua Tree was giving up my collection,
boxing it up and leaving the archive behind. They say that such sacrifices are indications
o f suicidal behavior. And in a way, that is what’s going on here. I am planning a kind o f
suicide—and a kind o f homicide as well. The suicide o f autobiograpy. The homicide o f
biography. Henry Adams once wrote a letter to Henry James, advising him to commit
the “suicide” o f autobiography rather than suffer the “homicide” o f biography. Adams
had recently committed his own such suicide in The Education o f Henrv Adams. “A
mere shield o f protection in the grave,” he called it, emphasizing the potential violence o f
the written word, and the potential vulnerability o f the written subject.
So, for now at least, the archive has been replaced by the hard-drive....the
turntable and stereo by a laptop computer. O f course I get to double dip: I have MS-
WORD files AND I have MP3 files. I have graphic files, the internet— everything at my
fingertips, though 6 gigabytes cannot begin to contain the wealth o f material I have
8
collected over the years. And then, o f course, it can’t reproduce the sensory, the tactile
experience, o f album covers, gatefold sleeves, VINYL. Hell, with the advent o f MP3 s,
JPEGS, BMPs, I ’m even b eginning to get nostalgic about those little CD covers,
booklets, and jewel cases! I ’ve been twice removed now from the immediacy and
intimacy o f plastic and cardboard— such simple pleasures... but pleasures nonetheless!
Yet it’s been the collecting mentality, the archiving personality, which has led me
down this road, and quite logically, to this new habit, new media, to yet another means o f
(re)writing another’s life—and my own. What follows was originally intended to be a
work o f fiction, a novel. It has become increasingly a work or non-fiction, though not
entirely. Is it still a novel? Perhaps. It may well be the greatest rock and roll novel
never written! Or perhaps it is a 400 page thesis for a novel. A work o f madness,
obsession, and indecision. It is most certainly a w ork o f nostalgia—a relentless study o f
the desire for an imagined p a st... for despite the fact that these characters may well have
lived and breathed at one time or another, any traces o f them are by now, and by nature,
simply memories o f death. Nagging little memories o f death. So trivial, so artificial,
and such music to my eyes and ears.
9
Dead Y o a ig Cowboy Reported M iaaaj

at least M c lia g e r
A ustin Americcm-Statesman
Tuesday, December 9, 1980
Page C7
CW SHAW
49 T$e*Y tW*WTWUT
$3.29
«f* »»6
Dead Young Cowboy Reported Missing—

at least one finger
Las A a te fo — Dead Ynu>^'
C w » M guitarist and lead singer From thopooplo who brought you Cinomi Wool,
Hank Pete h a been reported Unlnonol Amm omont Co. proudly ouoouneos tho
SM I
m issing in California, and he
may he missing som ething cisc:
oequMUoooltho ToxoaTkootro. . . .
his mmdrSe/m fp ii . The singer
UNIVERSAI A M U S EM E N T
fishermans £fc had been staying at the Joshua
Tree In n .« mntcJ sh to ted in the
high desert ammtry o f th e lower
un
Mojave, several hours east o f
Los Aapelca. Just yesterday. a
housekeeper at th e motel
discovered a severed human
finger in the stow cr stall o f one
200$. ’40-5719
o f the r a n o she w as d a rtin g IlD R I A K L O f L
and reported her discovery to the
police. This naan wb» BEMKBRW!
rv g rsierd to I k i r y P o tr w e . aka
(lank Pete. Authorities, have nor
ccnhrm cd that th e finger in
question belongs to the singer-
milfmaDfi ia “S a tu rd a y
songwriter, hut Peterson bus WK MfAWni
been missing since the discovery n a ra ftc N ig h t Fever’
of the b k edy <Spu mid. though
he Jed no other b elan g in p w ith o u t
behind, h e never formally clo th es."
chcsicd-aui o f th e m rtel.
-Kiorrtbc
rVACSIT
NStUHUff “RATED
I«pg»«»grrrr 1 102 %r
UUST
IjSmanank DESIRE LLEE BUUZE - IN COiOfl
TWScmA&W SATISFACTION
and to m u c* mora*** ea n sa l o j i i f t r in Ml Mm la ta
Ua Apt at 11-15 —
TAPESTRV
A </Am» I !WANT
n
YOU!
bkbi la m a a r a i in i
lADiaONC/ — jhw wmrc
asdsu u .
EXERGUE
EXERGUE - a small space, usually on the reverse o f a coin or medal, below the principal device, for any minor
inscription, the date, the engraver’s initials, etc.
-Oxford English Dictionary
’‘the exergue plays with citation... Consists in capitalizing on an ellipsis. In accumulating capital in advance and in
preparing the surplus value of the archive. An exergue serves to stock in anticipation and to prearchive a lexicon
which, from there on, ought to lay down the law and give the order, even if this means contenting itself with naming
the problem, that is, the subject.”
—Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever-. A Freudian Impression, p.7
PREAMBLE
AUSTIN, TEXAS: 1 9 7 0 -1 9 8 1 :
A CHRONOLOGICAL BIBLIOGRAPHY
12
Editor’s Note:
The average reader w ill no doubt be tem pted to merely skim through the follow ing
section, or perhaps even to skip it altogether. But you are urged to resist both o f these
temptations. This bibliography has N O T been designed to serve as a resource fo r
scholarly reference (although it certainly m ight be used as such). Each source listed
below has been carefully selected and arranged chronologically in order to create a
sense o f narrative coherence, an introductory overview o f the rise a n d fa ll o f the
“Progressive C ountry” movem ent in Austin, Texas. The Ideal Reader fo r this text will
not only read the bibliography page by page, but line by line and word by w ord The
Super Ideal Obsessive Compulsive Reader would, in fa ct, seek out the fu ll text o f each
source referenced and read it, beginning to end, before proceeding to the next entry.
Such a reader would also be inclined to seek out many i f not a ll o f the m usical recordings
referenced within the various books and articles—and this reader w ould not be thwarted
by the fa c t that many o f these recordings (and many o f the books and articles which
mention them, fo r that m atter) are rare, out-of-print, an d / or o f illicit origin. Where
there is a will there is a way, after all. Try used book an d records stores, inter-library
loan services, specialty magazines, m ail order catalogues, the internet. Seek out
collectors and traders o f these specialty items. There are more o fyo u out there than you
mightfirst imagine. H ow do you suppose this book was constructed?
1970
Ahrens, Pat J. “The Role o f the Crazy W ater Crystals Company in Promoting Hillbilly
Music.” JEM F Q uarterly 6, 1970. 107:9.
Cawelti, John G. The Six-G un M ystique. Bowling Green, OH: Bowling Green State
University Press, 1970.
Livingstone, William. “Piracy in the Recording Industry— Interested Parties Have

Worked for Fifteen Years to Extend the Protection o f Federal Copyright Law to
Recording, But W ithout Success. In the Meantime, Extra-Legal Operators Have
Built a Shadow ‘Industry’ That Grosses An Estimated $100 Million Annually.”
Stereo Review. February 1970.
Cherry, Hugh. “The History o f Country Music: The Forty-Eight Hour Radio
Documentary.” Los Angeles: John Thayer & D on Bruce, Together Production.
Audio Tape, 1970.
Kahn, Ed. “The Carter Family: A Reflection o f Changes in Society.” Ph.D. dissertation,
University o f Southern California, 1970.
Anonymous. “ 1,000,000 Joints to Be Distributed.” The D aily Planet. M ay 25, 1970, p .l.
13
Anonymous. “Gram Parsons—Burrito Ego Man.” M elody Maker. July 20,1975.
Simon, John. “The Most Loathesome Film of All” (film review o f Performance). New
York Times. August 23, 1970.
Anonymous. “Gimme Shelter.” Variety, “Film Reviews.” November 25, 1970, p. 13.
Schiller, Harry. ‘TJnderground Radio: WEDR, WBUS Plan New Formats, Stereo for
Christmas.” The Daily Planet. December 14, 1970, P. 6, 14.
1971
Shrake, Bud. “An Armored Force Is On the March.” Sports Illustrated. January 7,
1971, pp. 52-53.
Statten, Henry (sic). “Armadillo World Headquarters.” Texas Observer. February 1971,
pp. 18-19.
French, Phillip. “Performance.” Sight and Sound—International Film Ouaterly. Spring

1971. 40:2, pp. 67-69.
Flippo, Chet. “Freddie King and His Heavy Blues.” Rolling Stone. November 25, 1971,
p. 16.
Shaw, Greg. “Wanted— for Beating the Fat Cats A t Their Own Game: Rubber Dubber,
Bootlegger Extrordinaire” (sic). The D aily Planet. December 10, 1971, p l6 .
Anonymous. “Armadillo Man.” The New Yorker. December 11, 1971, p.42.
Malone, Bill C. “Radio and Personal Appearances: Sources and Resources. ” Western
Folklore 30, 1971, pp. 215-225.
1972
Harrigan, Stephen. “The Dawning o f the Age o f the Armadillo.” R olling Stone. March
30, 1972, p.20.
Rindy, Dean. “Country Karma.” Texas Observer. April 14, 1972, p. 17.
Griffith, Dotty. “First Second Annual ‘Dillo Confab (Or) Victoria Roots for the
Armadillo.” D aily Texan. June 15, 1972. p. 14.
14
Anonymous- “A Musical Community Grows in Austin.” Billboard. August, 19, 1972,

P. T il .
Flippo, Chet. “Uncle Zeke’s Rock Emporium.” R olling Stone. October 12, 1972, p.18.
1973
Parsons, Gram & Emmylou Harris. “Regressive Country.” Radio Interview on WLIR-
FM, Hempstead, NY. March 1973.
Sims, Judith. “Ex-Byrd Solos: Gram Parsons No Longer in a Hurry.” Rolling Stone.
March 1, 1973.
Anonymous. “Parsons Knows.” M elody Maker. April 7, 1973.
Flippo, Chet. “Willie Nelson’s New York Country Sessions.” Rolling Stone. April 12,
1973, p. 14.
Flippo, Chet. “Ride ‘Em, Jewboy: Kinky Friedman’s First Two Premieres. ” Rolling
Stone. May 10, 1973, p. 20.
Bangs, Lester. Review o f Kinky Friedman’s Sold Am erican LP. Rolling Stone. June 21,
1973, pp. 6-10.
Ehler, Jay. “G.P. Sweeps Out the Ashes.” Crawdaddy. July 1973.
Bate, Michael (sic). “Gram Parsons.” Zoo World. July 5, 1973.
Carr, Patrick. ‘"Progressive’in Texas.” New York Times. July 22, 1973, pp. 9, 16.
Anonymous (AP). “Singer Jim Croce And 5 Killed in Crash o f Plane.” Los Angeles
Times. September 22, 1973, part I, p.2.
Anonymous. “Rock Singer’s Manager— Body Theft Suspect Arrested.” Los Angeles
Times. September 27, 1973, part I, p.3, 26.
Hilbum, Robert. “Jim Croce and Gram Parsons— 2 Talents Lost in 1 Week.” Los
Angeles Times. September 22, 1973, part II, p.7.
Shelton, Suzanne. “Armadillo in Toe Shoes.” Texas M onthly. October 1973. pp. 88-92.
Roth, Don & Reid, Jan. “The Coming o f Redneck Hip.” Texas Monthly. November
1973, pp. 71-76.
15
Anonymous. “G.P. A Last Gesture for a Country Gentleman.” Rock. Novem ber 19,
1973.
Flippo, Chet. “Waylon Jennings Gets off the Grind-‘Em-Out Circuit.” R olling Stone.
December 6, 1973, p.28.
Adamson, Dale. “Commander Cody: Live from Austin.” The D aily C ougar N ova.
December 6, 1973, p. 1.
Flippo, Chet. “Country Music: the R & R Influence.” Rolling Stone. December 20,
1973, p. 15.
1974
Ward, Ed. “In Search o f the Cosmic Cowboy.” Unpublished manuscript, 1974.
Reid, Jan. The Improbable R ise o f Redneck Rock. Austin, TX: Heidelberg Publishers,
1974.
Ward, Ed. “Bootleg Blues.” H arper’s M onthly. January 1974.
Gross, Michael. “Something’s Right in Austin.” Zoo World. March 14, 1974, p. 16.
Northland, John. “Right N ow Music Invades Texas.” Cog. April 1974. pp. 73-74.
Flippo, Chet. “Scene or Mirage? Austin: The Hucksters Are Coming.” R olling Stone.
April 11, 1974, p.24.
Ward, Ed. “There’s a Little Bit o f Everything in Texas and a Whole Lot o f Texas in
Commander Cody’s Deep in the Heart o f Texas Album.” Creem. April 1974,
pp. 46-48, 76.
Snyder-Scumpy, Patrick. “Commander Cody Honky Tonks Deep in the H eart o f Texas.”
Crawdaddy. April 1974, pp. 26-27.
Nightbyrd, Jeff (nee Shero). “We Weave Bullet Holes and Knife Cuts.” Crawdaddy.
April 1974, pp.24-26.
Flippo, Chet. Rock Journalism and Rolling Stone. Master o f Arts Thesis, University o f
Texas, Austin, 1974.
Heard, Robert. Interview with Eddie Wilson for Associated Press. June 26, 1974.
16
Anonymous. “Country Parsons.” M elody Maker. July 27, 1974.
Anonymous. “Why Country Music is Suddenly a Big Business.” U.S. News & W orld
Report. July 29, 1974, p. 58.
Peel, Mark, “Opry House— A Young Rival.” Daily Texan. August 9, 1974. p.4C.
Johnson, David w. “Gram Parsons: A Posthumous Reunion.” Zoo World. August 15,
1974.
Anonymous. “Groover’s Paradise.” Time. September 9, 1974.
Patoski, Joe Nick. “Alvin Crow: Gut Country.” Austin Sun. October 17,1974, p. 30.
Brammer, Billy. “Austin’s Musical History Explored.” A ustin Sun. October 17, 1974.
Sullivan, Patrick & Eve Babitz. “GP Mysterious Death and Aftermath.” Rolling Stone.
October 25, 1974.
Young, Art. Interview with Rusty Weir, KRMH-FM, November 8, 1974.
Ivins, Molly. “The University Universe.” New York Times M agazine. November 10,
1974, pp. 36-51.
Friedman, Myra. Buried Alive: The Biography o f Jam s Joplin. N ew York: Bantam
Books, 1974, p.44.
Firminger, John. Gram Parsons: Grievous Angel. Country M usic Review. December
1974.
1975
Wilson, Eddie. H istory o f A rm adillo W orld Headquarters—B y the Numbers.
Unpublished manuscript, 1975.
Edelson, Morris. “The First Annual Armadillo Open Championship.” Austin Sun.
February 5, 1975, p. 25.
Anonymous. “Burrito Deluxe.” M elody Maker. February 8, 1975.
Risher, Dave. “One Million People in Austin.” Austin Sun. February 20, 1975, p.9.
Kelso, Marty. “Emmylou Harris: She Was the Gem Overlooked All Weekend.” Glass
Onion. February 20, 1975, p.7.
17
Shrake, Bud. “The Screwing Up o f Austin.” Texas Sun. February 20, 1975, p.2.
Stonneloud, Scout. “ 13th Floor Elevators: Monkey Island and Back.” A ustin Sun. April
3, 1975, p. 14, 18.
Anonymous. “Cosmic Cowboys: Too Much Cowboy and N ot Enough Cosmic.” Austin
Sun. April 3, 1975, p. 13, 19..
Abbrando, Julie. “Barton Creek May Flow Again.” Austin Sun. April 3, 1975, p. 5.
Anonymous. “Grieving Angel.” M elody Maker. March 22, 1975.
Patoski, Joe Nick. “David Allan Coe: A Few Gems Among the Rhinestones.” Austin
Sun. May 1, 1975, p. 17.
Nightbyrd, Jeff. “Jim Franklin’s Odyssey: From Doo-Dah to Dada.” A ustin Sun. May 29,
1975, pp. 1-2, 19.
Patoski, Joe Nick. “A Decade o f Threadgill.” Austin Sun. June 12, 1975, p.13.
Englander, Joseph. “Hills Arena Buck Out!” (bull riding) Austin Sun. June 27, 1975,
pp.6-7.
Reece, Roy. “Willie’s Third Fourth— Another Grand Picnic.” A ustin Sun. July 1975.
Walsh, Mary. “Armadillo’s Cook: a Real Palate Pleaser.” D aily Texan. August 4,
1975, p.l.
Walsh, Mary. “Austin Music Passing ‘Cowboy Stage.’” Daily Texan. August 8, 1975,
p.l OB.
Jones, Fillmore. “Floorbirds—All They Have to do is Dream.” A ustin D aily Mirror.

August 21, 1975, p. B17.
Wilson, Eddie. “State o f the ‘Dillo Address.” September 15, 1975.
Rutherford, Rick. ‘T ools Breaking Local Limits.” D aily Texan. O ctober 7, 1975, p. 13.
Coats, Frank. “Armadillo Artist Killed in Monday Shooting.” D aily Texan. November
11, 1975, p. 1.
Fisher, Don. “Progressive Country Scene ‘Stagnant.’” Austin People Today. November
1975.
18
Anonymous. “Floorbirds Tear R oof offLongneck Lounge.” Austin D aily M irror,

“Performances.” September 19, 1975, p.C3.
Green, Archie. “Midnight and Other Cowboys.” John Edwards M emorial Foundation.
Autumn 1975, 11:39.
Spitzer, Nicolas R. “’Bob Wills is Still the King’: Romantic Regionalism and
Convergent Culture in Central Texas.” John Edwards M emorial Foundation
Quarterly. 11:40 (Winter 1975), pp. 191 -196.
1976
Thorsen, Karen. “Has Austin Upstaged Nashville?” Oui. January 1976, pp. 77-78,
125-126.
Ward, Ed. “The Longnecks are Coming! The Longnecks are Coming!” Unpublished
manuscript, 1976.
Young, Diane C. “Redneck Rock—Austin’s Newest City Symbol: A Survey o f the

Music and the Print Media.” Research Paper, University o f Texas, Austin, 1976.
Altane, Brock. “The Ramones.” New York R ocker I, no. 1. January 1976, p.4.
Sherrill, Sue. “Balcones Fault 45 Opens Onion Audio.” Daily Texan. January 19, 1976,
p.19.
Anonymous. “Dylan: Thundering in the Dome & Rolling Around Austin.” A ustin Sun
(cover). January 9 - February 11, 1976.
Medlin, Big Boy. “Rolling Thunder Breakdown: From the Temple o f the Sun to the
Astrodome on Two Quarts o f Tequila and Natural Gas.” Austin Sun. January 9 —
February 11, 1976.
Welch, Jane. “Balcones Fault— Cool Fools With N o Rules.” Iconoclast. February 13-
20, 1976.
Hurst, Jack. “The Pickin’s Picking Up in Austin.” Chicago Tribune. March 31, 1976.
Nightbyrd, Jeff (nee Shero). ‘Cosmo Cowboys: Too Much Cowboy and N ot Enough
Cosmic.” A ustin Sun. April 3,1975, pp. 13, 19.
Axthelm, Pete. “Songs o f Outlaw Country.” Newsweek. April 12, 1976, p. 79.
Ward, Ed. Interview with Willie Nelson. Unpublished transcript, 1976.
19
Ellenburg, Mallon. “Willie’s Still the King— ‘Almost Texas’ Tour Leaves Little More
Than Bitter Aftertaste.” Austin American-Statesman, “Editorial.” May 1, 1975.
Anonymous. “Backstage: Joe Ely at the Split Rail.” A ustin Sun. May 28, 1976, p.22.
Anonymous. “Parsons Death Ritual.” M elody M aker. June 5, 1976.
Ward, Robert. “Redneck Rock.” New Times. June 25,1976, pp. 55-62.
Zakaras, Paul. “Austin’s Armadillo Plans a Party, Sets a Radio Show.” Billboard. July
4, 1976, p.37.
Astruchan, Anthony. “Feelin’ Good in Austin.” New Republic. July 17, 1976, p. 11.
King, Larry L. “David Allan Coe’s Greatest Hits.” Esquire. July 1976. p.71.
Ward, Ed. Interview with Joe Gracey. Unpublished transcript, 1976.
Anonymous. “’Dillo in Debt.” Texas M onthly. August 1976, pp. 20-22.
King, Larry L. “The Passions o f the Common Man.” Texas Monthly. August 1976.
pp. 98-100, 123-131.
Reinert, Al. “Bring it All Back Home.” Texas M onthly. August 1976. pp. 102-105.
Pons, Maria. “Franklin Remembers.” D aily Texan, “Images.” August 9, 1976,

pp. 16-17.
Oppel, Pete. “Let’s Hear It for the Armadillo.” D allas M orning News. August 15, 1976.
p.C8.
Oppel, Pete. “The Armadillo: An Old Acquaintance Not to Be Forgot.” Dallas M orning
News. August 15, 1976. p.C8.
Zakaras, Paul. “Armadillo’s Birthday Scores Big in Texas. Billboard. August 28, 1976,
p.36.
Ward, Alex. “Alluring ‘Redneck Rock.’” W ashington Post. September 12, 1976, p.G6.
Rode, Greg. “Floorbirds Pay Stunning Tribute to Ex-Byrd, Gram Parsons.” H ill Country
News. September 19, 1976, p.21, 29.
Harrison, Eric. “Is Progressive Country Dying? Industry Leaders Argue Fate o f Local
Genre.” D aily Texan.. September 21, 1976.
20
Stevens, Betsy. “Armadillo Terminates 42.” D aily Texan. September 24, 1976, p.21.
Anonymous. “’Dillo Still Afloat—Wilson.” D aily Texan. November 4,1976, p. 15.
Owens, Robert. “’Dillo’s Hedderman Resigns.” Daily Texan. November 9, 1976, p. 10.
Brady, Carlyne. “The End o f Live Music? N ot With a Bump But a Hustle.” Austin Sun.
November 12, 1976, p.7.
Hadley, Robert. “Stormy Weather for the Armadillo.” A ustin Sun. November 12, 1976,
p.13.
Wiggins, Ramsey. “Shoot-Out at the Box Office.” Austin Sun. November 12, 1976,
p. 7.
Reid, Jan. “Who Killed Redneck Rock?” Texas M onthly. December 1976.
pp. 102-105.
1977
Endres, Clifford. “Near Truths: Armadillo Rebounds.” A ustin Sun. January 14, 1977,
p.3.
Jefferson, ‘Baby’ Ray. “A Day Late and A Dollar Short—The Floorbirds Finally Hit
Their Stride.” A ustin Daily M irror. January 19, 1977, p.C4.
Anonymous. “Armadillo Club is Bankrupt.” Billboard. January 29, 1977, p.5.
Stribling, Brad. “Armadillo Refinances, To Continue Operating.” Daily Texan.

February 9, 1977, p .l l .
Anonymous. “The N ew Payola.” New York Rocker I, no.6. March 1977, p. 14-15.
Edwards, Bob. “Rockin’ at the Rail.” A ustin Sun. March 18, 1977, p.2.
Scott, Christopher. “Everywhere But Here: Floorbirds Tour Skirts Lone Star State.”
Glass Onion. M arch 29, 1975, p .l 1.
Lehane, Stella. “Hank Pete & Co. Flip ZZ Top and Texas the Bird.” Austin D aily
M irror. April 1, 1975, pp. 29-30, 33.
Ventura, Michael. “Marcia Ball: Portrait o f a Professional.” Austin Sun. May 27, 1977,
p. 12-13, 20.
21
Sahm, Doug. “Adios from Sir Doug.” Texas Sun. August 3, 1977. (Letter dated July 29,
1977)
Park, Tom & Mason, Dave. Interview with Eddie Wilson on KLBJ-FM, Austin. August
14,1977.
Jones, Sally. “Hey Punk!” Austin Sun. December 2, 1977, p.23, 27.
Potts, Diana. “Dog Days at the ‘DilloT” Texas Sun. December 9, 1977, p. 17.
1978
Whittington, Jeff. “Sex Pistols: Rock Anarchy Arrives in San Antonio.” D aily Texan.
January 11, 1978, p.8.
Anonymous. “Austin Goes Punk.” A ustin Sun. January 13, 1978, p.17.
Brady, Carlyne. “Sex Pistols in Austin.” A ustin Sun. January 20,1978, p. 11.
Anonymous. “Looking Like the Other Elvis.” Austin Sun. January 27, 1978, p. 15.
Anonymous. “Austin’s ‘New Wave’: The Violators.” A ustin Sun. January 27, 1978,
p.15.
Flippo, Chet. “Austin Carries On.” R olling Stone. February 23, 1978, p. 60.
Bentley, Bill. “The Vaughans—Mainline Blues.” Austin Sun. April 28, 1978, p.W2.
Hume, Martha. “Delbert McClinton Gets a ‘Second Wind.’” Rolling Stone. May 4,
1978, pp. 20-22.
Moore, John. “The Embattled Rabbit: Will Disco Spoil Eddie Wilson?” A ustin Sun.
May 19, 1978, pp. 8-10.
Ventura, Michael. “Hey Mama—What’s a Punk?” River City Sun. June 30, 1978,
pp. 4-5, 11.
Primosic, Fred. “Stacy is a Punk Rocker.” Amphetamine Voyeur. July 1, 1978, p.5.
Wheeler, Cindy. “Love you, Peggy Suicides.” Hard News. July 13, 1977, p .l.
Bane, Michael. The Outlaws: Revolution in Country M usic. Doubleday, 1978.
22
Bentley, Bill. “Antone’s Faces the Wrecking Ball.” R iver City Sim. August 4, 1978,
pp. 23-24.
Frolik, Joe. “Armadillo Keeps Faith in Austin Music.” Austin American-Staiesman.

August 11, 1978, p.E l.
Shahin, Jim. “Roy Buchanan: Open Wide at the Armadillo.” Rumors, Gossip, Lies &
Dreams. September 7, 1978, p .l.
Wilson, Eddie. “Buchanan, Henderson Cut ‘Dillo Albums.” River C ity Sun. September
15, 1978, pp.1-1.
Black, Louis, and Richard Dorsett. “Jonathan Richman: In Love W ith the Radio On”
Daily Texan, ‘Im ages.” September 18, 1978, p. 24,28.
Brady, Carlyne. “Rock Club Raid Leads to Six Arrests.” Daily Texan. September 20,
1978, p. 1.
Anonymous. “Six Arrested in Punk Rock Show Melee.” Austin American-Statesm an.
September 21, 1978, pp. A l, A12.
Anonymous. “Our Boy in Blue.” D aily Texan. September 21, 1978, p.5.
Anonymous. “Protest o f Raul’s Raid Leads to A rrest on Drag.” D aily Texan. September
21,1978, p .l.
Whittington, Jeff. “The Man Can’t Bust Our M usic.. .But He Sure Can Stop the Show:
A Report on the Rumble at Raul’s.” D aily Texan, “Images.” September 25,
1978, pp. 10-11, 14.
Moore, John. “The Last Sunset.” R iver City Sun. September 29, 1978, p.2.
Whittington, Jeff. “Punk Rock: Sure It’s Noisy but is it Art?” D aily Texan, “Images.”
October 2, 1978, p.24.
Anonymous. “Phil Tolstead Found Guilty, Fined for Disorderly Conduct.” Daily Texan.
October 10, 1978, p .l.
Frolik, Joe. “Huns Can Dish Out Abuse, Take It.” A ustin American-Statesman. October
12, 1978.
Shahin, Jim. “Nouveau Wave and the Search for Acceptance.” Rumors, Gossip, Lies &
Dreams. November 3, 1978.
Weager, K.A. “A Remembrance: D on’t Look Back.” Rumors, Gossip, Lies &
23
Dreams. November 16, 1978, pp.2, 22.
Mulvihill, Patrick. “The Peggy Suicides : Three Girls, Two Chords, One Hell o f a
Show.” H ill Country News. November 18, 1978, p. 5.
Frolik, Joe. “Johnny Winter Unleashes Storm o f Good Music.” Austin American-
Statesman, ‘Timeout.” November 18, 1978, p .l.
Ray, Charles E., Jr. “Winter Returns After 10 Years.” D aily Texan, “Images.”
November 20, 1978, p. 13.
Frolik, Joe. “1400 Honor Disc Jockey Stricken With Cancer.” A ustin American-
Statesman. November 24, 1978, p.C3.
1979
Primosic, Fred. “You Sure Hank Done It This Way?—An Ex-Floorbird Goes Punk.” H ill
Country News. January 8, 1979, p.30.
Frolik, Joe. “Walker Show Tight as a Drum.” Austin American-Statesman. February 5,

1979, p. E3.
Malone, Bill C. Southern M usic / American Music. Lexington, Kentucky: University o f

Kentucky Press, 1979.
Moser, Margaret. “The Battle o f the New Wave Bands: Who Really Won?” Rumors,
Gossip, Lies & Dreams. July 26, 1979, pp. 4-5.
Starr, Kimberly. “Dead Young Cowboys Lead Herd o f Austin Cowpunks.” D aily Texan.
July 29, 1979, p. 28.
Ward, Ed. Interview with Willie Nelson. Unpublished transcript, 1979.
Peltier, Billy. “Austin’s ‘No Fun’ Movement—Johnny Cash Meets Johnny Rotten.”
Austin D aily Mirror. August 20, 1979, p. 5.
1980
Anonymous.“Lost Gonzo Reunion Brings Back Memories.” A ustin American-
Statesman. February 7, 1980, p. E l.
Seloy, Gardner. “Group Against Zoning Change.” D aily Texan. April 9, 1980, p.7.
24
Winder, Cindy. “’Goin’ Home With the Armadillo.” D aily Texan, “Images.” April 28,
1980.
Rallis, Bill. Historic Zoning Application Armadillo World Headquarters. Submitted to

Austin City Council, April 30, 1980.
Green, Archie. “Kerry Aw n’s Soap Creek Saloon Calendars.” John Edwards Memorial
Foundation. Spring 1980, 16:57.
Ward, Ed. Interview with Doug Sahm. Unpublished transcript, 1980.
Jensen, Joli K. Honkytonking: Mass M ediated Culture M ade Personal. Presented at

AEJ Spring 1980 Conference, University o f Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
Patoski, Joe Nick. “Schlock Tactics: Punks and Safety Pins Go Together Like...Well,
Like Adolescent Anger and Rock ‘N ’ Roll.” Texas M onthly. August 1980,
pp. 206-208.
Patoski, Joe Nick. “ The Armadillo’s Last Waltz: Farewell to the Best Music Hall in
Texas.” Texas M onthly. August 1980. pp. 113, 165.
Ward, Ed. “An Armadillo, So Survival-Minded, Succumbs: With It Goes an Era o f

Music, Timeless Paintings, and the Best Nachos This Side o f the Red River.”
Austin American-Statesman. August 26, 1980, p.C5.
Ward, Ed. “Spirit o f the Armadillo: Cornerstone o f the Austin Sound Gets Ready to Go
Out o f Style.” A ustin American-Statesman. August 28, 1980, p. A l, A8.
Anonymous. “Who Was That Masked DJ?” H ill Country News. November 30, 1980,
p.2.
Wilson, Janet. “Lennon’s Killing Stuns World—Austin Mourns Lennon Slaying.”

Austin American-Statesman. December 9, 1980, p. A l, A6.
Anonymous (UP). “John’s Interview Tells About Love for Yoko.” A ustin American-
Statesman. December 9,1980, p. A l.
Anthony, Linda & Scott C.S. Stone. “Lennon Suspect ‘Average’— Ex-Beatle’s Name
Signed to Employment Log.” A ustin American-Statesman. December 10, 1980,
p. A l.
Anonymous. “Dead Young Cowboy Reported Missing— at Least One Finger.” Austin
American-Statesman. Tuesday, December 9, 1980. p. C7
25
Weierman, Karen Woods. “Finger Points to Foul Play.” Los A ngeles Times.
December 9, 1980. A l.
Edelson, Edward. “Shooting a Star—Bull’s Eye Thrown Over Media Heroes, Expert
Says.” Austin American-Statesman. December 10, 1980, p. A12, A13.
Abrams, Richard A. “Lennon Honored in Tearful Vigil.” Austin American-Statesm an,

“City/State.” December 10, 1980, p.B l.
Anonymous (AP). “2 Lennon Fans Commit Suicide— Ono Calls for Vigil, Chapman’s
Wife Mourns Star.” Austin American-Statesman. December 11, 1980, p.A3.
Anonymous. “Dead Young Cowboy Reported Missing.” Austin D aily M irror.

December 11, 1980, p.C8.
Kirkeby, Marc. “Record Industry in Uproar Over Independent Promotion—Labels

Alarmed at Outsiders’ Prices and Tactics.” R olling Stone. December 11, 1980.
Anonymous. “Radiation Level Checked at Three Mile Island.” A ustin Am erican-

Statesman. December 12, 1980, p. A4.
Ward, Ed. “Rock Y our Roller into a Library for Christmas.” A ustin American-Statesman,
“Amusements.” December 12, 1980, p. D4.
Ryell, Zach (photo). “Rudolph the ‘Dillo?” Austin Am erican-Statesm an. December 13,
1980, p.A l.
Box, Terry and Bill Douthat. “Firebombing Symptom o f Neighborhood Dispute.”

Austin American-Statesman. December 13, 1980, p.A l, A6.
Bolger, Kathryn McKenna. “Mural a Record, Artist Says.” Austin American-Statesman.

December 13, 1980, p.A6.
Anonymous. “Fiesta D e Guadalupe To Be Celebrated Sunday.” A ustin American-

Statesman. December 13, 1980, p.D6.
Miller, Townsend. “Lubbock Emigrants Will Say Adios to Armadillo.” A ustin

American-Statesman, “Country Music. ” December 13, 1980, p.29.
Anonymous (staff). “Record Set for Christmas Chill.” A ustin American-Statesm an.
December 26, 1980, p.A2.
Tweedy, Spencer. “Christmas Blaze Leaves Local Record Shop in Cinders.” Austin-
Am ericanStatesm an. Decem ber26, 1980. p . B l .
26
Ripley, Jon. “Hot Wax: Refried Records Gets Cooked Beyond Recognition.” Austin
Daily M irror. December 26, 1980. p .l.
Ward, Ed. “Bootleggers Beware: Big Precedent Set With $2.1 Million Judgement for
Springsteen.” A ustin American-Statesman. December 27, 1980, p. 12.
Ward, Ed. “Music” column. “Ralph the Diving Pig Will Join Joe Ely at Club Foot On
New Year’s Eve.” Austin American-Statesman. December 27, 1980, p.12.
Kelso, John. “Flashback: Atmosphere o f Taco Flats Like Something From 1968.” A ustin
American-Statesman, “John Kelso’s Bar Trail” (column). December 27, 1980,
p.2.
Miller, Townsend. “Doin’s at the ‘Dillo, Special New Year’s Shows, Ernest Tubb
Highlight Coming Week.” A ustin American-Statesman, “Country M usic.”
December 27, 1980, p.24-25.
Stanley, Dick. “In Shabby Dotage, Alamo Hosts Diverse Group—The Alamo Sends a
Neon Beacon into the Night From Sixth and Guadalupe.” Austin American-
Statesman. December 28, 1980, p. A l, A5.
Brud, David. “Mysterious Rhinestone DJ Keeps Listeners Tuned to KOOK-FM.” A ustin

Daily M irror. December 28, 1980, p.3.
Garcia, Guillermo. “1980: Hurricanes, Brilab, and M ore— State Weather Turbulent
Year.” Austin American-Statesman, “Insight. ” December 28, 1980, p. D l, D5.”
Davis, John T. “Hancock, Ely Follow Footsteps—Lubbock Finds Itself All Over ‘Dillo’s
Stage.” A ustin American-Statesman. December 29, 1980, p.B6.
Ward, Ed. “’Dillo S taff Running Out o f Miracles.” A ustin American-Statesman.

December 29, 1980
Rinehart, Carolyn. “Diehard ‘Dillo Fans Wait Faithfully to See the End.” Austin
American-Statesman. December 30, 1980, p .B l, B5.
Ward, Ed. “Gary P. Nunn Brought It All Back Home With Jerry Jeff.” Austin American-
Statesman. December 30, 1980, p. C6.
Lotz, Theo. “Anonymous DJ—‘Mask Comes Off At Midnight.’” Austin D aily Mirror.
December 31, 1980, p. CIO.
Abrams, Richard A. “Nation Waits for Armadillo to Go Down Singing.” Austin

American-Statesman. December 31, 1980, p. B l.
27
Anthony, Linda. “Holiday Hangover Blues: Hang On, Here Comes...Relief...Often

Spelled A-L-C-O-H-O-L.” Austin American-Statesman. December 31, 1980, p.
C l.
1981
Ward, Ed. “Thanks for the Memories—Full House, Stars Bid farewell to the Armadillo.”
Austin American-Statesman. January 2, 1981, p.A l, A l l .
Lotz, Theo. “Dead Young Cowboy Returns.” Austin Daily M irror. January 2, 1981, p.
C2.
Primosic, Fred. “Punk Rocker’s Pseudocide Stunt Leaves Remaining Fans Cold.” H ill
Country News. January 2,1981, p.C4.
Vlerebome, Peggy & Ed Ward. “No More Leftovers— ‘Dillo Passes Loudly Into
Memory.” A ustin American-Statesman. January 2, 1981, p.A l, A13.
Tyson, Kim. “Going Down With th e ‘Dillo.” Austin American-Statesman. January 16,
1981, p.B l.
Whittington, Jeflf. “Goodbye to the Armadillo.” D aily Texan, “Images.” January 19,
1981, pp. 13, 18.
Green, Archie. “Austin’s Cosmic Cowboys,” in Richard Bauman and Roger Abrahams,
eds. A nd O ther Neighborly Names: Social Process and Cultural Image in Texas
Folklore. Austin: University o f Texas Press, 1981.
Whittington, Jeff. “An Idea Whose Time Has Gone.” D aily Texan, “Images.” April 6,
1981, pp. 23.
Northcott, Kaye. “The Life & Death o f the Cosmic Cowboy.” M other Jones. June
1981, pp. 14-21,48.
Kelso, Marty. A lm ost Texas. Tu Madre Books & Records, 1981.
AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF COSMIC AMERICAN MUSIC
— A —
A c e t a t e - The purpose o f an acetate (or reference acetate) is to hear how recorded
material sounds on disc, and to save time and money. Before committing a recording to
vinyl, the record company will send a reference acetate (or r e f dub) to the artist and/or
producer for approval. This is an exact copy o f the lacquer, and will sound and perform
just like the finished LP in every way except that, since it’s cut into the actual lacquer
material, and because the acetate is quite soft, it can only be played a few times before it
starts to deteriorate. (This may help to explain why so many o f the stolen acetates which
turn up as bootlegs have lots o f annoying surface pops and crackles.)
Eventually, an acetate o f the final “mix” is used to create the metal discs (also
called masters or mothers) which are used to create the stampers which are used to press
the actual vinyl LPs.
see also WBCN G ET B A C K R EFER EN C E ACETATE.
Adams, Henry — Henry Adams once wrote a letter to Henry James, advising him to
commit the “suicide” o f autobiography rather than suffer the “homicide” o f biography.
Adams had recently committed his own such suicide in The Education o f Henry Adams.
30
“A mere shield o f protection in the grave,” he called it, emphasizing the potential
violence o f the written word, and the potential vulnerability o f the written subject.
In the fall o f 1980, Carl Stoldtman offered similar advice to the disconsolate
Henry Peterson (aka Hank Pete), whose underground celebrity in Austin during the late
seventies had been on the verge o f going national and then gone bust instead. There was
one little problem with this advice, however. Henry was not much o f a prose stylist. A
songwriter, yes. And he was not illiterate by any means. He could type a little, had
written the odd record review or liner note or letter to the editor. But his ow n
autobiography? That was unlikely. Which led Stoldtman to suggest a ghostwriter—and
who better than Hank’s old friend Marty Kelso?
“That would be murder,” Hank said.
“Or suicide,” Stoldtman replied,
see also Henry James, Pseudocide.
Aldrich, Hank —The man who saved the Armadillo World Headquarters—the first
time. Associated with the ‘Dillo for years, Aldrich helped build Onion Audio inside the
concert hall.
See Onion Audio.
ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS DREAM (version #2) -
Written, presumably, by Bob Dylan, w/ The Band and recorded at “Big Pink” during the
famous Basement Tapes sessions o f 1967— although this song, like many o f the tracks
31
from those sessions—has never been officially released. In the early seventies, Marty
Kelso got his hands on several o f the “Garth Hudson Archive” tapes, and though he kept
them close to his chest (he would not release them to the general public— in bootleg
form—until the 80’s), he did pass along a copy to Hank Pete, who immediately fell in
love with this particular song, which appears twice during the “complete” o r “genuine”
Basement Tapes sessions. Hank liked the song SO much, in feet, that he decided to
name his new band after the crazy old “floorbirds” who are mentioned numerous times
during the course o f the lyrics:
I f the fanner has no silo

And his feel cost runs him up very high
Well that's just how much I would love you
I f you'd just only let me try
Yes, some nice young up to date kitchen

Let us get acquainted, dear
And them old floorbirds would just quit eating
And just grin from ear to ear!
Two floorbirds and a broodin’ baby chick —

Yes, that ain’t much to bust
But restriction causes damage
And damage causes lust
Some poor little girl come blow this horn

Hard as any horn might seem
It’s very easily done, actually
All you have to do is dream!
Well—those old hogback scrappers are a dime a dozen

And I can get a com for a nickel
But look what an earful I get and it’s awful too
Every time I try to go get a little tickle
Give me just one sweet loaf o f bread

Fill it up and I’ll be gone
Just like some old floorbird
Who just flies from dawn to dawn
32
Yes, who just flies from dawn to dawn!

(Look at that old floorbird!)
He just flies from dawn to dawn!
(Dig that crazy floorbird!)
He just flies from dawn to dawn!
(Well, the floorbird)
He just flies from dawn to dawn!1
Hank Pete: It was a funky little tune. Very goddamn funky. Had a little bit o f a
Motown R&B feel to it, but it was rough around the edges, you know? In that
choppy, groovy, dirty style that The Band pulled o ff so well... Robbie
Robertson’s guitar is just wonderful here—especially on version #2, and Garth
Hudson’s organ is trilling and swirling all around as usual...R ick Danko’s bass is
as bouncy and on the beat as ever... I’m not sure if th at’s Levon Helm or Richard
Manuel on the drum kit. Depends when exactly this was recorded— it’s probably
Richard, since Levon wasn’t there for most o f the Basement Tapes sessions.
Although this sounds like it could have been toward the end, when Levon was
around.
So who are the Floorbirds? It’s funny, you know, because we all talked
about this— a lot—and we couldn’t come up with a definitive answer—but
fortunately, you know, we didn’t have to! It was m ore about the different images
the song made you conjure up at certain times. So at one point, you know, on one
level, the floorbirds are maybe literally these scrappy little birds— crows, maybe. I
don’t know. I see ‘em as kinda dirt poor, country folk— whatever kind o f bird
that’d be. But I also used to get this image o f the floor in floorbird—as—well,
1- According to Clinton Heylin’s Bob Dylan: The Man Behind the Shades Revisited (2001), “AH You Have
to Do is Dream” is an uncopyrighted song.
33
sometimes, in that first image, it w as like, the floor o f a shotgun shack. A bare
and dusty floor. Maybe even savvdusty. But in another way, you know, I would
picture a dancefloor—maybe there’s some sawdust there as well—and the
floorbirds are like these two-steppers or something.. .they’re at home on the dance
floor, right? They OWN that floor! So it that way, you know, it really got me
thinking about Texas dancehall culture— though obviously that wasn’t what
Dylan was thinking about. Hell, I don’t know.
And then there’s the idea o f that crazy old floorbird flying from dawn to
dawn. I think we all felt the same way about that one. That was probably the
thing that made us all say, YES, MAN! That’s us, that’s what it’s like—with the
partying and the drinking and one lousy motel room after another—being on the
road all the time— that’s gotta be the name o f our band!
We covered that song, I think, at just about every show we ever played.
And it was all right, you know? W e had our own way o f doing it— a little less
funky and a little more country. But it wasn’t—well, obviously it just wasn’t
Dylan and The Band! I wish! But nobody has ever, or will ever, in my opinion,
reproduce that Basement Tapes sound. Not even Bob Dylan and The Band!
See also The Floorbirds, The Basement Tapes, Bootleg Recording, Authenticity.
Almost Texas - Originally, a poem written by Marty Kelso about his teenage object
o f desire, Weslea Stevens, for Professor Leo Joseph’s Intro to Imaginative Writing class
at the University o f Texas at Austin, September 17, 1974:
34
ALMOST TEXAS
Because we were sixteen

and in love
with thirty-eight dollars in a joint
bank account, most of it tips

from her job
at HoJo's, we planned our escape
from the Gold Coast to Colorado

via Texas
where we'd been promised
by an old rounder we knew

connections
like weed, red-cap mushrooms and work
in Gouldbusk or Nacogdoches or Lubbock;

It didn't matter
where, only when and why and how come
she and I hadn't slept together yet

considering how close
we were and yet we couldn't
wouldn't ever sleep

in Texas
only once in a friend's basement
my hand wedged into her jeans

still buttoned
and she with more experience
barely able to undo herself

for a friend
so slowly, gradually, we fought
and the account dwindled

under weight
of monthly service charges.
Even once it was empty

I continued
to receive the statements
35
our names in black type together

on paper
as real as the map of Texas under my bed.
M arty Kelso later wrote an (auto)biography, also titled A lm ost Texas (self-published, Tu
M adre Books & Records, 1981), chronicling both his own life and the life o f his more
infamous counterpart, Hank Pete (aka Henry Peterson).
See also: Chiasmic Structure in Almost Texas; Marty Kelso; Weslea Stevens; Leo
Joseph, Ph.D.
A lm o st TeXtlS T our —see Worldwide Texas Tour.
Alphabetizing —For many, this practice is synonymous with “anal retentive.” But
there are many practical reasons for and results o f alphabetizing one’s record collection,
one’s archive. Quick access, for example. If one is dealing with hundreds or thousands
o f titles, it would be simply ridiculous NOT to keep them in some kind o f order. H ow
else would you ever FIND anything? (In order to facilitate practical use o f the archive
with regard to historical study, it is also desireable to keep the titles o f each artist in
chronological order). There is also a certain democracy to alphabetization. It removes
biases from the question o f who’s beside who on the shelf or in the bin. Some collectors
may keep “special” sections for favorite artists or genres, and these may sometimes be
kept ana-alphabetically, or perhaps even separately from the alphabetical archive proper.
36
Or else— and this is heresy to some—one might choose to filed Rick Danko solo
recordings, for example, or Robbie Robertson recordings, under “B” for “The Band,”
rather than under “D” and “R” respectively. To each archon his own.
M arty Kelso: I remember this girl—what w as her name?—who worked with me
as an intern at KOOK. This was around 1974, 1975. She was from Juarez, I
think. Spoke English pretty well, for the m ost part. But, ah, the PD fired her one
day, after he discovered that she had started “reorganizing” the station’s Record
Library alphabetically by the artist’s FIRST name! So, you know, Johnny Cash
was filed under “J” and Bob Dylan was under “B.” None o f the jocks really
cared. And they almost boycotted the station when they found out how this poor
chick —I mean, one strike and yo u ’re out? Come on!
Stacy W algreen: All I can say is, try placing one fucking album out o f
chronological or alphabetical order when you’re over at M arty’s house. Or better
yet, try borrowing an album from Marty. O r pulling an album o ff the shelf.
see also Archive.
Alta mo lit - a notorious free concert given by the Rolling Stones on December 6,
1969, at the Altamont Raceway in Livermore, California. Special guests included
Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, The Flying Burrito Brothers, and Crosby, Stills,
Nash & Young. Intended to be the West Coast’s answer to Woodstock, the event turned
37
into the exact opposite and came instead to symbolize the end, more or less, o f the
Woodstock Nation (and, in any case, the end o f the sixties). Much o f the concert (and its
scenes o f violence and confusion) was captured by documentary film-makers, the Mayles
brothers, and released commercially as Gimme Shelter. For Henry Peterson and Marty
Kelso, that’s all it took in December o f 1970: two and a half minutes o f not-so-amazing
documentary film footage, the Flying Burrito Brothers, shot from behind, singing “Six
Days On the Road.” The Stones at the Altamont Speedway in Livermore, California, the
miles o f jammed traffic, the California sun, the zonked-out masses, Jagger delaying for
nightfall. They’d read tons about it, o f course, the hummer trip and all. Hells Angels
hired as security guards, w ith their lead-filled pool cues and gallon-jugs o f vodka. Using
their Harleys to part a sea o f half a million [?] hippies. H ow this guy got stabbed,
maybe because he had a gun, maybe aimed it at Mick. N obody seemed too sure about
the details, except that the guy was dead. Definitely, he w as dead. The Stones were
playing “Sympathy for the Devil.” Or maybe it was “Under My Thumb.” But
“Sympathy” had to have been some kind o f factor, right? Mick had said it himself from
the stage: something “funny” happened every time they started that number.
They’d been rivoted by all that, the mystery and the horror, everything captured
on film and ready to be examined, Zapruder-like, rewound, re-played, made all the more
believable, and yet unbelievable, because w e’d rarely seen anything like it— in their
lives. Only that wasn’t w hat Henry and M arty were talking about as they left the cinema
that humid Miami evening in November.
“Who were those cats with their backs to the camera?” Henry wanted to know.
“Man, they could play. Couldn’t they?”
38
The boys didn’t sit through credits in those days, but it wasn’t long before a write
up in Rolling Stone or Crawdaddy gave them the scoop. Gram Parsons was their mystery
man.
see also Hell’s Angels, Not Quite a Nudie.
Anonymity —There are very few people who groove on anonymity. Mick Jagger
said that. Well, sure he did. But perhaps The Cosmic American was one o f the few,
despite a lifelong attraction to celebrity. O r because o f it. Because by January 31, 1980
he had become, after all, in his own way, kind o f famous. Famous for being anonymous.
Since the beginning o f December, people had been listening to him, on the lower
frequencies of their FM dials. They felt they knew him, though they didn’t know his
name o r his face. They knew him only as The Cosmic American, on KOOK-FM, “your
one and only Regressive Country music station.”
His anonymity, o f course, w as guaranteed by the very medium o f radio. For it is
a blind medium. His celebrity, on the other hand, was a matter o f another medium: the
listener’s own imagination. He was a clean slate, a blank screen, and they, the audience,
were his projector. He might supply the words, the sounds, but they supplied the image,
see also Celebrity, Pseudonymity, Ideal Hero
Aiitone’s -
(141 East 6th Street, Austin, TX)
39
Owned and operated by Clifford Antone himself this club was one o f the catalysts for the
Austin Blues “boom” in the mid-seventies, which coincided with the declining popularity
o f the Progressive Country Movement. Antone’s opened on July 15, 1975 with five
straight nights o f Clifton Chenier, and since that time has hosted countless blues legends
and up & comers alike. A young Stevie Ray Vaughan played here with Paul Ray and the
Cobras, one of Antone’s “house bands” during the early days. Stevie’s brother Jimmie
and the Fabulous Thunderbirds were regulars at Antone’s as well.
ARB (Arbitron Ratings Book) - see Radio Consultants, PDs
A r c h i v e - (Latin archivum or archium) —see L e M a i d ’ Archive
Archival Desire - Music collecting is a form o f addiction. Ladies, don’t let your
men tell you otherwise. It is a perversely internalized form o f the hunt, and would appear
to be very male in that regard. There are women collectors out there, o f course, and
these archivists, like their male counterparts, manifest this peculiar form sublimated
sexual desire. Collection is a form o f possession. Subsequently, if bootleggers are the
archivists of a SECRET history, then their desire is a secret desire.
By the mid-70’s (if not earlier) Marty Kelso’s archival desire had become somewhat
dysfunctional. He needed to get out m ore.. .to get real. At least that w as the opinion o f
every woman he’d ever dated—with the exception o f Weslea Stevens.
40
Armadillo - ( “little armored one ”) a burrowing, chiefly nocturnal mammal,
belonging to the Dasypodidae family and the Edentata order, found in warm parts o f the
Americas, including Texas, Oklahoma, Florida, Louisiana, and Mexico. Looking like a
cross between a rat and a tortoise, ‘Dillos have long, sharp claws,and don’t see o r hear
very well. When frightened or attacked, they can curl up into a little armored ball.
Armadillo Racing - see First Annual Armadillo Open Championship
Armadillo World Headquarters (aka AWHQ, The Armadillo,
the ‘Dillo) — 525 J/z Barton Springs Road, Austin, TX
Located just south o f the Downtown Austin business district and the Colorado River, the
Armadillo World Headquarters was originally a National Guard Armory, though it was
also used as a skating rink at one time. For most intents and purposes a hippie concert
hall, the ‘Dillo was opened in 1970 by Eddie Wilson, Mike Tolleson, and Jim Franklin,
who were looking to recapture the kind o f “cosmic” environment that had been lost
along with the closing o f the Vulcan Gas Company in 1970. Tolleson had visions o f the
Armadillo becoming an C ommunity Arts Laboratory (they did have ballet night, for
example, and an annual Christmas bazaar), but by and large ‘Dillo was a concert hall.
The AWHQ didn’t really take off until 1972, when Willie Nelson moved his base o f
operations from Nashville to Austin and decided that he liked the venue. Another famous
sponsor of the Armadillo was Texas blues giant Freddie King, whose likeness was
41
eventually painted quite prominently on one o f the hall’s interior walls (a guitar in his
hands and armadillo exploding from his chest!). The place could hold at least two-
thousand people, comfortably, and a lot more uncomfortably. There were usually very
few if any chairs on the main floor. In the early days, freaks and rednecks alike would
simply plant themselves on the beer-stained patchwork o f carpet remnants and listen
cheerfully. There was a bar on either side o f the hall and a raised area in the back with
tables and chairs. A beer garden and a kitchen were constructed in 1972 by a crew o f
hippies whom Eddie Wilson paid ten dollars a day, plus free beer and marijuana. Pot-
smoking, either first o r second hand, was pretty much unavoidable at the ‘Dillo.
The AWHQ closed on December 31, 1980, despite substantial community efforts to
persuade the landowner not to sell the property to hotel developers.
Armadillo X-Mas Bazaar —see Rudolph the Red-Nosed ‘Dillo
Armadillo Kitchen, the —see Van Morrison, Rikke the Guacamole Queen.
Artificiality - see Authenticity, Ersatz
Asleep at the Wheel-

Ray Benson (guitar/vocals); Leroy Preston (drums, guitar); Lucky Oceans (pedal steel
guitar); (too m any other personnel changes to list).
42
Framed -1 9 8 0
Served Live -1 9 7 9
Collision Course - 1978
The Wheel - 1977
Wheelin' A nd D ealin' -1976
Texas Gold (Capitol), 1975
Asleep A t The Wheel - 1974
Cornin'Right A t Ya - 1973
After a brief stint in San Francisco, these “Easterners” became Austin regulars in 1974,
and, along with the likes o f Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen, helped to
popularize a somewhat “Cosmic American” spin on the traditional Western Swing o f
Bob Wills & the Texas Playboys. Notable albums include Comin ’ R ight at Ya (1973),
Asleep at the Wheel (1974), and Texas G old (1975). For an aural history o f Western
Swing in Texas, see Roy Newman & His Boys, The Light Crust Doughboys, Milton
Brown & His Brownies, C liff Bruner’s Texas Wanderers, The Crystal Springs
Ramblers, The Blue Ridge Playboys, The Saddle Tramps, Ernest Tubb, Ted
Daffan’s Texans, A1 Dexter & His Troopers, Harry Choates & His Fiddle, Left
Frizzell, Floyd Tillman, H ank Thompson & His Brazos Valley Boys, Johnny
Gimble, Alvin Crow & The Pleasant Valley Boys.
Asterisk, T he-
asterisk: 1.) a little star; 2.) anything shaped or radiating like a star; 3.) the figure o f a
star (*) used in writing and printing as a.) a reference to a note at the foot o f the margin
b.) the indicate the omission o f words or letters c.) to distinguish words or phrases as
conjectural, obscure, or beating some other specific character.
- The Compact O xford English Dictionary, Vol. I, A-O, p. 130
43
W h a t All C o u n try Music L o v ers H av e in C om m on
VC009C-
Stoldtman liked Marty Kelso. He’d always liked him — ever since that night in
front o f the urinal at the Armadillo World Headquarters. This w as back in 1978, when
Marty was still humping it as an intern at the station. Butch Hancock and Kinky
Friedman were playing at the ‘Dillo, and the whole gang from KOOK had gone to check
it out.
Marty was known to have a weak bladder anyway, but this had been a night o f
serious beer swilling. He was drunk and he was disorderly and he was pissing like a
racehorse. On the wall in front o f him was a hilarious bit of graffiti where somebody had
scrawled I FUCKED YOUR MOTHER in fat black magic marker and somebody else
had written beneath it: GO HOME DAD, YOU’RE DRUNK! T hat just tickled Marty to
death. He started looking around for some more good laughs, but the rest o f the graffiti
was pretty dumb. Moronic, actually. There were a bunch o f handbills plastered to the
wall. Ads for bands and clubs and VD clinics. Within arm’s reach was a bumper sticker
44
for KOKE FM, probably the most popular station in Austin after KLBJ, and KOOK’s
fiercest competitor in the Progressive Country market. He’d seen all the full-page ads
they’d been running lately in the Austin Sun. There were bunch o f different ones, all
part o f the same campaign, depicting all different “listeners” from all different walks o f
life. One ad would show a picture o f some dorky guy in a white leisure suit, standing in
front o f a Cadillac. Another would show this foxy chick riding a bicycle. A cowboy, a
grandmother, a teenager, a hippie. The only thing these ads had in common was KOKE’s
new slogan: “WHAT ALL COUNTRY MUSIC LOVERS HAVE IN COMMON.”
They were pretty clever, Marty had to admit it. But here’s what he came up with, on the
spot, as he stood there in men’s room o f the Armadillo World Headquarters. On the wall
beside the bumper sticker, he made a crude drawing o f a sphinctor— an oversized
asterisk, you might call it. Then he drew an arrow, leading from the words “WHAT ALL
COUNTRY MUSIC LOVERS HAVE IN COMMON” to the sphinctor. It wasn’t even
Marty’s idea really; he’d stolen it from Kurt Vonnegut, whose novel Breakfast o f
Champions he’d cracked recently. Marty was just adding the finishing touches to his
asterisk, when Carl Stoldtman occupied the urinal beside him. Tonight was the boss’s
token night out with the plebians, and he was ripped to the gills like the rest o f them. It
took him a minute, but once he’d figured out M arty’s little rebus, he laughed so hard he
left a puddle on the linoleum. He called Marty into his office the next morning.
Stoldtman wanted to borrow that little asterisk o f his. Within a couple o f days there were
billboard-sized versions o f Marty’s graffiti all over the city. They didn’t last long, o f
course. KOKE threatened to sue the station, for both libel and trademark infringement,
and the billboards had to come down. But Stoldtman wasn’t bothered. The lawsuit gave
45
him all the press he needed. And the next thing M arty knew, he had himself a full-time
job in PR.
see also KOKE, KOOK, Carl Stoldtman, Marty Kelso
Austin Mascots -
The Cosmic American: The goat-roper was pretty much considered the lowest o f the
rural rednecks. At the time, there was a lot o f contention in Austin between the symbols.
The hippies were all into the armadillo... that could, you know, cross the road and wreck
a car...and the car would get squashed... the car would be crushed...versus the other big
symbol o f Austin culture which was BEVO, the longhomed steer, who symbolized Texas
ranching and agriculture, and was the UT football symbol. OF BEVO first made his
appearance back in 1916 or 1918,1 can’t remember which, when the Longhorns beat the
piss out o f Texas A & M. Except it didn’t take long for the Aggies to get their revenge.
They snuck up sometime during the night and branded the numbers 13-0 on that steer’s
ass—thirteen-to-nothing being the score o f the previous year’s contest, in which the
Aggies had emerged victorious. Supposedly, the name “BEVO” comes from that 13-0
branding, some UT students having turned the “13” into a “B” and the hyphen into an
“E.” Then they inserted the “V”—which is the shaky part o f the story, so far as I ’m
concerned— and the nickname stuck. That’s the local legend, at any rate. So, basically,
BEVO was the yahoo, hook ‘em horns, a sort o f redneck symbol o f the kind o f students
who were proud to be old style Texan types... versus the ARMADILLO, which was the
hippie, pacifist, oddball symbol. And KOKE FM, and a little later KOOK F M ... those
46
radio stations realty invested themselves in a bit o f both. Whether it was hippies or
rednecks hollaring when Willie was at the Armadillo, it didn’t really matter. Just as long
as everybody was hollaring.
Authenticity -
The quality or condition o f being authentic, trustworthy, or genuine; undisputed
credibility.
The quality o f being authentic or o f established authority for truth and

correctness.
-W ebster’s Revised Unabridged D ictionary
In his book Dissonant Identities. Barry Shank argues that a “transformation o f the
economic base has altered the conditions within which rock and roll is produced and has
also placed constraints on the identities that can be performed” (16). During the late
sixties and early seventies, the popular sentiment o f the day was one o f anti-
commercialism, at least so far as the counterculture was concerned. Case in point with
The Monkees. By 1968, they were most famous for being an ersatz pop group, a
manufactured image, a bunch o f lip-syncing phonies. They’d admitted as much
themselves, back in 1967, when Davey Jones told The N ew York Times that the
Monkees were advertisers selling a product; they were “selling Monkees.” By the time
they produced the film Head—which, as it turned out was a brilliant, self-reflexive satire,
and a heavy psychedelic head-trip to boot—nobody even noticed. It didn’t m atter that
47
the band had started playing their own instruments and writing their ow n songs, it w as
simply too late. No self-respecting rock fan w ould have anything to do with them.
At the other end o f the spectrum was Bob Dylan. After making a very high
profile show o f “going electric” in 1966 and alienating folk-purists worldwide, he
retreated to the country up in W est Saugerties N Y , where he alienated the entire
W oodstock nation by writing neither the protest songs they had clung to so fervently, nor
the rock and roll songs they had finally accepted. W hat he wrote instead were reels and
reels o f darkly humorous ballads depicting rural Americana and delving into nearly every
form o f North American roots music. These songs would eventually surface as the
Basement Tapes, although Dylan’s record com pany would not release any o f this m aterial
officially until 1975— eight years after it had been recorded. W hat Dylan did release
once he decided to surface from his self-imposed exile were two very “sincere” albums:
John Wesley Harding and N ashville Skyline. The former, he claimed, was the w orld’s
first “biblical rock album.” The latter, despite the fact that it was poorly received at the
tim e, was one o f the first “country-rock” albums (although Gram Parsons had beaten
Dylan to the punch with the International Submarine Band’s Safe a t Home in 1967, the
Byrds’ Sweetheart o f the Rodeo in 1968, and the Flying Burrito B rothers’ G ilded Palace
o f Sin in 1969—three albums which might also be seen as very “sincere”). Sincerity,
then, at least within the context o f this discussion, refers to that which is perceived as
“authentic” or “genuine,” as opposed to that w hich is “ersatz,” “artificial,” or “spurious.”
Such a conceptual opposition is particularly relevant to a study o f Austin, Texas during
the seventies, for as Shank notes, this trend o f anti-commercialism and sincerity, this
48
aesthetic o f authenticity, “reached its zenith a t precisely the point when the Texas
economy achieved national recognition...during the oil crisis o f th e 70’s”(16).
For a short time, at least, between, say, 1972 and 1974 o r 1975, Austinites were
really grooving on authenticity, and Austin had become, for better and for w orse, what
singer-songwriter Doug Sahm dubbed a “G roover’s Paradise.” B etter because it was a
kind o f hippie paradise on earth. W orse because, before long, it w ould be w ritten up and
commodified in the pages o f Time magazine. But, this “ideal” convergence o f hippies
and rednecks couldn’t last:
Heidegger holds that there is no pregiven human essence. Instead, humans, as

self-interpreting beings, ju st are what they make o f them selves in the course o f
their active lives. Thus, as everyday agency, Dasein is n o t an object w ith
properties, but is rather the “happening” o f a life course “stretched out betw een
birth and death.” U nderstood as the “historicity” o f a tem poral movement or
“becoming,” Dasein is found to have threee main “existentiells” or basic
structures shared by every “existential” (i.e., specific and local) way o f living—
Dasein is future-directed in the sense that the ongoing fulfillment o f possibilities
in the course o f one’s active life constitutes one’s identity (o r being). T o say that
Dasein is “being-toward-death” is to say the stands we take (our “understanding”)
define our being as a totality. (Cambridge Dictionary o f Philosophy 318).
The embeddedness o f o u r existence in a cultural context explains our inveterate

tendency tow ard inauthenticity. As w e become initiated into the practices o f our
community, we are inclined to drift along w ith the crow d, doing what “one” does,
enacting stereotyped roles, and thereby losing our ability to seize on and define
our own lives. Such falling into public preoccupations Heidegger sees as a sign
that we are fleeing from the feet that w e are finite beings who stand before death
(understood as the culmination o f our possibilities). W hen, through anxiety and
hearing the call o f conscience, we fece up to our being-toward-death, o ur lives
can be transform ed. To be authentic is to clear-sightedly fece up to o ne’s
responsibility for w hat one’s life is adding up to as a whole. And because our
lives are inseparable from our community’s existence, authenticity involves
seizing on the possibilities circulating in our shared “heritage” in order to realize a
communal “destiny” (Cambridge D ictionary o f Philosophy 319).
In Austin, this meant that, before long, the average groover w as confronted by a
“meaningful split between the progressive aspects o f youth culture and the ‘surface traits’
49
o f country and western ‘fashion’” (Shank 68). By 1976, many were suspicious that the
entire trend had actually been concocted by the media. And to a certain extent it had.
According to Carl Stoldtman:
Authenticity, though it goes in and out o f vogue, is a very marketable commodity.

It was huge in Austin at the outset o f the Progressive Country Movement, and
those o f us who recognized it early on made a killing. But it had pretty much
played itself out by ’76 o r ‘77. There wasn’t a aspiring young musician in the
State at that point who’d have wanted to be a Cosmic Cowboy. And then again,
authenticity meant something completely different in 1978— it meant The
Dictators and the Ramones and the Sex Pistols. Malcom McLaren certainty saw
that one coming, and he took it to the bank. We took our share o f that as well,
while we could, but it wasn’t anywhere as big here in Austin. N ot in comparison
to the Progressive Country thing.
Others argued that it wasn’t a “failure o f the original synthesis, but was more a result o f
the distortion that follows from the packaging and prom otion efforts that constitute mass-
marketing strategies” (Shank 70).
Marty Kelso represented yet another view on the subject,
see Ideal Hero, Anonymity, Pseudonymity, Genuine, Spurious, Counterfeit, Bootleg
B
Backseat Lounge, The -
I - BACKSEAT I
17
L0IVN8E
m — — r. w r o
Happy Hour 4-8PM everyday!

28 cent drafts 2-for-l mixed drinks
TWa week:
T heB nddeC haieni >8/16
Kandy &The K ick ers-8/17
Slew Moving Drains - 8/18
Up to now it’d been a typical night at the Backseat Lounge. The club was h alf full o f
drunks and hippies, and half empty. This was 1973, and this was almost inside the L.A.
City limits, but h was not the W hiskey or the Pal, and it was not the Troubadour o r the
Cheetah. It wasn’t even Club Lingerie. Hank wished it were Club Lingerie. H e wished
it were anyplace closer to Sunset Boulevard or Venice Beach, anyplace closer to being
51
hip. He wished he could leave the stage right now, pu t some kind o f an edge on his buzz,
which had pretty much disintegrated to mush. Time to end the first set, he thought. Tim e
for a line or two. D ucky finished his solo and H ank stepped back to the microphone for
the final verse o f “Willin.” Five or six people applauded. Somebody whistled.
Everyone else continued to talk. Jimmy Peltier tucked his drumsticks under one arm and
leaned over his floor tom . He looked at Hank. “W hy don’t they fucking shut up?” he
said.
Hank shook his head. “Break?” he said.
“One more,” said Ducky. “Five Believers.”
“Why bother?” Hank asked. He took a new cigarette from the pack on top o f his
amplifier.
“Just play, man, and don’t w orry about it.”
“Yeah, man. L et’s just play.”
“One more,” said Hank. “And I ’m taking a break.”
The Slow Moving D rains launched into their version o f Dylan’s “Obviously 5 Believers,”
taking the bard’s uptem po blues and tw isting them into a half-speed country shuffle. A
couple o f heavily dosed girls began twirling on the dancefloor, moving to a tempo all
their own. Hank was still pissed, and the band w as tight. When Ducky came in on
harmony, they sounded like the Everly Brothers on acid. The Beach Boys on country. A
couple o f rednecks slipped onto the dancefloor and joined the girls. They tried to pick up
on them, tried to get them to two-step. The girls didn’t know how to two-step. They
tried for a minute, giggled, stumbled, giggled, stum bled, twirled. Then they just twirled.
The rednecks tried it for a minute. But they were no good at it. They didn’t get it. They
52
were drunk, but they w ere not stoned or tripping. They ju st couldn’t twirl. They liked
the girls, but not that much. The girls didn’t mind. They smiled. They twirled. They
kept smiling.
The song was about to end, but Hank w as in a groove now. He wasn’t ready to
break anymore. He looked over at Ducky, lips pursed, smiling. He nodded, flipped his
longish hair over one shoulder. Ducky knew w hat to do. He nodded back. Which one?
Another o ff Blonde on Blonde? Ducky knew it’d be something o ff that album. The
Slow Moving Drains didn’t have a lot o f their ow n songs yet. But they’d studied Dylan
to death. They’d studied the Burritos to death. They just loved the combination, even
though the Burritos them selves were bom out o f a desire to do something other than write
their own Dylan songs. That was okay, though. The Burritos never covered anything off
o f Blonde on Blonde. Hank slid into the key o f G and strum med a few chords.
“Temporary Like Achilles.” Ducky followed, missing only a beat or two.
For the Drains, this song was less o f a stretch o f the musical imagination, but it
worked beautifully ju st the same. It was slower, even, than the last number, but the lyrics
were passionate and biting and the band built to a crescendo w ith the end o f every verse.
The folks at the bar had shut up. Hank couldn’t see them too well to begin with, because
o f the lights, but now he couldn’t hear them either, and he was satisfied. When the band
left the stage, there was a b rief silence, then applause, before the talking resumed. On his
way past the bar, Hank felts a hand on his shoulder. He turned and found him self face-
to-face with a guy he should have recognized immediately. A n older guy, in his m id-to-
late twenties probably, seven o r eight years older than Hank. Hank had seen him in a
hundred pictures before, less pudgy in the cheeks perhaps, and without the gut. Still,
53
there was no mistaking the dimpled chin, the stoned grin, the bloodshot basset hound
eyes. But here? At the Backseat Lounge? In this crow d? To see this band? H ank had
never actually met him before. H e’d listened to his records, over and over again. H e’d
imagined this moment, dreamed o f it, at cockier mom ents deemed it only a m atter o f
tim e. This was the reason, after all, he’d dropped out o f high school and moved to L.A.
To be part o f the scene, make connections, be discovered. Only he hadn’t expected it
tonight. Not Gram Parsons. N ot here. N ot possible.
“That was realty far out,” Gram said. “I ju st wanted to tell you that.”
At this moment Hank Pete w as still very m uch Henry Peterson inside. Still
nervous, still seventeen, still fresh o ff the bus from Miami. He might buy Gram a drink,
o r offer to get him high. What was he up to these days? How’d he been since the bike
wreck? Been in the studio much? W hat about the Flying Burrito Brothers? W hat’d he
think o f his replacement? Was he friendly with Hillman still? With M cGuinn for th at
m atter? Hank could ask him something about Jagger o r Richards, o r Emmylou H arris.
Hank said, “Thank You” and froze. He thought later he remembered smiling at
least. He remembered Gram nodding, saying, “Sure.” Gram giving him another pat on
the shoulder, then striding away, tugged at by a young woman wearing shades and an
International H arvester baseball cap. For weeks afterw ards, this was all Hank could talk
about. He kicked him self for having been so dumbfounded, but he was hopeful. Surety
they’d meet again. Gram liked the band. He said so, didn’t he? They were really far
out, he’d said. He was a kindred soul. H e’d be back, and this time they’d talk. A bout
Cosmic American Music and M erle H aggard and G eorge Jones. Several weeks passed,
the Slow Moving Drains played their gigs, Hank w aited patiently and confidently. H e
54
sat at the bar between sets, always in plain view, sm oking cigarettes, watching out for
GP. And then, during the third week o f waiting, G ram was found dead in a motel room
in Joshua Tree, California, less than an hour’s drive from the Backseat Lounge.
See also September 19,1973; Room #8;
Ball, Marcia -
Bom in Vinton, Louisiana—close to the Texas border—singing-songwriting R & B piano
player Marcia Ball m ade her way to Austin in the 1970s, during the progressive country
movement, where she enjoyed a great deal o f popularity, first as leader o f the hippie
blues band Frida & the Firedogs, and later as a solo artist.
Band, The - see E a t the Turkey: The C om plete L a st Waltz, Authenticty.
Barton, Lou Ann — One third o f the holy trinity o f Texas barroom blues divas
(the other two-thirds being Marcia Ball and Angela Strehli), Lou Ann B arton, like Strehli,
spent much o f the 70’s jamming with The Vaughan B rothers, Jimmie and Stevie Ray.
B arton sang with an early incarnation o f Jimmie’s Fabulous Thunderbirds, before Stevie
Ray got her to join the Triple Threat Revue in 1976. When singer/guitarist W.C. Clark
quit the Revue, the name got changed to Double Trouble and by the end o f 1979, Barton
left as well to tour w ith Roomful o f Blues.
55
Barton Springs —
Stacy Walgreen: B arton Springs was this big oF natural swimming pool in the
middle o f Austin’s Zilker Park. The spring w ater was limestone-filtered and
super clean. The w ater averaged 68 degrees all year round, which is actually a bit
chilly. In the late sixties— when I was just a teenager!— and in the early
seventies... w e’d all go skinny dippin’ down there, and nobody really bothered us
about it much. In fact, it g o t to be like a “thing,” you know? Like a local
pastime or something. “Lone Star sippin’ and skinny dippin.’” A fter Mike
Murphey w rote that stupid song about the Cosmic Cowboys. It started to change
after that. Hell, by the tim e the bicentennial came around, I flat-out refused to
partake o f any o f that shit, ju st on principle. Thank god for the Sex Pistols! I
can’t tell you how long I ’d been itching to tell all those phony ass cowboys and
cowgirls to take their goddam n longneck beers and shove ‘em up their own
goddamn asses! But it w as hard, coming from my background— and being so
wrapped up in the culture, the REAL culture, from the time I w as old enough to
shovel shit. But when little Johnny Rotten came along in the w inter o f seventy-
eight, he helped me to see a way to do it, to bust their friggin’ balls and have
myself a grand old time in the process.
Basement Tapes, The - see Bob Dylan, The Floorbirds, All You Have to Do is
Dream, Bootlegging.
56
Beach Boys, The —see Brian W ilson, Pet Sounds, Smile, Phil Kaufman, Terry
Melcher, Charles M anson, Sm ile; Good Morning, Good Morning
Beatles, The -
Selected Discography o f Essential Beatles Bootleg R ecordings:
THE BEATLES:
1965 The Alternate Rubber Soul / Studio outtakes and demos / A-
1966 The Alternate Revolver / Studio outtakes and demos / A-
1967 The Lost Pepperland Reel and Other Rarities / ST / A
1967 The Alternate Set. Pepper’s / ST / A
1967 Billy Sheared / ST / A / (out-fakes!)
1968 Unplugged —acoustic (Escher) demos w/ bonus tracks from India / A- toB+
1963-68 Arrive Without Aging /A- to B+
1968-69 “Turn Me On Dead Man”: Audio Clues from the Paul McCartney Death Hoax / B+ to A
1969 The Alternate Abbey Road / Studio outtakes and demos / A- / 1 CD
1969 Unsurpassed Masters. Vol. 5 (Abbey Road outtakes! / B+ / CD
1969 The “Let It Be” Rehearsals, Vol.1-5: / A-
1-30-69 London - Olympic Sound Studios /“Get Back” session - from producer Glyn Johns’ 1st
Master Tapes of Let It Be (March 10-13/M ay 7 & 9 ) / A-or B+/
09-22-69 WBCN “Get Back” Reference Acetate (broadcast 09-22-69) / FM / A-
1963-69 Complete Christmas Collection / ST / A-
JOHN LENNON & PAUL McCARTNEY:

1974 A Toot and a Snore in ’74 ( Los Angeles) w/ Stevie Wonder and Harry Nilsson / A-
see also John Lennon; Cluesters; PFD; Billy Sheared; Good Morning, Good
Morning
BEAUTY MARKS (H.PETE) - There is nothing even vaguely country about this
song. Ironically, it may be Hank at the height o f his lyrical complexity. Although,
literally, an anatomical cataloging o f his lover's scarred body, the song has been
interpreted by more than a few feminist critics as a folk rendering o f a Madonna-as-
Christ-crucified m orality play. In concert, the tune is frequently delivered solo-acoustic.
57
Bee Caves Road -

Ducky Phillips (steel guitar player fo r both The Slow M oving D rains and The
Floorbirds): A long and winding limestone-compacted road leading ou t into the
brush and hills southw est o f Downtown Austin. We all knew that road real
well—because it lead to the Soapcreek Saloon, th e original one. H ad to watch
out for the occasional speed trap or road block—especially on the weekends. We
only got to play there a few times, and I know that really bothered H ank. Doug
Sahm ruled the roost there, o f course, but the Soap Creek did have room for
newcomers. Locals could play for the door, so if you packed the place— I think
it’d hold around 600 people—you w ere doing OK, no m atter what the cover was.
You were w orth w hat you could draw, and for w hatever reason, w e didn’t draw
shit the two o r three tim es we got ourselves on the bill. Personally, I didn’t take
it to heart. Bad timing. The first tim e, I think, Freddie King was recording a
live album at the Armadillo— and another time we w ere competing w ith .. .1 don’t
know .. .Willie o r W aylon or somebody— or else there were, like, ten different
great bands playing, in ten different locations, and, you know, that’s ju st how it
worked out. But Hank, man. He was too thin-skinned. Didn’t have much
tolerance for jokes o r criticism. But we had a good tim e out there, w hen we
weren’t the ones on stage! Probably my favorite night spot, if I had to pick one.
see Soap Creek Saloon, I C an’t Dance.
58
Bell, Rusty -
A disc Jockey for KOKE-FM. Rusty interviewed G ram Parsons, Emmylou Harris and
the rest o f the Fallen Angels during their visit to A ustin in 1973. Gram recounted his
run-in w ith Rusty during another radio interview, a w eek o r so later, at WLIR-FM in
Hempstead, NY:
Gram Parsons: Some people... We had a—D J—the other night.. .and we ripped
his EBS box up, which is Emergency B roadcasting System, which tells us all if
the Third World W ar is coming or not. H is— His EBS box kept humming and
jumping up and down while we were doing an interview and so he said [covertly],
“Hey—man—do you know how to disconnect that thing?’ [chuckles] And I w as
sitting behind him , I said, Yeah, sure I do. [laughs] Watch this! [makes a noise
im itating an electrical short circuit] A n d ... I took it apart. And this guy—this
guy was named Rusty Bell. On KOKE radio, [the audience howls with laughter]
N.D. Smart III (drums):
That’s the truth. The solid truth.
Gram Parsons: I swear. W ould I lie to you? I wouldn’t lie to you. Ah, he— he
wanted to know w hat w e thought o f “C ontinental Country.”
59
Emmylou Harris: Pro-gressive country. [Gram snickers]. Told him we played
Regressive Country.
Gram Parsons: We kept doing these things like, answering his questions with
a— [longsilence...the audience cackles] Now, on the radio that doesn’t sound
really great [laughs]. You can say, “Well—y es...” [another long silence] And
the guy’s stuck with, ah, “What should I ask him next— I don’t know”— For
anybody who’s not— watching—who’s listening— I’m nodding “NO.” [audience
laughter] And that’s the same thing as playing cards on the radio. Rusty Bell got
what he deserved. A beat-up EBS box.
Gram was notoriously difficult with DJs for some reason—though he might have had
good reason to fuck with Rusty Bell.
BE MY EMMYLOU HARRIS (H.PETE) —Unreleased.

An open-mouthed grin spread across Hank's face every time he heard Gram & Emmylou
sing together. "W ell Sweep Out the Ashes" or "Streets o f Baltimore." The day he came
home with a bootleg recording o f "The Angels Rejoiced Last Night" was the day he m et
Stacy Walgreen, and from that moment on it couldn't have m attered to him whether this
lady bullfighter from Pittsburg, Texas could sing or not: what he saw was his Emmylou
Harris, his shot at living the musical and spiritual harmony he'd aspired to ever since he
was in high school. W hat did he know? he was from Miami (though he'd never admit it).
60
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SEMINOLE INDIAN VILLAGE

R t 4 4 1 A Stirling Rd.r W. Hollywood. Fla.
The Pow Wow was being held on the p art o f the reservation they called Seminole Indian
Village. From the highway it looked like your typical second-rate tourist attraction. The
name was displayed prominently on a billboard-sized yellow sign w ith black lettering.
There were cheap- looking banners all over the place, and strands o f little triangular flags
that fluttered in the wind. In the parking lot next door stood a double-w ide trailer
61
advertising discount fireworks and cartons o f brand-nam e cigarettes. W ith the exception
o f the main entranceway — which w as fashioned o u t o f dried palm fronds— Seminole
Indian Village seemed pretty m uch at home out here, among the paw n shops and the
bailbondsmen and the used car lots o f Highway 441.
Inside was another story. The first thing you saw when you walked in the gate
was an enormous campfire surrounded by a dozen o r more thatched huts—what the
Seminoles called “chickees.” These too were made out o f palm fronds. All o f the
chickees on the near side o f the fire had been co verted into Coconut Grove-style hippie
boutiques. There was a fresh fruit and juice stand, a flower stand, a record stand. Several
head shops had made the scene, including Slak Shak and 12 Coats W est. There was
clothing for sale and jew elry and pottery. All the Indian-operated chickees were way
over on the far side o f the campfire, but from the very moment M arty had entered the
village, he’d picked up the arom a o f freshly baked Seminole pumpkin bread—entwined
perfectly, o f course, with the burning sweet scent o f marijuana.
Freaks were everywhere, while the cops, it seemed, were keeping to the
perimeter. Joints passed freely and openly among strangers. Balloons were filled with
nitrous oxide and inhaled. A juggler made his way around the campfire, dodging loose
dogs and children in his path. A red-haired young wom an twirled through the crowd, her
pupils black, her peasant skirts billowing. Longhaired shirtless men and women basked
in the sun by the ponge.
The ponge was a little canal that ran along one side o f the festival grounds. The
w ater was mucky-looking and stagnant, and you could smell it anytime you w ere close.
There was only one footbridge you could take to g et from the main gate to the concert
62
grounds, and there were all sorts o f people wading through the ponge in their bare feet.
A few tried rolling up their pantlegs, but the w ater was a bit too deep for that. M arty
noticed a pair o f cute girls in paisley cotton dresses, hesitating at the edge o f the canal.
A fter a minute, the taller o f the two pulled her skirt up to her waist. She stepped carefully
into the muck, and then started across. H er friend remained standing there, bug-eyed and
grinning like the Chesire cat. Finally, though, she ju st plunked right in and got happily
w et, skirt and all.
“I’m gonna be sick,” Weslea said. “I ’ll bet you that w ater’s full o f sewage.”
“Or leeches,” Henry offered.
“Whatever,” M arty said. “No one else seems to care.”
There were three more booths, or “non-shops,” set-up rather strategically on the concert
side o f the ponge. These w ere the least com m ercial o f the concessions, set-up from
scratch by freaks like the Subterranean Pleasure People. The Pleasure People w eren’t
shop owners like their com petitors across the ponge. They had no “permanent” storefront
in The Gables or The Grove or at Lincoln Road Mall. From the looks o f the big green
schoolbus parked behind them , they didn’t have a permanent residence either. They just
made stuff, and they sold it— or bartered it— wherever, whenever the occasion seemed
right. The main “pleasure person” was a leather craftsman named Charlie. H e did the
m ost beautiful work M arty had ever seen. Backpacks and keychains and bookcovers and
wallets. And those customized braided belts! Even the Indians w ere buying them.
A band called Sw eetwater took the stage. The sun was still blazing and far from
the horizon. Henry lit up a joint and passed it to Weslea. She took several drags and
63
handed it to Marty. It was a long way from here to the stage, but fortunately you could
hear a lot better than they could see. People were really starting to freak out to the primal
rhythms o f the Sweetwater congos. A man approached, wearing a coon skin cap and
carrying a large mason ja r full o f OJ.
“Electric orange juice?” he said. ‘I t ’s freshly squeezed— guaranteed to please!”
“How much?” Henry asked.
“No charge, brother. This is a family gathering, dig?’
Henry looked at M arty, like, who the hell is this guy calling brother? N either one o f
them had tried LSD before, but they had been discussing this very opportunity all week.
“I’d love some,” M arty said.
“Me too,” said Henry.
The man unscrewed the lid and handed the jar to M arty first. “A sw allow ’s all you
need,” he said. M arty put the jar to his lips. He took only a baby sip, then looked to the
man to see how he was doing.
“Go ahead,” he said. “A little m ore.”
M arty took one m ore little sip and passed the jar to Henry. He to o k a single healthy
mouthful, swallowed hard, and burped. “All righty,” he said. “Thank you kindly, M ister
Boon.”
“My pleasure,” the man said. “How about you, sister?’
“I don’t know,” said Weslea. “Is it really stro n g ?’
The man leaned forw ard so that their faces w ere almost touching. He seemed to
be asking her to look deep into his eyes, into his brain even.
“It sure is,” he said. He looked pretty fucking insane.
64
“Oh, I think I ’m all right,” she said. “I’ll ju st pass.”
“Shrooms, then? A mellower trip.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Mellow. T hat’s what I want.”
“Good enough,” said the man. He took several steps backward, removed his hat,
reached in and produced a plastic baggie full o f psychedelic m ushroom caps and stems.
He opened the bag and offered it to Weslea. “Help yourself sw eetheart!”
She picked out a handful o f caps.
“The stems look yucky,” she said.
“Whatever turns you on,” he said. “It all tastes like cowshit. Honest.”
Weslea’s complexion changed from pink to green, and for a minute I thought she
would turn the shroom s down as w ell as the acid, but to M arty’s surprise she popped
three or four o f them into her m outh and swallowed.
“You don’t have to chew them , do you?”
The man smiled and bowed to all three o f them. “See you around,” he said. “And
have a pleasant trip!” Then he danced o ff into the crowd.
Weslea turned to Marty and made a face.
“Uuhh!” she said. “Get me some water fast! Disgusting!” But she w as laughing.
This, then, was the Miami freak scene. In all its ragged glory. The tribes were
gathered, they w ere dancing and drinking and having a good time. W eslea had struck up
a friendship with the freak family cam ped on a blanket nearby. They had four little
kids. Three girls and a boy. Their names were Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and B ob. The
woman’s name was Shanti. The m an’s name was Tim. He had a Duane Allman beard
and wore nothing but a suede loincloth.
65
Moonlit swarms o f clouds. A mackeral sky at night. In July, the Neil Armstrong would
be standing on the m oon. The Indians performed a rain dance. Pow, man. Wow, man.
The first o f three days o n this soil. This grass. M arty w anted desperately to remove his
shoes, but he wasn’t w earing any. Why did the grass fit his feet like tube socks? And
look over there— by the chickee hut. Chickeehut. H ow funny. Fun-ee. Chick-ee.
Say it again. Chickee. Hey, Hen-ree. Say chick-ee. CHICKEE. Say ponge. PONGE.
Say SAY. It doesn’t sound right anymore. Can’t see the w ord SAY. Can’t spell it. Can
you say it if you can’t spell it? How do you spell it? S-A -Y. No, really, how? H ow do
you spell SAY. H ow do you say it? There, I said it. Good. Say Chickee.
What were those w hite blasts o f light beaming dow n from sky?
M arty wouldn’t remember a whole lot about the evening after that, but he would
remember that he heard the Grateful Dead perform, and that later, in the parking lot, he
went temporarily blind. He did not know a lot o f D ead songs at that point in his life, and
he certainly did not w rite them down, but he would later be assured by a Deadhead friend
o f his that on 5-23-69 (the friend was adamant about this) the band played HARD TO
HANDLE, M ORNING DEW , ME & M Y UNCLE, DARK STAR into ST. STEPHEN,
and THE ELEVEN into TURN ON YOUR LOVELIGHT. M arty was told that this was
an absolutely amazing set, and that he must be high not to remember any o f it. He was
high, he told his friend. W hich, apparently, was part o f the problem. Although it was
nothing, certainly, in com parison to the bout o f tem porary blindness which followed the
concert.
66
M arty did remember a little about that.
M ost people did not leave the grounds that night, but slept right in their booths or
on blankets, listening to the sounds o f the Eastern Everglades, and the occasional
snarfling o f the ‘gators.’ Others camped in the lots nearby, which were being rented out
for a dollar a “head.” Marty, W eslea, and Henry ended-up in one o f the parking lots,
looking for their car, or, rather, Uncle Jimmie’s car, until they remembered that they
hadn’t been driven to the Pow W ow, they had ridden their bikes! Where had they left
them?
The three teenagers walked around for what seemed to be hours, in and out o f
they didn’t know how many parking lots (mud lots, really!). They hadn’t a clue where
they were or w hat their bikes even looked like.
“God,” said Weslea. “I hope I can remember how to ride one!”
“It’s easy,” Henry said. “It’s just like learning to ride a bike.”
“But—ahm—Okay...”
At one point, they all decided to sit dow n—on the hood o f somebody’s car. The
three o f them ju st lay there side-by-side, their heads and backs at a bit o f an incline due to
the windshield. M arty closed his eyes and viewed for the first time what acid-trippers
often refer to as “eye-lid movies.” It was amazing. Like a kaleidoscope, but with more
infinite variations, and more varied shapes and patterns. Different images that he’d
taken in over the evening— faces, tie-dyes, cartoons, logos—appeared again before his
eyes, in the form o f a stained-glass motion picture. At first he was a little scared, but it
was so impressive, so intense, that soon he was really digging it. Until he opened his
eyes, saw a quick bright white flash, and then black. Nothing but black.
67
“Shit!” he said. “W eslea? Henry? What’s happening. W here am I? I can’t see.
I can’t see anything.”
Weslea was amazing. She stayed with him, talked to him, offered words o f
com fort and hope. Even m ore impressive was the fact that she could get herself
together enough to do so. Thank god one o f them had only taken the mushrooms!
M arty was blind for w hat seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds. A nd then,
finally, the world o f light and color faded back into his senses.
See also Temporary Blindness.
B illy Sheared-
The first bootleg album produced by M arty Kelso, in 1970. The album was, in feet, a
series o f “out-fakes,” an OOPSed version o f the B eatles’ original Sgt. Pepper’s album
see also Bootleg Recording, Pirate Recording, OOPS Effect, W eslea Stevens.
68
Birthday Cards -
“L u n ar L ou” M artinez:
I guess I was the first o f our crew to start receiving birthday cards from Johnny
[Maria]. The first to accept anyway. B ut, hell, what did they expect me to do?
Working the night shift was bleak enough—I shouldn’t take a little bonus if it
came my way?
These Birthday Cards—they were delivered to a P.O . box set up under a
fake name. “O scar Meyers” is what I used initially. U ntil... after the third or
fourth card I think it w as... Johnny M aria finally got the jo k e and told me to
knock off the cute stuff. He wasn’t too bright, that Johnny. As my mother used
to say, “the elevator didn’t run all the way to the top floor” w ith that guy. But he
was one hell o f a scary bastard, I’ll tell you what. His nickname was “The
Hammer,” and you don’t even wanna know about it. Believe me. Nobody at
KOOK ever got his kneecaps busted up, but it happened. I know that shit
happened. This friend o f a friend, for example. W orked fo r a Top 40 station up
in Dallas—also Johnny’s territory— and this guy, he don’t w alk so good
anymore. H e learned his lesson pretty quick, though—and he still has his job and
one good kneecap, the lucky bastard.
But, anyway, I’d get my Birthday card every week, o r occasionally I’d
find a cassette tape case full o f blow, or a record sleeve w ith a couple o f nice crisp
bills in it— and I’d make sure Johnny got his 3 o r 4 adds. People thought it might
get tougher for D Js to do these adds once all the stations started hiring these
69
Radio Consultants— but Johnny ju st put those guys on his payroll to o , and it was
business as usual. Stoldtman and I worked quite a few Paper Adds in our day.
T hat’s when the Programmer promises an independent prom otor like Johnny the
add, but then he’s w orried about the song... thinks it’s a dog and doesn’t want to
play it during peak hours. So he puts the record into “Lunar R otation.” After
2:00 in the morning, say, when ol’ Lunar Lou is w orking the platters!
With a really cooperative Radio Consultant or Program D irector, though,
Johnny could cut the D J out o f the equation altogether. He w ouldn’t need to pay
us, he’d just pay the guy who ranked us, and we w ouldn’t be able to do shit. But
Stoldtman always took care o f me, even after all the Birthday Cards started
coming to him.
What an industry! And, I ’m telling you, this shit rose straight to the top.
I mean, don’t forget, it was the record companies who were paying these
Independent Prom oters to get their records onto our playlists. N o wonder Fonda
and M arty never felt the slightest bit o f guilt about the bootleg thing. They
thought o f themselves as a couple o f BAD m otherfuckers—I mean, they thought
they were takin ’ it to THE MAN\ And if they had to screw a few songwriters
and performers in the process—so be it. What w ere you gonna do?
And I’ll tell yo u— when Fonda and M arty first caught wind o f w hat I was
doing? They both w anted to fuckin’ kill me. In the end, they w ere the only ones
o f the KOOK air sta ff who did hold out. That Fonda! He stuck to his guns—
even after they torched his record shop. That w as a shame. Best damn record
store in Texas. They say there was so much m elted vinyl that it dripped down
70
through the floorboards and onto some o f the overstock in the basement. A river
o f vinyl they said. I guess Johnny figured Fonda would miss his store more than
he’d miss his kneecaps. You didn’t mess w ith Johnny—or any o f his cohorts.
The Chain was one powerful organization,
see also Independent Promotors, The Chain, Payola.
Black Velvet-
1.) A brand name o f Canadian Blended Whiskey 2.) A type o f plush, texturedpainting—
usually a portrait o f Elvis, or Jesus, or a Sad Clown— and so ld at fle a m arkets or on state
highway median strips.
Stacy rested her elbows on the counter and her chin on her hands and started to read the
label on the back o f the bottle—as if it was a cereal box and she was a child at the
breakfast table.
“Black Velvet,” she said, picking at the label. "Good old Bee Vee. Boy, does
that bring back memories. Remember the paintings?"
"The paintings?"
"Black Velvet," she said. "Black Velvet paintings. Y ou know ...the fuzzy ones...
o f like unicorns and tigers and... I don't know ... Elvis."
"You could put them under a black light."
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah...a black light...and it made things all purp— excuse me,"
she said. "It made things all purpley..."
M arty laughed. "Jesus," he said.
71
"What?"
"My bedroom," M arty said. "In high school. I w as ju st picturing it."
"I knew a lot boys like you."
"Boys w ith posters."
"Johnny Pacheeva-.." she said.
"Who?"
"Nothing. Just, you know, getting nostalgic."
"You?' he said. "I don't believe it."
"He even had them on the ceiling," she said. "It w as all so tacky, but..."
"Johnny Pacheeva, huh?"
"What?" she said. "Yeah. Johnny... M an, talk about memories." She held up the
bottle. "To great memories," she said.
"O f bad taste," he added.
"I like that," she said. "Great memories o f bad taste. That's what it is, isn't it?
W hat nostalgia is?"
"Bad taste," he said. "Poor judgem ent. What are w e leaving out?"
I f he'd been Hank at this moment he would have pulled o u t his guitar o r sat down at the
piano and w ritten one hell o f a country & w estern song. The raw material was right
there, just waiting to be shaped. Great m em ories o f bad taste. Christ, if a songwriter
couldn't run w ith that and score....
In fact, he would sit in the living room that night, after Stacy had passed out on
the sofa, and attem pt to do ju st what Hank w ould have. H e to re a mostly white piece o f
cardboard o ff the back o f an empty pizza box, pulled out a pen, and began to scribble:
72
What m ight memory do to this evening

What m ight memory do to this sin
What m ight memory do to this woman
A nd the hard, desperate shape that I'm in
But that's as far as he got. Here was a situation. A sentiment. Hank could have rolled up
this piece o f paper and wrung it until tears fell to the floor. M arty just got depressed and
frustrated. He couldn't truly hear the m usic in his head. A t the outset it would always
seem he could. He was always dreaming up songs. In the car, at dinner, during movies.
He could foresee the whole process: the writing and rearranging and recording. He
wasn't a terrible guitar player. Close enough for rock & roll anyway. Initially, he’d
played guitar and H ank had played bass. M arty was the one to turn Hank on to George
Jones and Bill Monroe and a lot o f Dylan songs he'd never heard before. M arty gave him
a copy o f the International Submarine Band's Safe at Hom e—one of the first real
country-rock albums. W hat GP would later term "Cosmic American Music." M arty’s
knowledge o f music history was encyclopedic, even m ore so than Hank’s, and that was
sure saying something. M arty could tell you what year, w hat artist, which album, which
track. But lyrics wouldn't linger on his tongue like honey the way they would for Hank.
Originally, they’d decided to put Hank on lead vocals not because he could sing but
because he knew more words than anybody. Marty would give him these tapes and he'd
show up to practice the next day singing them start to finish. One time they’d tried out a
country version o f "Sad-eyed Lady o f the Lowlands" and Hank recalled all sixty-five
lines without faltering— on the first take!
M arty didn't need to tear any m ore pieces from the pizza box. He popped the cap
o ff a bottle o f Pearl, drank it, and went to bed. Hank could never have slept. H e would
73
have drunk longnecks until evening and the song were finished. Great m em ories o f bad
taste. Bad memories o f great taste. Hell. That evening back in 1976 had already been a
rough night for everyone. H ank and Stacy had ju st been booed out o f a sleazy little joint
on 6th Street. Everyone had taken it down to the Catfish and gotten drunk w ith that
crowd. H ank was really upset, and eventually really wasted, to the point th at he started
dishing it out to Stacy. A whole lot o f crap about her not giving it her all. Stacy told him
it wasn't her fault if he didn't have what it takes to find a real partner, and th at just sent
him through the roof. Hank w as always giving Stoldtman an earful about how Gram
Parsons had been able to persuade his manager to hire Elvis' band for th e G P and
Grievous A ngel sessions. He w as super sensitive about that. Hank had B eauty M arks
and Alm ost Texas under his belt and was getting a bit cocky about the kind o f company
he deserved to be keeping. So for Stacy to imply he wasn't worthy—w ell, he had to lay
into her after that, tell her she was a no-talent cowgirl he'd never have let into the studio
were it not for the feet that she was such a dam good fuck. Well, that surprised the hell
out o f everybody, not because they hadn't seen it all along but because they w ere positive
that he hadn't seen it. The feet was, M arty still didn't believe he saw it, he ju st said it
because it was the meanest dam n put-down he could come up with.
O f course, no one expected that sort o f understanding from Stacy, especially not
at the point o f insult. M arty left Hank to find the bottom o f a bottle w ith D ucky and John
Paul while he took Stacy home. He expected to catch up w ith them at Shoney's or
something, but o f course he never made it. M arty and Hank never talked about it
directly, though Marty was alm ost certain he knew and possibly even understood. 1977's
“Bought the Farm” was Hank at his darkest and m ost autobiographical. O ne cut in
74
particular, "Vintage Lies," came hauntingly close to naming what M arty came to feel
almost three years later, sitting alone in that living room with a bottle o f beer and a piece
o f pizza box, trying to write a song:
A fo o l m ight think these ripe o ld sins

Won't rot upon the vine,
That these sad, sour kisses w ill sweeten,
A nd we'll drink down our p a st like wine.
—Hank Pete, "Vintage Lies"
see also Stacy Walgreen, Marty Kelso, Ducky Phillips, John Paul George.
Bootleggers - see ROIO, T u M adre Records, M arty Kelso.
Bootleg Recording —see also Pirate Recording, Archive, Fonda LaBelle,

GWW, WBCN GET BACK REFERENCE ACETATE, CUnton Heylin
Border Blasters —Back in the sixties, as many recall, a lot o f listeners thought
Wolfinan Jack was Mexican. It finally came to light that his name w as Robert Smith and
he was a white guy bom and raised in Brooklyn. But that hadn’t m ade a bit o f difference
on the radio. How could it have? It w asn’t until the early seventies, w hen the W olfinan
appeared in American Graffiti, that he became the patented image everyone has
programmed into their memory banks today. Prior to that, he was ju st a disembodied
voice, a border blaster, in the spirit o f old Dr. Brinkley. It’s been said that The Cosmic
American’s radio heroes were these B lasters from the past, although clearly there w ere a
75
number o f differences between his situation and theirs. To begin with, KOOK was a
“legitimate” radio station, even if they were failing in the ratings. And, o f course, XERF
had put out a lot more w atts—a quarter million—from their colossal transmitter in
Ciudad Acuna. Five times more than the FCC allowed. Given how AM radio waves
travel further at night, the Wolfinan was generally crossing a second border and talking to
folks up in the Canada. The Cosmic American didn’t have that kind o f muscle at KOOK,
though his listening audience wasn’t limited strictly to the city o f Austin. During the
daytime, KOOK broadcast as far as north as Waco, and as far w est as Del Rio. A gal had
even called-in one time, told him she’d picked up his signal on the highway halfway
between Big Spring and Lubbock—not a bad chunk o f dirt to cover,
see Wolfinan Jack
B o rg e s, J o rg e Luis - see also A Personal Anthology, Performance, Memo from
Turner.
Bowie, David -
Selected Discography of Essential Bootleg Recordings:
1971 Freddi & The Dreamer: The Arnold Koms Sessions / ST/ A to A-
1972 Crash Course for the Ravers - live, Ziggy Stardust-era BBC radio broadcasts /A-
05-??-72 Trident Studio Sessions (w/ Mott the Hoople & Lou Reed) / ST / B+
05-06-72 Kingston Polytechnic - London / AUD / C-
07-08-72 Royal Festival Hall —London (w/ special guest Lou Reed) / AUD /C or C-
10-20-72 Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, CA / FM / A
11-17-72 Drive-in Saturday - Pirate’s World, Dania, FL / AUD / B or fi
l l -25-72 Cleveland Entertainment Arena —Cleveland, OH / AUD? / B or B+
see also David Jones, Ziggy Stardust & The Spiders from M ars, Pseudonymity
76
Broken Spoke, The -

3201 S. Lamar Boulevard, Austin, TX
Dance-hall culture... old-time atm osphere...
Waters, Andrea Ellen - aka Andrea Brown- aka “Vicki Vinyl”-

Formerly a co-ow ner o f Beggar’s Banquet Records in Anaheim, California, M s. Vinyl
was fined tens o f thousands o f dollars after the FBI seized 12 tons o f bootleg records
found in her possession. According to numerous testimonies, Vicki Vinyl had been
operating since at least 1975, selling bootleg recordings o f everything from The Beatles
to the Stones to Springsteen to The Clash. Vinyl’s bust first made headlines in Decem ber
o f 1980, and came as particularly bad news to Fonda LaBelle and M arty Kelso, who were
already having a bad year and an even worse month.
See also Vicki VinyL
Brown, Norman O. -
The external enemy is (part of) ourselves, projected; our own badness, banished.
The only defense against an internal danger is to make it an external danger...Murder is
misdirected suicide, to destroy part o f oneself; murder is suicide with mistaken identity
...a case o f mistaken identity, an accident, at the crossroads, the stranger is the father.
Pater sem per incertus; his identity is established by killing him.
— from Love’s Body
See also Negative Creation, Suicide o f Autobiography, Homicide o f Biography,
Henry Adams, Henry James, W.H. Auden, Pseudocide.
“Burrito Ego Man” - (Melody Maker)
Anonymous: “Gram Parsons, The Burrito Ego M an,” in M elndv M aker. July 25, 1970
see “The M ost Loathesome Film o f AH” (August 23, NYT review)
c
Calvino, Italo - see Multiplicity.
C atcher in the R ye —
John Lennon’s killer, M ark David Chapman, was obsessed w ith J.D. Salinger’s novel,
and w ith Holden Caulfield’s observations about all the“phoniness” and “corruption” in
the world.
From Who Killed John Lennon? (1989), by Fenton Bresler:
On Tuesday, 27 January 1981....M ark telephoned Jonathan M arks and announced:

“I am the ‘Catcher in the Rye’ o f the present generation!”.... H e had written in his
copy o f the book that he took w ith him to the scene o f the crime: “To Holden
Caulfield from H olden Caulfield” and below that: “This is my statem ent.” But he
also added that now he knew why Lennon was killed—to prom ote the reading o f
the book. (281)
On Sunday, 1 February, Chapman sat down and w rote to the NYT in ballpoint capitals a
“statem ent” which the newspaper printed eight days later (Bresler 281):
Signed
M ark David Chapman

Catcher in the Rye
On Oct.30 : [Chapman] arrived in the city, and spent a night at the W aldorf
Astoria (like Holden) before checking into the Vanderbilt Branch o f the YMCA at
244 East 47th Street. No sooner was he unpacked then he began retracing
79
Holden Caulfield’s Via Dolorosa. Chapman visited the “lagoon” at the foot o f
Central Park, whose disappearing ducks had so puzzled Holden. He watched the
children riding the carousel and climbing atop the statue o f Alice in Wonderland.
Making his way north and w est across the park, he found the Museum o f N atural
History, where Holden had m et his adored sister, Phoebe. The museum lies ju st
five blocks north o f the Dakota, where Chapman now began to hang about,
reading a history o f the building, which he found fascinating. To get closer to his
target, he moved into the O lcott Hotel, ju st half a block from the Dakota.
(Goldman 674).
He laid out a picture o f Dorothy from The Wizard o f Oz, an eight-track tape o f
Todd Rundgren, copy o f the N ew testam ent (in which he had w ritten “Holden
Caulfield” and added to the words “Gospel According to John” the name
“Lennon”), his expired passport, a letter o f recommendation from an official o f
the Y, and pictures o f himself taken when he worked at Fort Chaffee.” (Goldman,
paper edition, 822).
See also Mark David Chapman, December 8,1980, Shoot Me, Narcissistic
Personality Disorder, Nashville, The Man Who Killed Mick Jagger.
Celebrity — see Anonymity, Fame, Pseudonymity.
Chain, The —see Independent Promotors, Birthday Cards, Payola, Johnny “The
Hammer” Maria.
C itizen K ane Ju n io r B lues - a vinyl Bootleg recording o f Neil Young’s solo
acoustic performance at the Bottom Line in N ew York City, M ay 16, 1974.
See Motion Pictures, Honeyslides.
80
Clapton, Eric —see Derek & The Dominos, Layla & Majnun, Pseudonymity
Clark, Guy -
1975- O ld No. 1
1976 —Texas Cookin ’
1978- G u y Clark
1981 —The South Coast o f Texas
Club Foot -
110 East 4tk Street, Austin, TX
Along w ith Raul’s and Duke’s Royal C oach Inn, Club Foot was part o f the “new wave”
o f music venues that marked the beginning o f the end o f the country-rock scene in
Austin. The club did, however, book the occasional Progressive Country act like Joe Ely
or Doug Sahm (who even recorded an album there—Live Texas Tornado— w ith a latter-
day incarnation o f the Sir Douglas Q uintet).
See Ralph the Diving Pig, Joe Ely, R aul’s.
Cluesters —see PID, Weslea Stevens, Billy Sheared, Good Morning, Good M orning
Coconut Grove, Florida - M arty Kelso had come across this ad in the Free
Press for something called the Big R ock Pow Wow. It w as a music festival— a three
day affair— featuring bands like the G rateful Dead, Johnny Winter, Muddy W aters, Joe
81
South, N.R.B.Q., and The Youngbloods. W hat’s m ore, it was going to be held on the
Seminole Indian Reservation, out at the com er o f R oute 441 and Stirling Road. Barely
five miles away! M arty couldn’t believe it. This w as going to be huge— and it was going
to be happening right in his own backyard.
Tickets w ere five dollars in advance. Six at the door. That w asn’t so much
money, but it was m ore than he generally spent in an evening, that’s for sure. He was
going to need money for food, to o, and party supplies. He’d already been a little hung up
about money to begin with, as he w as hoping to buy a guitar and start taking lessons. But
his prayers were answered before h e’d even left the pages o f the M iami Free Press. For
there, on the same page as an article on John Lennon and Yoko Ono, was a small text
box, and inside o f that, a cartoon drawing o f a sandaled hippie holding a joint between his
fingers, and the following message:
HIGH! SELL THE M IAM I FREE PRESS
STOP AT 3305 GRAND AVE COCONUT GROVE 10-5
PICK UP 10 FREE COPIES OF THE MIAMI FREE PRESS,
SELL THEM — KEEP ALL THE BREAD
AFTER THAT YOU CAN MAKE $10 PER 100 COPIES SOLD
A t twenty-five cents a pop, he could make two dollars and fifty cents o ff the free copies
alone. And he w as sure he could sell more than ten. He could probably sell more than a
hundred. The real problem would be finding a ride down to Coconut Grove. That was
south o f the city, at least a half hour drive. Maybe even an hour. N one o f his friends
were old enough to drive—not even Henry—and M arty wouldn’t be caught dead in The
Grove with his m other or father. T hat left only one option. Uncle Jimmie.
82
Jimmie was a pretty good uncle that way. H e’d give you ride when you asked
him. Although there was usually some condition, some angle he’d stick you with. You
might owe him a few hours w ork at the Swap M eet, for example. O r at the warehouse
doing inventory. Marty wondered what it w ould be this time. The last time he’d asked
for a ride, he’d had to wash and wax Jimmie’s girlfriend’s car. N ot that Jimmie was a
tyrant or anything. He’d throw n in a couple beers afterwards. Jimmie was always good
for a couple o f beers.
Palmetto Corp was out by the airport, not so far from The Grove, really. So
Jimmie had an idea. “I gotta go in for a couple o f hours on Saturday,” he said. “Come
along, and I’ll swing you by The Grove afterw ards. Bring a friend if you want. I could
use a couple o f extra hands.”
Marty had been trying to decide w hether he should invite Henry along o r not. On
the one hand, he wanted to keep all the profits to himself. On the other hand, he was still
getting to know Henry, and he wanted to know him better. This was something to offer.
Something to do. The Grove was a pretty funky place. They could pop into a couple o f
record stores. Maybe even a head shop. They’d have to test out Jimmie on that one.
M arty was always thrilled when Henry chose to hang around with him, but it was usually
pretty clear to Marty that when Henry DID it was because he had nothing better to do, or
because Marty had something Henry wanted, like cigarettes or liquor or a ride. Henry
was using him, sure, yet M arty decided not to let it bother him too much, because he
figured he was using Henry too— buying his tim e, in order to let him see how desirable
M arty’s friendship really was. His first m istake, perhaps, though it definitely would not
be his last.
83
Jimmie Kelso drove a big ol’ Pontiac Bonneville four-door sedan. It had a
metallic green paint job and a white leather interior. The boys m et him in front o f the
Quikee-Mart at nine a.m. sharp. Jimmie had the radio tuned to a rhythm & blues station,
WMBM 1490. W ith the windows down and the volume up, the three o f them cruised
south on 1-95, listening to the Supersoul Top 40 Countdown. Ray Charles w as at
number forty w ith “Let M e Love You.” Thirty-nine was L aura Lee, and “Love More
Than Pride.” They listened to “Never Gonna Leave You” by the Blue N otes, and “A
New Day Begins” by The Paramounts. D ow n around Ives D airy Road, though, Jimmie
turned the dial to a country & western station. He cut o ff Sly & The Family Stone right
in the middle o f “W ant to Take You Higher.” Henry w as sitting in the back seat, and
Marty turned to check his reaction. Henry ju st smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
Marty rolled his eyes.
“So, Jimmie,” M arty said. “What are we doing again?”
“W e’ve got a truck to unload.”
“A truck?'
“W hat’s in it,” asked Henry.
“Bunch o f old records,” said Jimmie. “That I saved from certain death.”
“Cool,” M arty said. “Anything good?”
“Nothing you little hippies would like.”
“W haddya got?”
“Oh, let’s see,” he said. “We’ve got some Bing Crosby, and some P erry Como,
and your personal favorite, Jackie Gleason.”
M arty laughed and shook and his head. “Oh, m an," he said.
84
“Sorry, boys. Don’t have any Grateful Butterfly for you. No Peppermint
Airplane.”
Jimmie dropped them o ff in front o f the park on M ain Highway.
“Grande Ave is just a block and a half that way,” he said. ‘T ak e a left over there
by Commodore Plaza.” He looked at his watch. “So w hat do you think? M eet you
back here in a couple o f hours?”
“Great!” M arty said. He could barely contain himself. Two hours!
“Thanks,” said Henry, and they both hopped out o f the car.
The tw o o f us them were in heaven. It was a beautiful spring day. April in
Miami. The park w as full o f freaks and hippies.
“Wow,” H enry said. “L et’s hurry up and get those newspapers. I wanna come
back and check this place out.”
There w ere psychedelic boutiques everywhere. Smoke shops, record stores, even
a hippie pet shop called The Electric Zoo. A sign in one shop window read, “Blow Y our
Mind, Not Your B read.” On M ain Highway alone, there were two hippie clothing
stores: Limbo South and M otherlode. FREEDOM IN FASHION FO R MEN &
WOMEN.
They turned left at M otherlode and a block later took a left on Grande. M arty had
been expecting a big sign o f some sort, o r a brightly colored building. It wasn’t until
they’d walked som e distance that he thought to start looking at street numbers. They’d
almost walked right past the place.
85
Inside, they were greeted by a big walrus o f a man w ith a bald head and a long
blonde beard. He was w earing a pair o f white overalls, and that was about it. No shirt,
no shoes. M arty doubted the guy was wearing any underwear.
“H i,” the man said. H e was sitting by on open window, smoking a cigarette.
“Hi,” M arty said. Henry didn’t say anything, only nodded hello.
The man didn’t get up. He didn’t say anything. H e ju stso rto fsm ile d in th e
boys’ general direction.
“Do you work here?” Marty asked.
“Sure do,” he said. “Do you?”
“N o ” Marty said.
“O h ” the man said, and he stood up. “I thought maybe you did.” He held out the
hand that w asn’t holding the cigarette. His left one.
M arty extended his ow n right hand, observed the problem , and quickly offered his
left instead.
“Name’s L.S.,” the man said. “I’m kind o f new around here.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Marty said.
“L .S.,” the man said to Henry, offering him a left handshake as well.
“£7lis?” Henry said.
“L .S.,” the man said. “Letter L, Letter S .”
“A s in L S D ”
“That’s good,” said L.S. “I like that. LSD. That’s a good one.”
“W e’re here about the ad,” Marty said. “About the ten free copies. We w ant to
sell the Miami Free Press.”
86
“You’ve com e to the right place,” said L.S. “Just gimme a second here.” He
walked over to one com er o f the room where there were several stacks o f newspapers
tied together with tw ine. He grabbed a handful o f them o ff the top o f the pile. “You
together or separate?” he asked.
Henry and M arty looked at each other and shrugged.
“How about ten each,” said L.S. ‘T en ain’t hard.” He handed each o f them a
small stack. “Okay, here’s the deal. Y ou’re serious about this, right?”
They both nodded.
“All right, then. These here I ’m giving you are free. Y ou go out and sell 'em ,
keep the money. T hat’s it. No obligation. After that, you come back anytime, give us
fifteen dollars, and w e’ll give you another hundred copies to sell. I f you can sell all one
hundred at the cover price, you’ll make back your fifteen dollars, plus ten dollars profit.
That make sense to you?”
“So wait a m inute,” Marty said. “What you’re saying is— ”
“He’s selling them to us for fifteen cents a copy,” said Henry.
“That’s what it comes down to ,” said L.S. “But I’ll tell you. People are making
money. We’ve got a guy over in Coral Gables making a hundred and fifty bucks a
week! So what do you say? You interested?’
“I think so,” M arty said.
“We’ll try it,” said Henry.
They took in seven dollars apiece that week. Twenty-five dollars the week after
that. Selling The Press was a snap. The Middle School was good for fifty copies a
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week at least. Business w as even better over at Dania H igh School, though M arty had
been terrified to go there at first. He was still only in the seventh grade, after all. Even
m ost ninth graders were afraid o f the high school. O f getting beaten up. B ut it was
different, it turned out, for people who hung out at The C om er. M arty already knew a
few tenth graders—the ones who came by The Comer to sell nickel bags, o r grams o f
hash. I f you were a burnout, you were all right with them . And you w ere all right with
their friends too. Twenty-five cents was nothing to these guys. N ot with all the weed
they were sitting on. They’d buy copies o f The Press from M arty and Henry, and get
them high too. O f course, now that he had some real pocket change, M arty could afford
to splurge on a few more nickel bags himself. He starting splitting dime bags with
Henry, and even half ounces. And they started splitting school at lunchtime, so they
could spend their afternoons in the high school parking lot, getting baked w ith older guys
like Bobby Dudek and Richard Imbesi.
see also Daily Planet/Miami Free Press
Coe, David Allan -

Discography o f Essential and Inessential Official Releases:
Penitentiary Blues - 1968

Requiem fo r a Harlequin - 1973
The M ysterious Rhinestone Cowboy - 1974
Once Upon A Rhyme - 1975
Longhaired Redneck - 1976
Rides A g a in - 1977
Tattoo - 1977
Texas M oon - 1977
Fam ily Album - 1978
Human Em otions - 1978
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Buckstone County Prison (soundtrack) - 1978

Spectrum VII - 1979
Compass Point - 1979
Willie and D avid —
I ’ve G ot Something To Say - 1980
Invictus Means Unconquered - 1980
Tennessee Whiskey - 1981
see Rome Inn, Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy, Pseudonymity, Hearse
Cohen, Nudie - The world-famous Hollywood rodeo tailor. Nudie outfitted
everybody from Gene Autry to Elvis. Hank Snow. Webb Pierce. And when H ank and
M arty had first glimpsed Gram Parsons decked out in these outlandish threads, it was
only 1970. David Allan Coe hadn’t told anybody to kiss his ass just yet, but GP m ost
certainly had. He was playing country and wearing sequined marijuana leaves. To put it
lightly, this was not the norm, for country or rock and roll. As it’s been said o f Bob
Dylan, Gram was “burning his candle from both ends and taking a blowtorch to the
middle.” So much for baseball cards or comic books or bicycles even—or cars. F or his
fifteenth birthday, Henry Peterson w anted a Nudie suit.
Henry’s folks lived off o f Ives Dairy Road, near the Broward/Dade County line.
His dad, Mel Peterson, ran the Q uik-Stop on Las Olas Boulevard. The old man ran The
Stop single-handedly, Monday through Friday, to keep costs down. On weekends he
employed his daughter, Haley, and her older boyfriend, Brick, who’d spent a year in
Vietnam and was back for good— on a medical discharge. The Stop was open seven to
eleven. Henry’s m other worked nights as well, teaching English and Spanish at Miami-
Dade. She’d been a Rockette, and a seamstress too, and while the average m other in
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1970 might have found her son’s passion for rhinestone and sequin a bit disconcerting,
Brenda Peterson did not. To the contrary, she undertook the Nudie-like task o f putting
together a suit for Henry’s birthday. She’d never heard o f Nudie Cohen, but she’d seen
Gene Autry on National Beam Dance when she was a little girl and had seen some o f his
movies as well. She had at least an inkling o f the “cowboy gaudiness” Henry wanted so
badly.
She pulled Marty aside one afternoon and asked him to show her a picture o f “this
Gram Parsons character.” Henry was in the sun room arguing with W eslea, and M arty
slipped down to the basement with Mrs. Peterson to show her the Gilded Palace o f Sin
cover. The photo had been shot in the high desert country near Joshua Tree, California.
All four Burritos—Gram, Chris Ethridge, Chris Hillman, and “Sneaky Pete” Kleinow—
were “Nudied” head to toe and standing around a weathered old shack. In the doorway to
the shack posed two very sexy models, a blonde and a brunette.
All four suits were different. “Sneaky Pete’s” w as black, with a yellow
Pterodactyl sewn across the chest. Hillman’s was a satiny royal blue, w ith red flames
down the pantlegs and sequined peacocks framing each lapel. Ethridge and Parsons w ere
dressed in white. Ethridge’s outfit had tails, but Gram’s jacket was cut short — it barely
reached his waist. Both suits were adorned w ith roses, but Gram’s designs far exceeded
his partner’s. His lapels sported frontally nude women. O n the side-panels o f the jacket,
where a traditional rhinestone cowboy might have worn a cactus or a wagonwheel, Gram
wore bright green marijuana leaves. Like Hillman, he had flames down his pantlegs, but
against the white background, Gram’s blazed more brightly. You couldn’t see it in these
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pictures, but Nudie had embroidered pink carnations onto the seat o f Gram ’s pants— one
for each cheek. On the back o f his jacket blazed a bright red cross.
Mrs. Peterson took a good look at the front o f the album cover. She flipped it
over and looked at the back, which show ed a different photo from the same series but
closer up and with one o f the m odels now in Gram Parson’s arms.
“Who are the women?” she asked.
Marty didn’t know. It didn’t say. They were ju st models, he told her.
Mrs. Peterson pointed to Chris Hillman’s suit, the blue one.
“I could do something like that,” she said. “That would be easy enough.”
He had to tell her he disagreed. That wasn’t the kind o f N udie suit Henry had in
mind.
“He wants one like Gram’s,” M arty said, and pointed to him. “That’s Gram,” he
said.
Mrs. Peterson shook her head. She looked up tow ard the top o f the stairs, then
back to the album cover.
“Does it have to be exactly the same?” she said. “Doesn’t he w ant to be
different? Shouldn’t he have his ow n style?”
M arty said he didn’t think so, but he’d try to find out for her— subtly, o f course.
He headed for the stairs.
“Maybe without those plants,” she said. “I’d be willing to do it without the
plants.”
91
He talked to Henry directly, o f course. It would have been nice to surprise him,
M arty supposed, but the greater concern was that Mrs. Peterson’s creation might turn into
too much o f a surprise.
“She thinks you should have cactuses,” Marty told him . “O r lassos or
something.”
Shit!” Henry said. “I wanna look like a Burrito, not a jackass!”
“She’s not going to go for the pot leaves.”
“No.”
“Let’s think o f something else. There’s got to be som ething sort o f cosmic that
won’t upset her so much.”
They sat on it for a while. Henry put on the new Stones album, and the two o f
them did one-hits out a new smokeless system he’d ordered from the back o f High Times.
“Peace pipes,” said Henry.
“W hat?’
“Peace pipes. She can’t say no to peace pipes. T hat’s cowboys & indians all the
way.”
Heads would dig peace pipes, he argued, and straights wouldn’t notice anything
out o f the ordinary.
Yes, they’d started on the dope at a ripe old age. M arty was maybe twelve when
he smoked his first bowl. They were into pot mostly, and m ushroom s. A tab o f LSD
now and then. A fter getting in good with Billy Peltier, they tried coke and quaaludes,
and the occasional breath o f opiated hash under a glass. It w as all harmless enough.
They drank as well, o f course, and sometimes vomited, or passed out, but w hat could you
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expect? It all came w ith the territory. They co-founded a rock and roll band and
practiced in Henry’s basement every weeknight while his parents were at work. They
were a couple o f teens having the tim e o f their lives.
But they should have known better than to let a m other do a rodeo tailor’s job.
They found this out on the twenty-ninth o f December, Henry’s birthday. Henry had just
blown out the candles. His sister, Haley, gave him a set o f Fender Bullet guitar strings.
From Weslea, love o f his life, he received pair o f genuine snakeskin boots, used and
perfectly worn. The real gift, she’d whispered, would come later. M arty gave him a
copy o f The Byrds’ Sweetheart o f the Rodeo album. N ext w as the main attraction. Mrs.
Peterson wheeled it into the dining room on movable coat-rack. The suit hung there like
a headless lounge lizard.
“Happy Fifteenth!” she chimed, pivoting on the balls o f her feet and gesturing
dramatically w ith her hands toward her creation. It was awful. The suit was bright,
dandelion yellow—which could have worked, mind you. Henry slid his chair forward, to
get a better look. H e lifted the jacket by the lapels and examined the pattern.
“What are these?” he asked.
“They look like flutes!” said Haley.
“Flutes?” said Henry.
Rather than embroidering peace pipes onto the lapels (which, w hen Marty had
suggested it, she had, without the slightest objection, agreed to do), M rs. Peterson had
embroidered on each lapel a begonia pink flute.
see also Gram Parsons, Flying Burrito Brothers, Ersatz, Cosmic Cowboy,
Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy, Pseudonymity
93
Collecting —Even as a young child, M arty Kelso was very particular about his
hobbies. He had this thing about “completeness.” He wanted com plete sets o f things.,
whatever he was collecting at the time. It didn’t m atter whether it w as marbles or toy
soldiers o r comic books. He had to have the entire set. Always, the entire set. And, o f
course, the bigger the available set, the better it would be in his eyes. There was a legion
o f Roman soldiers, for example, that he ordered one tim e out o f the back o f a comic
book. It cost 99 cents— a lot o f money in those days— and came w ith 100 different
pieces. Figurines and artillery and so forth. It must have taken tw o m onths before the
package arrived. M arty wound up so crest-fallen. The advertisem ent had been
absolutely grand. Every color and detail imagineable. He opened up the carton and
looked inside, and, o f course, it contained nothing o f the sort he had imagined. There
were, as promised, many, many pieces, but they were made o f such brittle plastic, and a
good number o f the pieces arrived broken. They came in only tw o colors, blue for the
Greeks and yellow for the Romans. The figures were quite small and flat, with only the
sparest details etched into them. They w ere just barely three-dim ensional.
That experience didn’t put him o ff the idea o f collecting how ever. It only made
him that much more critical. His m other couldn’t bare to take him to the to y store
anymore. She had to m ake her husband do it. M arty would take hours. He had to
scrutinize every single item , every last detail, every last option. He w as obsessive. But
he kept him self occupied, his parents had to give him that. H e’d go o ff to his room with
whatever acquisition he’d ju st made, and he’d stay in there for days if you let him. He
truly valued his possessions. Not like some children w ith their toys. H e’d never think o f
94
mishandling one o f his things, never mind give another person the chance to do so.
Some people might call that selfish, but that w asn’t it, exactly. At a certain point, he
really didn’t even consider them toys anymore. They were artifiacts. Treasures. Little
scraps o f history. For a while, actually, he turned his room into a museum. It was very
popular w ith the neighborhood children. T hey liked to come over and “play museum.”
But to young M arty Kelso, it was not a gam e at all. It was m uch more serious than that.
He was dead serious when it came to his collections.
You don’t really like yourself but you just can’t quit. Perhaps you really
don’t want to. This is what th e outsiders...are m issing.... You grow out
o f it, almost always...other things come into your life, adult things...a new
partner isn’t going to put up w ith a perfect, invisible rival. You make your
choice fer real life, real sex, and really washing the pots, and if there’s any
regrets, at least you’ve ‘know n’ your obsession for longer than your
partner for life.
-John Aizelwood, Love is the Drug: Living as a Pop Fan, p.xi
from The Recording AngeL by Evan Eisenberg :
The collecting o f cultural objects can satisfy any num ber o f needs, among which
snobbery may not be the most im portant. Here is a tentative list:
The need to make beauty and pleasure permanent. As beautiful sights and
sounds go by one tries to grab them rather than trust them , or others as beautiful,
to com e around again. This indicates a m istrust o f the world, a mistrust that goes
back to the Greeks (at least) and helps explain why they made and preserved so
much art. What is the sense o f mimesis after all? There will be other springs,
other heroes, other hetairai. Why pin and press these specimens when others,
alive and ju st as lovely, will surely flu tter by? The G reeks might have answered,
in part, that the latter will not be as excellent as the form er. Hesiod saw things
going downhill, the standards slipping, from gold to any old alloy. The Greeks
had no faith in nature’s abundance, o r th e M uses’. The marketplace might teem
with poets, but when would there be another Homer?
Arguably this m istrust is as old as man, and w as Adam’s true motive for
seizing the apple. But in modem tim es it has gotten narrow er, so that the concern
is less for posterity than for one’s ow n next few weeks. (Eisenbergl7)
95
Marty Kelso: M istrust? Maybe. I’m a little m istrustful to begin with. But,
yeah. You’ve also got to understand that a lot o f the recordings I collect, and the
ones I bootleg, they’re all these moments from the past, for the most part. Ones I
missed the first time around. The Beatles. Older Bob Dylan material. Gram
Parsons, the Burritos. I wouldn’t get to hear any o f this stuff otherwise— because
the record companies aren’t releasing it. Hell, the record companies probably
don’t know about half o f this shit. In other cases, it m ight be stuff that I didn’t
miss, a show I was at, and, those, well, a recording can have a sentimental value,
can be a kind o f momento. So in that case what you’re preserving is a memory.
An aural memory. But it’s more than that. A good recording, especially a good
audience recording, captures the mood, the interplay betw een performer and
audience. Each performance is different, after all. A nd the performers who
attract me the m ost, the live performers in any case, they tend to be ones who vary
their performances. I mean, Bob Dylan, he’s incredible, he NEVER plays a song
the same way twice—I’m not sure if that’s intentional o r not—but he doesn’t.
So why is that interesting? Do I really need tw enty-one different versions o f
“Visions o f Johanna”? All twenty-nine studio takes o f The Beatles’ “Strawberry
Fields Forever”? Probably not. B ut do I w ant them all? Will I seek them out?
You’d better believe it! And I will listen to them all to o . For me, w hat’s
intriguing—it’s something about the process th at’s being captured... being
revealed. I mean, these are great songs w e’re talking about. Contemporary
classics. I ’m in awe o f their craft, and therefore I w ant to see the artist’s mind at
work, want to see the layers stripped away one at a tim e.
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Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen -

Lost in the Ozone- 1971
H ot Licks, Cold Steel and Truckers Favorites - 1972
Country Casanova -1973
Live from Deep in the H eart o f Texas - 1974
Commander Cody and his Lost Planet A irm en - 1975
Tales from the Ozone - 1976
Got a Live One Here - 1976
Rock and Roll Again - 1977
Flying Dreams -1978
Lose it Tonite —1980
see also Armadillo World Headquarters, Fonda LaBelle, The Cosmic American,
NYE 1980, Emmylou Harris, pseudonymity, V-Day.
Continental Club, The -

1315 South Congress Street, Austin, TX
Corner, The - Henry Peterson was a year ahead o f M arty Kelso in school. He was
in the eighth grade when M arty was in the seventh, and even then he hung around with
ninth graders mostly. Up at The Comer. The Com er was a well worn plot o f dirt, no
more than ten feet in diameter, overlooking the Dania M iddle School parking lot. It was
protected on one side by a chain-link fence and on the other by an enormous Banyan tree.
The fence, part o f some old lady’s backyard, turned a com er at this spot; hence, the
name. I f you followed the fence in one direction, you found yourself at the rear entrance
to the Middle School. In the other direction was a half mile o f woods and sand and
swamp. The Comer belonged to the burnouts. It’s where they went to cut classes and
97
smoke. Cigarettes always. P ot when they could get it. That fall, when M arty w as still
playing football for the junior varsity team, he’d had to pass The Com er every day on his
way across the parking lot to the playing fields. And he’d usually seen Henry up there—
w ith Randy M arvin and Tipsy Lewis and the Eckersley brothers and V ictor Lopez.
They’d intimidated Marty a little, intrigued him even more. He really couldn’t have
cared less about football. B ut he was big and broad-shouldered for his age, and Mr.
Kenney, Marty’s m ath teacher, w as the head coach. The guy ju st wouldn’t let up until
M arty had joined the team as a lineman.
Marty didn’t make m uch difference, though. The team still sucked. They
practiced in that oppressive South Florida heat, every day after school and Saturday
mornings when there wasn’t a game. They spent all that time and energy and pain, and
then they got their asses kicked. Every single tim e. They rarely even scored. M arty tried
to quit once, but it wasn’t until th e second tim e he tried, w ith his m other’s support, that
he succeeded. She’d been against his playing such a violent sport in the first place. By
Thanksgiving, M arty had returned his uniform and pads to a sullen Mr. Kenney.
Certainly, Renee Kelso had no idea what her son wanted to do w ith his afternoons
instead. At first he did very little. Watched television, maybe. Did some hom ew ork
when he could stand to. It w ould take time for him to break the ice with these characters.
By April 1969, however, he’d be reading The M iami Free Press. By May he’d be cutting
his seventh period classes on a regular basis. A nd he’d be watching the baseball team
cross the Middle School parking lot— along w ith his buddies at The Comer.
98
Cosmic Cowboy S o u ven ir-
Fonda LaBelle: Michael Murphy’s “I just want to be a Cosmic Cowboy,” was,
ironically, just as much an anthem for people as “let’s go to luckenback Texas
with Waylon and Willie and the Boys...” Later on, it got parodied with: ‘T’m Just
a Coca Cola Cowboy...”
see also Michael Murphey, The Monkees, The Austin Sun
Cosmic American Music —

Gram Parsons was hardly the first perform er to combine elements o f country music and
rock music. One need only look so far as Sun Studios in Memphis, for example, and
many o f the artists who recorded for Sam Phillips and Sun Records during the 50’s and
60’s: Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins. And, then, o f course, there was Jerry
Lee Lewis. Buddy Holly. Ray Charles (yes, Ray recorded several brilliant country-
blues-R&B records). But Parsons did help to re-popularize this genre, in much the same
way that Dylan helped to spark a folk revival in the early 60’s, though clearly Dylan
didn’t “invent” folk music!
Parsons is sometimes credited with being the first “country” musician to live like
a “rock” star. But th at’s not quite right either. During his stint w ith the Flying Burrito
brothers he wore glittery Nudie suits (and convinced the rest o f th e band to w ear them as
well). He drank to excess, smoked dope, dropped acid, snorted coke, and, eventually,
after spending much tim e with Rolling Stone Keith Richards, began shooting heroin. He
also died like a rock star, over-dosing in a m otel room in Joshua Tree, California a t the
99
age o f 26. Yet even this “rock & roll” life style, taken by itselfj was not all that
“original” for a country musician. H ank Williams partied hard and died young in a
similar fashion. Gram Parsons wasn’t the first rock & roller to wear flashy costum es (see
James Brown, Tina Turner, Mick Jagger), and he certainly wasn’t the first country boy to
wear Nudie suits. “N udie” Cohen, the world famous Hollywood rodeo tailor, whom
Gram befriended in 1969, had been been outfitting country & western stars w ith his
flashy sequined suits since the days o f Roy Rogers, and during the 50s and 60s a number
o f more “contemporary” country stars— such as Buck Owens and Porter W agoner—
donned Nudie suits before Gram did.
But Gram Parsons can be credited with bringing this “country-rock” convergence
to his own generation, to the sixties youth culture, to The Movement— and doing so w ith
style, grace, charisma, and a rebellious spirit. He was well educated in American roots
music—country, blues, folk, gospel— and he was a brilliant songwriter and perform er in
his own right.
Gram disliked m ost o f the labels given to his music by the press. “Progressive
Country,” “Continental Country,” and even “Country Rock,” were all genre
classifications he shunned.
“Country-rock plastic dry-fuck,” was his response one interviewer who had used
the term. He preferred to call his style “Cosmic American Music”— although that term
never really caught on.
G ram : Country music started hitting me big tim e ‘cause I started hanging w ith
these freaks and I realized th at I could do that too and that people were not so
100
hung up on sick m usic as I thought. There was a little bit o f room for funk and so
I got th at crazy idea again.
Q: W hat did you classify then as “sick” music?
Gram: Bubble gum music, as opposed to the sort o f folk bubble gum music at
the tim e. But there w as a lot o f imagery type m ind-garden stuff going on then.
That w as really boring, and I started getting into a thing and we w ere close to
Bonnie and Delaney. We were close not only m usically, but in our heads we
were close. They w ere always pulling us aside and saying how much country
music meant and it w as important that somebody did it. Almost like sort of
swearing on mama’s old Bible that we mean it, th at w e’re not just drunk and
saying it, but listen pal, you got to keep doing this, and so we kept doing it, ‘cause
things like that really mean a lot. It’s the next best thing to money. It’s better
than money, but you can’t eat it. It’s almost like w hat ole Delaney said, “you
can’t be all bad if you try to do something for country music,” ‘cause it’s a
beautiful idiom that’s been overlooked so much and many people have the wrong
idea about it, I just can’t believe it, when you say country music to people what
some people think, w hat they haven’t listened to and what they’ve missed.
-interview by Chuck Cassell, in the liner notes to Last o f the R ed Hot
Burritos, 1972
see also Gram Parsons, Cosmic Cowboys, Progressive Country, Rusty Bell, Hippies
versus Freaks, Gumby
101
Cosmic American, The -

A mysterious Rhinestone Disc Jockey for KOOK-FM who first appeared on the Texas
airwaves in November o f 1980. He made several “live” appearances during the m onth
o f December, calling upon the citizens o f Austin to help save the Armadillo W orld
Headquarters and performing various radio stunts on-location, but always in a costum e
which included a Lone Ranger-type mask, so as to preserve his anonymity. D espite the
efforts o f The Cosmic American and many others, the Armadillo closed its doors forever
on January 1, 1981.
COW Pies - derogatory term for “cowboy-hippies,” coined by Carl Stoldtman. See
also Cosmic Cowboys, Cosmo Cowboys, Hippie Rednecks.
Cut-Outs -
There are three main concerns for the serious record collector: Time, patience, and
money. M arty Kelso had plenty o f time, and some patience, but, in late 1969, money
was getting to be an issue. Selling copies o f The Free Press was getting old, and besides,
there was a limit to how much cash you could bring in during any given week. So Uncle
Jimmie had promised the kids a ride to the West Palm Beach International Pop Festival if
they agreed to put in a couple o f afternoons w orth o f work at the warehouse—fo r which
they’d be paid as well. M arty w ouldn’t normally have wanted to w ork that hard o n the
days before Thanksgiving break, but it was going to be worth it, he thought, and besides,
the holidays this year were going to be weird, what w ith his parents separation and
102
everything. His m other was cooking a turkey as usual, and the whole family was going
to be together at the same table, despite the fact th at his father had only just moved o u t a
w eek ago.
He and Henry cut their 6th and 7th period classes on Tuesday and Wednesday in
order to spend those afternoons at Palmetto Corp w ith Jimmie. They spent the first
afternoon re-arranging boxes o f cut-out records in the warehouse. Cut-outs were
leftovers, essentially. Excess inventory that was priced to sell. The album covers w ere
literally and physically “cut” in order to distinguish them as such and to guarantee that
the product could not be re-sold at full price. Sometimes one com er o f the album cover
w as snipped off; other times a three-quarter inch divot was sliced into the cardboard w ith
a band-saw. Gold Coast Communications was a subsidiary o f Palm etto Corp, and
functioned as what Jimmie called an “inventory asset management firm.” They’d
purchase excess inventory from one company for a combination o f cash and credit (but
m ostly credit) and then arrange trades with other companies for other unsold goods.
G ood old fashioned bartering. This is how Jimmie could end up w ith record albums one
day, and refrigerator magnets the next. Anything that didn’t get rack-jobbed or traded in
bulk got liquidated, which in most cases meant that it went to M arty’s dad who would
sell it at the swap m eet. Marty hadn’t realized until now that Fran the Man was so low
on the feeding chain, and it made him a little sad, although the price was right, Jimmie
assured him, and the profits were substantial.
But this w as only the beginning, and on that day before Thanksgiving Marty got
his first real glimpse up what his Uncle Jimmie and Palmetto Corp w ere really up to.
Jimmie opened up a bunch o f boxes full o f cutouts, a lot o f MCA product, and showed
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them to the boys. Then he took them into another section o f the warehouse and pulled a
box o ff the top o f the pallet. He opened that one up and pulled an album out. Same title
as the others he’d show n them, but it wasn’t a cut out. Yet.
“I got a job for you boys,” he said, and proceeded to set them up in the back room
with a table saw and the pallet M l o f perfectly good album covers. M arty couldn’t
understand it at first. Why would he want to cut-out a bunch o f albums in mint
condition? He understood the premise o f cut-outs, from the standpoint o f the m ajor
records companies. And he understood that probably, w ith certain titles, it didn’t m atter,
really, whether they had been disfigured o r not. The going price was the going price.
But surely some people would pay m ore for albums w ithout the marking. And, in any
case, why should som ebody in his uncle’s position take the time to sit here in the back
room w ith a table saw, cutting out a truckload o f already discounted LPs?
“To avoid suspicion,” Jimmie explained.
“Suspicion o f w hat?’ Marty w anted to know. Well, vanity always got the best o f
his Uncle Jimmie. He ju st stood their grinning, proudly, like a bad little boy, and then he
showed them He to o k one o f the cutout covers and one o f the as-yet-to-be-cutout
covers and held the tw o side by side.
“All right,” he said. “What do you think?”
“One’s got a chunk taken out o f it,” said Henry.
“Anything else?”
“One’s slightly darker,” Marty said.
“Just barely,” said Henry.
“This one,” said Jimmie.
104
“The ones you want us to cut out.”
“Precisely,” he said. “Just so nobody gets to wondering about their authenticity.”
There was a pressing plant up in Jacksonville, Jimmie explained. The guy who
ran it was a greedy little bastard. I f your money w as green, he wasn’t asking a lot o f
questions. So Palm etto had started running o ff their own copies. For every shipment o f
cutouts they purchased, they w ould press another. And nobody would ever be the
wiser. So long as they continued to distribute them as overstock. Granted, cutouts were
cheap to begin with, but pirated copies were even cheaper. Palmetto Corp was making a
killing!
D
Daily Planet / Miami Free Press -
K C ! N l Y t 9SO.-5 fS Y C H C ’M M HOT* .
/*<*'
m &QjaG3av&o&
HELLO - I AMTHE HEW HAUOONATINg)
MIAMI FREE PRESS ( t h a t 's w»» t y o u )
TAKE ME HOME
I AMYOUR FRIEND
M arty wasn’t sure why his parents ever m arried. From everything he’d ever heard, his
m other’s family was against the match from the start. Francis Xavier? The man had
chosen three years in the N avy over a college education, and he was a Catholic. They
106
didn’t need or w ant to know any m ore than that. To this day, M arty’s Uncle Jimmie
maintained that the m arriage w as simply Renee K elso’s hasty and myopic way o f
“getting even” w ith her parents, her first and only act o f nonconformity.
Marty’s own non-conform ist behavior began around 1969, which, to his fourteen-
year-old glee, was a year o f nudity and drugs and obscenity, o f M orrison and M anson
and Jagger. For the m ost part, he only read about it— in the pages o f the M iami Free
Press. And he was fascinated. By columns like PARANOID RAP and THE
SWINGING HEADHUNTER. Comic strips like THE FABULOUS FURRY FREAK
BROTHERS and NANCY KOTEX: HIGH SCHOOL NURSE. H e looked at
advertisements for FAT ANGEL RECORDS and THE PSYCHEDELIC SHACK. For
STRAP-ON RUBBER HEALTH M ATES and MEXICAN SPANISH FLY. The Free
Press was hip and it was strange and it was underground—and it w as only twenty-five
cents per issue. Fifty cents, the fine print announced, “Beyond the gravitational pull.”
It cost seventy-five cents on the sun. A bum .
At Marty’s age, reading The Free Press was like spying through the keyhole o f a
locked door, one leading to a very adult world. And not the w orld o f his parents either.
Adults like them read The Miami H erald. His mom actually believed that journalist, for
example, who claimed he saw The D oors’ Jim M orrison drop his pants onstage at the
Dinner Key Auditorium. Saw him flex his cock in front o f twelve thousand teenagers.
M arty would never forget how satisfied she was, how smug, when that article led to a
decency rally sponsored by Jackie G leason and others she called “real” Americans.
But the Free Press, like M orrison, questioned these charges. They challenged
sources for the city who claimed they had photographs o f Jim holding his exposed
107
member. Where w as it then, this evidence? And why hadn’t the police m ade an arrest
during or after the actual concert? Wasn’t it true that the charges had been filed only
after parents started making a stink about the rumors they’d been hearing? M orrison’s
own explanation w as that the appearance o f his penis had been a mass hallucination.
Some kind o f pseudo-hysterical phenomenon. Still, it wouldn’t have m attered to the
Miami Free Press if he had whipped it out. Even if he’d assaulted a cop w ith it, they
would have backed him up. Particularly if he had. This w as Freak Pow er you were
talking about. Jim bo Versus The Fat Cat Judge. This wasn’t about obscenity. It was
about revolution. HELP LEGALIZE PORNOGRAPHY, read an ad in The Press for
Figure Art M art. COM E IN FO R FREE COFFEE AND LET’S RAP ABOUT IT.
And then one evening in May, only a week before the Big Rock Pow Wow, Marty
came downstairs to dinner and found his m other holding a copy o f The Miami Free Press.
“I’d like you to explain to m e,” she said, “what you’re doing w ith god knows how
many copies o f this filth stockpiled in your room .”
Jimmie and M arty’s dad w ere already seated at the table, a couple o f beers in
front o f them, and they seemed to be keeping their m ouths shut.
“It’s not filth, Mom. It’s free speech. It’s—”
“N o tfilth ?!” she said. “Excuse me, young man...” She the w aved the newspaper
in her husband’s face. He took it, opened it, started reading, evaluating the evidence.
And he was smirking as he began to read aloud from the classified section: “SPLIT
BEAVER SPECIAL. 128 PAGES. ALL COLOR. FO R THOSE W HO SAVOR
REALITY AND A R E NOT AFRAID OF THE UNINHIBITED. SEEIN G IS
BELIEVING...”
108
Renee Kelso gasped melodramatically.
“It’s just an ad!” Marty said. “They have stu ff like that in the back o f The
Herald.”
“They most certainly do not,” she said, and snatched the paper from her
husband’s hands.
“N or do they have ads like this: TURN ON W ITH THE FAMOUS TRIP-OUT
BOOK. SURE-FIRE FORMULAS TO MAKE HASH FROM LEGAL CHEMICALS.
MAKE PEYOTE, DM T, CANNABIS, MESCALINE, LSD, ETC. DO IT NOW . SEND
$2 TO TRIPSUNLIM ITED. And there’s an address here.”
She continued to stare at the page.
“And this,” she said. “My God. This I can’t even read out lo u d ”
“Give it here,” said Jimmie. She banded it to him, let her arm and the paper fell,
as if she could barely stand the weight o f it any longer. “INSTANT PUSSY,” Jimmie
read. “IN KEEPING W ITH THE MODERN TREND WE HAVE DEVELOPED A
PRODUCT WHICH W E CALL INSTANT PUSSY. JUST DEPOSIT IT IN ANY KIND
OF DRINK. 8 CAPSULES FOR FIVE DOLLARS. MAILED IN PLAIN SEALED
BROWN ENVELOPE. BOX 4357-B POSTAL STATION “D” HAMILTON,
ONTARIO, CANADA.”
“Garbage!” she cried. “Pure Filth!” She snatched the paper away from Uncle
Jimmie and threw it into the wastebasket. Marty w ent over and retrieved it. He opened
it up and started turning pages furiously, looking for something, anything in his defense.
To her, he read: “THERE ARE MORE WORDS MISSPELLED IN THE MIAMI
109
HERALD THAN IN THE MIAMI FREE PRESS AND W E U SE BETTER WORDS!
SO READ THE MIAMI FREE PRESS TO BE CULTURED.”
“That’s enough!” she said.
Marty looked to his father and Uncle Jimmie for support. These guys were no
angels after all. They should understand.
“She’s had enough,” M arty’s father said, ever so subtly winking with his right
eye, the one they both knew was out o f M arty’s m other’s line o f vision.
“Lemme see it again,” said Jimmie, holding out his hand. Jimmie started reading
and letting forth little snorts o f amusement.
“Check it out,” he said. “LOST. A FRIENDLY BLONDE MUTT
ANSWERING TO THE NAME PUFFY (A DOG). AREA 8TH STREET & 63RD CT.
REWARD SEM I INTRINSIC. CALL 661-7503.”
“Semi- w hat!” M arty said.
His father chuckled. “A dog!”
“That’s lovely,” said his mother. “Just lovely.”
“OPEN CROTCH PLAYING CARDS,” read Jimmie. “FRENCH TICKLERS.”
Marty’s m other storm ed out o f the kitchen, and the three men smiled at one
another. Fran Kelso wouldn’t be smiling later.
Dead Young Cowboys —

An early Austin “cow-punk” band, formed by ex-Floorbird H ank Pete & several o f his
former bandmates, after the bottom fell out o f the Progressive Country music. The band
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never recorded an “official” album, although they had just signed a contract with Big Six
Records when—on December 8, 1980— Hank Pete disappeared in Joshua Tree,
California. Little known at the time, the D ead Young Cowboys are now legendary, both
for their ground-breaking blend o f country and punk, and for the energy o f their live
performances (many o f which have been preserved by bootleggers).
1 h e 1 O t ’i i r / Y<© u /7
1310 S t.
Ill
Selected Discography o f Essential D ead Young Cowboys Bootleg Recordings:
10-16-78 The Den —Austin, TX / AUD / B or B+

10-22-78 Hole in the Wall —A ustin, TX [opening fo r the Peggy Suicides] / AUD / A-
10-30-78 Shecky’s - Dallas, TX / AUD / B+
10-31-78 Shecky’s —Dallas, TX / AUD / B+ [Halloween Show, w / The Peggy Suicides,
The External Genital O rgans, The Jacked Rubies] / SBD / A or A-
11-05-78 R aul’s —Austin, TX / AUD / incomplete show / AUD / B+
12-21-78 The Bowery —Oklahoma City, OK / AUD / B+
12-22-78 Student Commons -Oklahoma State University / AUD / A- [20 minutes only -
show cut short by local authorities]
12-31-78 “Bigfoot” Gerlach’s uncle’s cabin —Lake Travis, Austin, TX [private NYE
party, w / the Peggy Suicides] /AUD / A
01-20-79 ABC Liquor Lounge —N. Lamar BLVD, Austin, TX / AUD / B or B+
07-04-79 The Peggy Suicides’ Fourth o f July Picnic —East A ustin, TX / SBD / A-
09-09-79 Duke’s Royal Coach Inn —Austin, TX / SBD / A
10-15-79 R aul’s —Austin, TX / AUD / B or B-
10-20-79 Hole in the Wall —A ustin, T X / AUD / C - or D -[very poor sound quality—
only for the faithful]
03-29-80 Christopher’s - San Antonio, TX / AUD / B or B+
08-21-80 Cracky’s Place —El Paso, TX / AUD / B or B+
10-11-80 Duke’s Royal Coach Inn —Austin, TX / SBD / A or A-
10-18-80 Duke’s Royal Coach Inn —Austin, TX / SBD / A or A-
11-17-80 Duke’s Royal Coach Inn —Austin, TX / SBD / A or A - [last show ever!]
11-??-80 Hank Pete Home Demos / ST / A-
11 -??-80 DYC band rehearsals / ST / A-
December 8,1980 -
M arty Kelso spent the day John Lennon died filling a m otel swimming pool with
homemade chicken soup. The job w as more o f a hassle than he’d expected, and more
time consuming. The hard part— he’d thought— was going to be swimming the fifty laps
in an Olympic sized swimming pool, something he’d never done before. But the pool-full
o f lukewarm soup: that was just a stunt. A gimmick. The kind o f oddball thing you had
to do for publicity if you wanted to keep your job at the radio station. Y ou couldn’t do
Progressive Country in Austin these days and not pull a stunt like this from time to time.
112
Because you ju st couldn’t get the kind o f support you needed— the kind o f money—
without some serious prom otion. O f course, you couldn’t do Progressive Country in
Austin these days, period—even if you did pull a stunt like this— because the music was
getting less and less “progressive” all the time. O r else it was progressive where it should
be regressive, regressive where it should be progressive.
Which is to say, The Cosmic American definitely had his work cut out for him.
KOOK was easy to miss, at the low end o f the FM dial, sandwiched between the UT
station and a Fundamentalist channel. Stoldtman had been putting the screw s to him
lately, telling him he’d better start raising more than a few eyebrows out there in the
community. Which meant, o f course, getting his ass out o f the studio and onto the street,
as it were.
“Sometimes,” Stoldtm an said, “you have to be seen to be heard.”
But M arty had sadly deluded himself about the price o f chicken soup by the
truckload. Just last week, he’d taken a drive out to Sysco with his pal Willie Bowers
from programming. Sysco had sixty ounce cans by the case, and then they had these
white plastic pickle buckets that held two or three gallons. The best deal, they said,
would be the buckets by the pallet. How many pallets would it take to fill a pool? A
single pallet looked like it w ould barely fill a hot tub. How many hot tubs in an olympic-
size swimming pool? A hundred? A thousand? M arty called the University o f Texas
and they told him theirs m easured a regulation twenty-five by seventy-five m eters. And,
no, they hadn’t the slightest interest in letting him fill it with broth and poultry. M arty
spoke to three high school principals and two city park superintendents. Even the one
who took him seriously said no. So he spent another two days with the phone book
113
before he found a private school in nearby Taylor who said they’d be willing to let him
use their pool but did he know how many gallons he was talking about? Marty said no,
and they said they didn’t know either, but maybe he ought to think about that first. He
called AquaPro and they said to multiply the length times the w idth tim es the average
depth times seven point four-nine and that would give him the num ber o f gallons. Which
he did, though he’d never been good at math, and came up with something like one-
million, four-hundred-forty-two thousand, six-hundred and tw enty-eight (point nine)
gallons.
Marty mentioned this to Willie who said, “Why’s it got to be Olympic size?”
“Because,” M arty said. “That’s what I said on the radio.”
“So what? Somebody’s going to have a tape measure? Ju st find yourself a
rectangular pool, amigo. The shallower the better. Tell them you m eant Olympic
shaped.”
They finally settled for the pool in the courtyard o f the Rio Royale M otor Inn,
which is close to N orth Lamar Boulevard and a lot o f people. E ven better, the pool had
already been drained for repairs. B ut even at seventy-five by twenty-five by an average
depth o f four feet, they were dealing with over fifty-six thousand gallons. An
improvement, to be sure, but still too many pickle buckets to fit th eir budget. So after
much deliberation, and page after page o f bad m ath, M arty decided to make the soup
from scratch.
Willie offered to get his Grandma’s recipe, but Marty told him not to bother.
“Let’s keep it simple,” he said. “We’ll m ake a broth. Toss in some carrots,
celery, maybe some rice.”
114
“She uses potatoes,” Willie said.
“Just as long as it looks like soup from a distance,” M arty said. “I really don’t
give a damn.”
Willie’s grandm a always boiled a chicken carcass to make the broth, but Marty
and Willie both agreed that carcasses would be getting too involved. They simply needed
broth—or the appearance o f broth. I f nothing else the color. Willie suggested Bordan’s
Instant Chicken Boullion, which sounded good in theory, though M arty had only ever
seen it in those little blue foil-wrapped cubes. But a call to Sysco yielded Sysco-brand
Instant by the sack-full (your choice o f artificial beef or chicken flavoring). Five ten-
pound sacks, M arty figured, would do the trick. He was really improvising now. This
only set the station back about twenty-five bucks, but the Sysco rep w arned Marty that
powdered condensed stock wouldn’t fully integrate unless you stirred it briskly in hot
water.
Since there was no way M arty was going to swim laps in hot soup, he and Willie
had to do their cooking the day before the event. They ran a garden hose from the
bathroom o f the Rio Royale m anager’s apartment and cranked up the hot water. It was
Willie’s job to pitch cupfuls o f the pow der into the pool as it filled. They had several
oars on hand that W illie had managed to borrow from a camp counselor he’d dated over
at Lake Travis. He w ore a pair o f rubber waders and until the level rose above two and a
half feet or so, he w as able to walk around in there and stir with the w ooden oar. After
that he had to get out and walk around the perimeter, leaning over and trying to make a
wake that would ripple from one edge to the other. Meantime M arty w as chopping
vegetables and dumping them, one cutting board at a tim e, into the mix.
115
It was around midnight when they heard the news. They were listening to their
very own Jumeaux Twins, Ginger & Tabouli, on KOOK. The girls w ere playing “A Day
in the Life,” o ff o f Set. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club B and. John Lennon’s voice filled
the courtyard o f the Rio Royale—haunting, loving, telling all. Followed by strings: an
Abbey Road studio-full. Perfect sync in the key o f chaos, building and building to that
famous “never-ending chord.” Which did end, of course, and was replaced by the sad but
sultry voice o f Tabouli Jumeaux.
‘1 DON’T KNOW HOW TO SAY IT,” she said. “SO I’M JUST GOING TO
SAY IT. JOHN LENNON IS NO LONGER WITH U S. HE WAS SHOT AND
KILLED THIS EVENING IN FRONT OF HIS OWN APARTMENT BUILDING IN
NEW YORK CITY, N EA R CENTRAL PARK. POLICE HAVE APPREHENDED A
25-YEAR-OLD W HITE MALE FROM HAWAII. HE IS CURRENTLY BEING HELD
IN ISOLATION AT THE MANHATTAN CRIMINAL COURT BUILDING. WE
WILL CONTINUE TO UPDATE YOU ON THIS TERRIBLE TRAGEDY, JUST AS
SOON AS MORE INFORMATION BECOMES AVAILABLE, BUT FO R NOW I’D
LIKE TO ASK YOU TO JOIN ME IN A MOMENT OF SILENCE.
Tabouli knew how to use dead air on the radio the way a poet used white space on
the page. Tonight she used every pause like a requiem. M arty thought he heard her
whisper: “Sugar plum fa iry ”— as the flute-like opening chords o f “Straw berry Fields”
drifted out from under her breath.
M arty looked at Willie, and Willie looked at him, and neither o f them said a word.
Could it be another B eatles death hoax? An image o f John Lennon popped into Marty’s
head, a W hite Album John. Then a Double Fantasy John. A Rubber Soul John. He felt
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sweat drip dow n the front o f his shirt, down the back o f his neck. It wasn’t hot out there;
in fact, it w as getting a little windy and cold. But M arty w as sweating like crazy. He
pulled o ff his t-shirt and w iped his face w ith it. The cotton smelled like chicken broth,
see also John Lennon, M ark David Chapman, Room #8
Austin Amcrican-Statcsman cold and windy
Lennon’s killing stuns world

Austin mourns Murder
Lennon slaying charges
filed
S a S F - John’s intenfiew tells

about love for Yoko
~ liis s s E
117
Derek & the Dominos -

M ay 1970 to A p ril 1971.
Eric Clapton (guitar/vocals); Carl Radle (bass); Jim Gordon (drums); Bobby W hitlock
(keyboards/vocals); Duanne Allman (guitar).
Derek was Eric.
The band only cut two albums, Layla and O ther Assorted Love Songs and In Concert,
before Clapton retreated into a self-imposed heroin exile w hich lasted until 1974.
The w hole thing w as... assumed. So it couldn’t last. I had to come out and admit
that I w as being me. I mean, being D erek was a cover for the fact that I was
trying to steal someone else’s wife. T hat was one o f the reasons for doing it,so
that I could write the song, and even use another name for Patti [Harrison]. So
Derek and Layla—it wasn’t real at all.
-Eric Clapton, in Musician M agazine
see also Layla & Majnun, Pseudonymity.
Dictators, The -
early New Y ork punk band, form ed in 1974.
Handsome D ick M anitoba (vocals); Ross the B oss (guitar); Scott “Top Ten” Kemper
(guitar, vocals); Andy Shemoflf (keyboards, vocals); M ark M endoza (bass, vocals);
Ritchie Teeter (drums).
Dinner Key Auditorium —see The Daily Planet, Miami Free Press, Jim
Morrison, Renee Kelso.
Don’t You Think This Outlaw Bit Has Done Got Out of Hand
Waylon Jennings’ 1976 ballad about the “plight” o f the Outlaw M ovement. He had
recently been busted in his own recording studio for possession o f cocaine, and he
attributed the “attention” o f the local authorities to his new “image” created by
Progressive Country marketing.
“Do You Remember Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio?” - W ritten and perform ed
by The Ramones.
I t ’s the end, the end o f the seventies.
I t ’s the end, the end o f the century.
Dr. Brinkley - Doctor “B,” the grandaddy o f B order Blasters, whose infamous
radio station, XER, with its colossal transm itter in Villa Acuna, illegally broadcast AM
radio waves across the Mexican border into Texas and half the United States. See also
Border Radio, Heard it on the X, Wolfman Jack, The Cosmic American.
Drinking Age in Austin During the Seventies - Lowered to eighteen in
Texas on August 27, 1973!
119
Duke’s Royal Coach Inn —

316 Congress Street, Austin, TX
Opened on the same exact site as the old Vulcan Gas Company. Largely a venue for
punk and new wave bands during the late seventies. H ank Pete wanted to get his own
graffiti tombstone up on th e wall in back, ju st like Terminal M ind and all the other local
bands w ho’d gone extinct in Austin.
Dylan, Bob
Selected Discography o f Essential Dylan Bootleg Recordings:
1961-1967 “Great White Wonder” (mostly o f historical interest: this is generally considered to be
the 1“ bootleg o f the rock era. Released July ’69.
05-??-61 Minnesota Tapes. Disc 1 - live demos / B+
03-11-62 Folksinger’s Choice - (radio show w/ interviews by Cynthia Gooding) / FM / A
07-02-62 Finjan Club - Montreal, Canada - / A- or B+-
??-??-62? Gaslight Tapes - Gaslight Cafe, NYC- live / B+ or A-
1962 Freewheelin’ Outtakes / A-
1962-63 Gerdes ’ Folk City - NYC ‘62 / The Bear - Chicago ’63 / A- or B+
02-08-63 The Banio Tape (w/ Happy Traum) / Gil Turner’s home recording, NYC / A-
04-02-63 At Town Hall —the Complete Concert (multi-sources) A- to B
05-03-63 Studs Terkel’s Wax Museum —Chicago, IL (broadcast by WFMT radio) / FM
1962-64 The Witmark Years (publisher’s demos) / ST / A
1964-65 As Good As It Gets: The Ultimate Emmet Grogan Acetates / ST / A
1964-65 Folk Rogue—Newport Folk Festival, etc. A- to B+
04-14-65 Long Distance Operator - w/ The Hawks - Berkeley Community Center, CA / B
05-07-65 Now Ain’t the Time For Your Tears: Free Trade Hall, Manchester, UK / A-
1965-66 Thin Wild Mercury Music - studio outtakes / B+
1966 Genuine Live 1966 (14 LP box set)
*13 Apr 66 / Sydney Stadium - Sydney, Australia (16 tracks)
* 20 Apr 66 / Festival Hall - Melbourne, Australia (9 tracks)
* 22 Apr 66 / Adelaide Interview (1 track)
* 5 May 66 / Adelphi Theater - Dublin, Ireland (7 tracks)
* 1 May 66 / KB Hallen Hall - Copenhagen, Denmark (1 track)
* 20 May 66 / ABC Theater —Edinburgh, Scotland (2 tracks)
* 14 May 66 / Odeon Theatre - Liverpool, England (10 tracks)
* 19 May 66 / hotel room - Glasgow, Scotland (2 tracks)
* 16 May 66 / Gaumont Theater - Sheffield, England (9 tracks)
* 13 May 66 / Odeon Theater - Birmingham, England (1 track)
* 17 May 66/ Free Trade Flail —Manchester, England (5 tracks)
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* 26 May 66 / Royal Albert Hall —London, England (6 tracks)

* 27 May 66 / Royal Albert Hall - London, England (7 tracks)
* 19 or 26 Jan 66 / WBAI-FM radio show w/ Bab Faas (1 track)
04-13-66 First Time Around —Sydney Stadium- Sydney, Australia / SBD - mono / A-
04-19/20-66 Melbourne ’66 —Melbourne, Australia / multiple sources? / B+ to A- / incomplete show
04-29-66 Konsert-huset —Stockholm, Sweden / AUD / C- or D
05-06-66 Adelphi Theatre (Dublin, Eire) (4 songs, acoustic); (LIVE IN ENGLAND MAY 1966
boot / Back Trax 04-88002 [T-124])
05-15-66 DeMontfort Hall —Leicester, UK / AUD / B- or C+?
05-17-66 Guitars Kissing & The Contemporary Fix - Manchester Free Trade Hall, Manchester,
England / A
05-27-66 Before the Crash. Vol.l - Royal Albert Hall, London - acoustic set only / B+
1967 West Saugerties, NY - The Complete Genuine Basement Tapes / 5 LPs /
1-20-68 Woody Guthrie Tribute (3 songs w/ The Band - live) / A
1969 Dylan / Cash Sessions - live & studio outtakes / A-
1969 Isle o f Wight Festival (w/ The Band)
?-?-70 Almost Went to See Elvis - studio outtakes /B+ or A-
08-01-71 Madison Square Garden (Concert for Bangladesh) B+ or A-
1973 Pecos Blues (Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid outtakes) / ST / A-
9-??-74 Blood On the Tracks outtakes - studio / A-
02-14-74 Paint the Daytime Black - L.A. Forum / A
03-23-75 The Prophet & the Clown - Kezar Stadium, Golden Gate Park - San Francisco, CA -
SNACK Benefit -live, w/ Neil Young and The Band / FM? / B+, but with low volume
levels on a lot o f the vocal mics, particularly Dylan’s
10-31-75 PLYMOUTH ROCK / War memorial Auditorium - Plymouth, MA / SBD? / A
11-21-75 Boston Music Hall, etc. - Rolling Thunder Tour / B+
(Get Ready! Tonight Bob’s Staving Here With You bootleg)
11-11-75 SATISFIED MAN / Palace Theater - Waterbury, CT / SBD?/ A?
11-21-75 Cowboy Angel Blues / Music Hall, Boston, MA / A
12-8—75 Knight of the Hurricane - MSG, NYC / A to A-
12-??-75 FLAGG IN' DOWN THE DOUBLE E'S - Maple Leaf Gardens,Toronto / AUD / B+
1975-76 SONGS FOR PA'ITY VALENTINE (Desire-era outtakes and live) B+ to A-
1975-76 Renaldo & Clara (unofficial soundtrack)
01-23-76 THE DAYS BEFORE THE HURRICANE / S.I.R. Rehearsals - L.A. / B+
04-22-76 The Hidden TV Shows - Bellevue Bilim ore Hotel, Florida - / SBD / A
04-??-76 The Days Before HARD RAIN (tour rehearsals) / Bellevue Biltmore Hotel —
Clearwater, FL / A or A-
05-01-76 HIGHWAY 49 REVISITED / Reid Green Colliseum -Hattiesburg, MI /AUD /B+
05-03-76 LIVE AT THE WAREHOUSE/ New Orleans, LA -
05-16-76 Hold the Fort (Lock Up the Warehouse) -Rolling Thunder Revue II / SBD / A-
01-30-78 Darkness at the Break ofNoon /Santa Monica, CA -Rundown Studios -tour rehearsals/A-
11-29-80 Rise Again - Seattle, WA- / AUD / B+
see also Nashville Skyline, Basement Tapes, Floorbirds, Rolling Thunder Revue,
Pseudonymity
E
Ely, Joe -
M usta Notta Gotta Lotta - 1981
Live Shots —1980
Down On The Drag —1979
Honky Tonk M asquerade -1978
Joe E ly -1 9 7 7
Joe Ely./Honky Tonk Masquerade -1 9 7 7
see also The Flatlanders; Lubbock, Texas.
Erikson, Roky - (pronounced “Rocky”)
Singer-songwriter and guitarist for the 13th Floor Elevators, one o f Austin’s first and
foremost psychedelic rock and roll bands. A heavy acid-tripper, Roky was committed
to Rusk State Hospital for the Criminally Insane tow ard the end o f the sixties, where he
was given elecroshock treatm ents. Roky re-surfaced during the early seventies, playing a
122
few live gigs with D oug Sahm’s Sir Douglas Q uintet, and recorded several solo albums
produced by Stu Cook o f Credence Clearwater Revivial. He continued to drift in and out
o f Texas State Hospitals. During the late-seventies he put in a num ber o f live
performances at Raul’s w ith Austin punk/new w avers The Explosives as his backing
band.
see Thirteenth Floor Elevators, Vulcan Gas Company, Armadillo World
Headquarters, Raul’s, The Explosives.
Ersatz -
Fonda LaBelle: By the 70’s cowboys w ere driving trucks and working feeding
lots and rodeos... and there came to be this constant tension between what was
real and w hat w as ersatz. Sometimes th e ersatz was celebrated in a sort o f
pissing in the wind kind o f way... but, at any rate, there was always confusion
about what a cowboy “really” was...
see also the Monkees, Ziggy Stardust, Performance, Mysterious Rhinestone
Cowboy, the Sex Pistols, pseudonymity
Exile O il Main Street - One o f the greatest rock and roll double LPs o f all time,
right up there with Blonde On Blonde. The W hite Album, and Lavla & Other Assorted
Love Songs. It has often been alleged that Gram Parsons (who w as hanging out w ith
Keith Richards at a rented mansion in France, where m ost o f E xile was recorded) had
some influence on the country-blues stylings o f the album.
123
The Explosives -
Freddi “Steady ” K rc (drums, vocals); W aller Collie (bass, vocals); Cam King (guitar,
vocals). Like Hank Pete and the Floorbirds, The Explosives had a rough time gaining
acceptance from harcore punk enthusiasts because they w ere perceived as being too
“slick,” largely due to their previous experience as “professional” musicians. Before
joining The Explosives in the late-seventies, Cam King had been a Progressive Country
singer/songwriter/musician in Austin. The others had played blues with the likes o f
B. W. Stevenson. The band’s “cross-over,” got a helpful little shove, however, when
they teamed-up with psychedelic garage-band guru, Roky Erikson.
see also Raul’s, Roky Erikson
F
Fame-
1. Public estimation; 2. reputation; 3. popular acclaim; 4. reknown;
5. archaic: rumor
- Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary
6. Fame requires every kind o f excess. I m ean true fame, a devouring neon, not
the somber renown o f waning statesmen or chinless kings. I mean long journeys
across gray space. I mean danger, the edge o f every void, the circumstance o f one
naan imparting an erotic terro r to the dreams o f the republic. Understand the man
who must inhabit these extrem e regions, m onstrous and vulval, damp with
memories o f violation. Even if half-mad he is absorbed into the public’s total
madness; even if folly rational, a bureaucrat in hell, a secret genius o f survival, he
is sure to be destroyed by the public’s contempt for survivors. Fame, this special
kind, feeds itself on outrage, on what the counselors o f lesser men would consider
bad publicity—hysteria in limousines, knife fights in the audience, bizarre
litigation, treachery, pandemonium and drugs. Perhaps the only natural law
attaching to true fame is that the famous man is compelled, eventually, to commit
suicide.
(Is it clear I was a hero o f rock ‘n ’ roll?)
- Don Delillo, Great Jones Street (1973)
7. [When a rock and roll band starts out] they are desperate for fens, gagging for
them. Anyone who shows the slightest smidgeon o f interest is immediately
clasped to the band’s bosom. They play what song’s you like onstage, they give
you lifts home, they buy you drinks and put you on their guest lists, even if there’s
only two people in the audience... Then suddenly things change. The band gets a
little success, say at the stage where they’re playing universities and just
breaching the Top 40, and fens suddenly becom e an irritant unless the band is
sleeping with them.”
-John Aizehvood, Love is the Drug: Living as a Pop Fan, p.xii
125
see also Ideal Hero, Ideal Recording, Anonymity, Pseudonymity
The First Annual Armadillo Open Championship -

A typical Progressive Country radio Stunt, M C’d by KEXL Disc Jockey, Allen Grimm.
This event drew 5,000 Lone Star-guzzling yahoos to San Antonio, where 200 entrants
raced their pet armadillos, a couple o f dozen at a time. The fastest ones w ere also the
least tame, some having been picked out o f garbage dumps just the day before. Their
owners decked them out in costumes and glitter, painted four-letter w ords on their backs,
and gave them names like Silver Diller, Flashadillo, Throckmorton, and Janis. Some
‘dillos returned the favor by escaping from the track and the event, or by pissing on their
owners when held aloft. The event was eventually protested by the Society for the
Prevention o f Cruelty to Animals.
See also armadillos, radio stunts.
The Flatlanders —
Personnel: Joe Ely, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Butch Hancock, Tommy H ancock, Sylvester
Rice, Steve Wesson.
Complete Discography:
One Road More (recorded February 1972, Nashville, Tennesee)
126
The Floorbirds - country-rock band comprised o f Hank Pete (lead vocal, rhythm
guitar), Ducky Phillips (pedal steel, national steel, lead guitars), Jimmy D ’Amico
(drums), Albert “Pal” A lbertson (bass), Reed Clark (keyboards, m andolin). See also
Hank Pete, All You Have to Do is Dream, Dead Young Cowboys, Slow M oving
Drains, The Two Tap.
Flying B l i r r i t O Brothers —see Nostalgia & Slow Country, Ideal Hero, Gram
Parsons.
FONDA LaBELLE (H.PETE) - The man w ith "Spectacles like mirrors, shoelaces
like wires.” Oddly enough, the lyrics make no mention o f bats. Highly cryptical Hank
Pete (in spite o f the fact th at the title refers to a real person); a dusty anomaly from the
early years. This turned up as a surprise selection at the Lawton and L as Cruces shows
[and still has not turned up on a bootleg!].
See also LaBeDe, Fonda.
Fourth of July -
Leo Joseph: Willie’s Fourth o f July Picnics... I remember one, it w as so fucking hot...
We sat out there baking in the sun, drinking beer all afternoon and w e never peed.
Because we were so damn dehydrated! We went back to our hotel room and just passed
out. I didn’t really get to enjoy the music.
127
Alan Freed - Disc jockey who coined the term “Rock ‘n’ Roll.” H e was at the center
o f the juvenile-delinquency controversy over this new music, and took the biggest fall in
the payola investigations o f 1959-1960. On May 20, 1960, he was indicted along w ith
six others for accepting $30,650 from six record companies. Freed was indicted five
years later for evading $47,920 in income taxes, but died before he could be tried.
Friedman, Kinky (& The Texas Jewboys) —

(nee Richard Kinky “Big Dick” Friedman)
Sold Am erican -1973
Kinky Friedman -1974
Lasso fro m E l Paso -1976
see also Rolling Thunder Revue
G
Geisha Inn, The -
5727 Vi N. Lamar Blvd. Austin, TX
For miles outside the Austin city lim its, N orth Lamar Boulevard blinks with m otels like
this one, the Geisha Inn, the kind o f m otel where you pay cash and can't see the clerk as
he o r she accepts your money through a slot beneath a one-way m irror that faces an
almost empty parking lot. The kind o f motel which even from the parking lot smells
powerfully o f disinfectant. The kind that Stacy W algreen got a campy little kick out o f
whenever she decided to play “Cowgirl in the Sand.” And w e’re not talking about Neil
Young songs either. W e’re talking about Stacy and her tum -ons. Stacy and her turn-offs
It hadn’t been too hard to find. Pretty much straight north on Lamar, past all the
tire outlets and taco joints. She’d said to watch for the blinking lights. A roll-aw ay sign
parked in front o f a long cinderblock building. The letters on the sign read:
AIR-CONDITIONED WATER BEDS
COLORED T.V
SPECIAL RATE FOR COUPLES
129
The parking lot was empty, save for a Plymouth D uster parked near the dumpster and an
enormous green Oldmobile with a missing rear windshield. Inside, th e room was clean,
but clean the w ay a public restroom is clean — after some custodian’s finished sloshing it
down military style. Hurl out a bucket o f bleach, hurl out a bucket o f rinse-water.
Stacy sat dow n on the waterbed. It set her shoulders swaying opposite to her hips.
She took o ff her w atch, the only M ickey Mouse diver's watch M arty had ever seen, and
set it down on th e bed's coin box. The walls, the ceilings, the floors even, were tiled
with mirrors. You know: a room w ith a heart-shaped jacuzzi in the com er, and no
telephone.
He sat dow n beside Stacy on the waterbed, sank down into th e same space, and
kissed her neck. She tasted like watermelon. Stacy switched on the clock radio and they
both heard, for the first time, the Reverend Billy C. W irtz sing "Roberta, Roberta (get
your big leg o ff o f m e).1' When he sang that verse about the black velvet painting o f
Elvis, Jesus, and John Wayne walking through eternity (watched over by Hank Sr.),
something funny happened. It was like that room had suddenly filled w ith too much
light, so much that M arty couldn’t see himself or Stacy in any o f th e m irrors, and he was
just as suddenly filled w ith an intense need for art o n the walls, cheap art, the kind you
could touch and read like braille, on a night like this, when even a guy w ith 20/20 vision
could be completely blind.
Stacy said she was tired.
“Man, I ’ve been running around all day,” she said.
M arty said he knew and helped her pull the half-buttoned flannel shirt over her
head. He threw th e shirt into the com er by the bolted-dow n TV set.
130
“Running around,” o f course, was a very literal thing for Stacy, part o f being a
rodeo clown. It was her jo b as both a wom an and a clow n to distract. And sometimes to
piss-off.
“Here,” he said, and with his palm and fingertips rubbed circles down her mostly
bare back. He slipped his thumb under her bra-strap, fiddled around until he felt and
heard the quick plastic snap.
“Yeah,” she said. ‘R ight.”
But she stood up and walked to the middle o f the room , where she undid the top
button o f her button-fly jeans. She kept the bra on, how ever loosely it stayed harnessed
to her shoulders. Unclasped, the rear straps waved freely behind her, like wings.
“You gonna charge me or what?” She said.
“Quit clowning around.”
“You’re a riot,” she said. ‘R ealty.”
“Aw, come on, now. You’re serious?”
“You know I am,” she said.
“Oh, man” he said.
“I can see I really move you,” she said.
So M arty got up o ff the bed. He charged her like he knew she wanted him to. He
put his head down so he couldn’t realty see straight ahead, put his thumbs to his temples
and made L-shapes, horns, by extending each o f his index fingers.
It didn’t m atter how many tim es he’d done this, how many fleabag motels. He
still felt like a goddamned fool, every single time. Did she make Hank do it too, he
wondered? He was afraid to ask.
131
“Marty!” she yelled, and, man, was she .smiling, laughing, and loud. R ight arm
extended, she jammed the palm o f her hand against his forehead, pushed o ff o f him, and
began to cut her circles.
“You got to cut them real tight,” she reminded him. “Y ou keep the circles short
and tight, stay deep inside the well, there’s just no way that bull's gonna nail you.”
He spun around and came at her again.
“Jesus,” he shouted, like to be heard above a crowd. “Enough already!”
“Just, come on,” she shouted back, slapping him in th e head and then cutting
another three-sixty, this time counterclockwise, just as he w as about to hook her w ith his
left hom.
She was a little kinky that way. But that was all right. He figured: w e’re only
keeping things interesting, and, besides, this was her idea. She was always asking him to
take her someplace seedy. So th at’s what he did.
He did like always. Once she’d finished with her circle game and they’d wrestled
each other's clothes off, he lay her out real loosey-goosey on the waterbed and set to
running his lips over every single one o f her scars and bruises and even over her internal
injuries.
He began with her left leg, with the fused left ankle. H e moved up to the pin in
that same leg, then over to her once-shattered right kneecap (the one that D oc Dufresne
did such a fine job on), then down again, down the other leg. H e let his tongue linger on
what Stacy called her $5,000 tattoo: a six-inch, ten-stitch scar running from heel to calf: a
beauty mark leftover from the surgery following last year's finals in Pittsburg, Texas,
where a bull named Dodge D akota got a little too much h o o f on her. He made a quick
132
stop at the fork—just to say hello— and continued upward a few inches, to a black and
yellow bruise on her left hip. He detoured over to a long red scratch on her forearm ,
made his way across her sm ooth belly to the tw o bruised ribs she'd been complaining
about below her right breast: the perfect one. He took care o f the other one too. He
kissed her collar bone, gave her a neck a playful little bite—not too hard. W ith his
fingers he massaged the scars by her right eye. W ith his m outh he kissed her gorgeous
naked clown’s lips. Things seemed to be going ju st fine.
T hat’s when Stacy said, “M arty, I want you to ride for charity.”
He thought she was talking dirty to him.
He said, “No problem, sugar.”
But she said, “I mean it, M art. The Pee Wee Rodeo Riders are having their
annual Blow-out, and there’s gonna to be an event for am ateurs.”
“You want me to ride?” he said.
“A bull,” she said. “Yes.”
“I can't,” he said. “I can t even ride a horse.”
“IH be your bullfighter,” she said. “He throw s you, I'll be right there to lure him
away.”
“No way,” he said. “Forget it. Nothing doing.”
“Please?”
“Please?” he said. "What please?”
‘I t ’s an act o f love.”
‘I t ’s an act o f suicide.”
‘I ’m sure Hank would do it.”
133
“Commit suicide?”
“Hell, I’m serious,” she said.
“Serious as cancer,” M arty said.
“As a heart attack,” she said.
“As a toothache.”
“As a man.”
see Pee Wee Rodeo Riders o f Austin. AND THOUGH MARTY REFUSES, HANK
DOES END UP RIDING THE BULL -» see Photo! ----------------------------------------
Gimme Shelter - (a.) Song (b) film
see also Memo From Turner, M ick Jagger, Keith Richards, Anita Pallenberg,
Performance, Gimme Shelter, Jorge Luis Borges, Altamont
Girard, Rene - see also triangular nature o f desire, myth o f celebrity:
134
Stacy Walgreen:
We used to talk about it—how M arty had an Inner Jagger and an Outer Richards,
whereas Hank had an Inner Richards and an O uter Jagger. And it’s deceptive,
you know? Because, really, it’s the inner persona that dictates your behavior to a
large extent, even if you’re outer person fools people into thinking you’re about
something else entirely. But, to me, they were really like tw o halves o f this
incredible whole—and I really couldn’t stand to have one w ithout the other.
Which is why I played both sides o f the fence for so long. Som e would say th at I
couldn’t make up my mind—but I think it was just the opposite. I had made up
my mind. I knew what I w anted in a man, and between the tw o o f them I could
have it all. I think it’s probably expecting too much to think you’re gonna find
this one perfect guy who has it all. You’d be looking forever—and life’s too
short, ultimately.”
Ducky Phillips (pedal steel guitarist fo r The Floorbirds):
Those two guys, m an... it got to the point where it was ju st plain weird, you
know? They always seemed to be chasing the same piece o f tail. It was kind o f
fucked up.
Good Morning, Good Morning - A m inor PID clue in Lennon’s lament,

“Nothing to do to save his life,” but w hat first caught my ear on this one was the B eatles /
Beach Boys connection.
135
M arty K elso: I remember coming home from Fonda Labelle’s one afternoon, a
bootleg album album called Pet Smiles under my jacket. It was a compilation o f
Beach Boys outtakes not only from Pet Sounds, but from the aborted Smile
project as well. I’d read an interview w ith Brian W ilson where he said that Pet
Sounds was a direct response to the challenge o f Rubber Soul. And I’d read
another article where Paul M cCartney said that Wilson’s “God Only Knows” was
the best song ever w ritten— which seemed to make it p retty clear that Set.
Pepper’s w as, in turn, a direct response to the challenge o f Pet Sounds. I was a
Paul kind-of-guy at the tim e, and Henry w as a John kind-of-guy, and I remember
spending one afternoon in my room trying to convince H enry that Paul was the
genius in the Beatles who recognized the genius o f B rian W ilson in The Beach
Boys. But here was another Watson / Holmes moment where I served up the
evidence on a platter, only to have Henry reinterpet it. H e was willing to agree,
o ff the bat, that M cCartney had been keen to appropriate the kind o f multi-track
orchestration that Wilson w as pioneering, the onion-like studio layering. But
then he dropped the bomb on me. We were listening to an unreleased, early
version o f “I Know There’s A n Answer” called “Hang O n To Y our Ego.” A t the
end you can hear Brian’s dogs, Banana & Louie, barking, their m etal collars
jingling. Then you hear B rian Wilson say, “Hey, Chuck, is it possible we can
bring a horse in here w ithout— if we don’t screw anything up?”
“I— beg your pardon?”
Honest to God, there’s a horse standing out th ere...”
136
Henry immediately pulled out the official release o f P et Sounds and threw it on
the turntable. After the fade-out o f “Caroline N o ,” the last track on the album,
there’s a sound-eflect o f a passing train and w histle, accompanied by a familiar
barking. Banana & Louie.
But Henry wasn’t finished yet. He grabbed Sgt. Pepper’s, cued-up “Good
Morning, G ood Morning,” a predominantly Lennon-com posed track, and he was
saying, “Check it out, man! Check out the p et sounds!” There w ere, as anyone
who’s listened to the song well knows, roosters crow ing, dogs barking, sheep
bleating, elephants trumpeting.
“Exactly,” was my response, though, to be honest, this m ost obvious o f
thefts hadn’t even occurred to me. Yes, The B each Boys album cover was a
photograph o f the band members goofing around at a petting zoo. And, yes, the
album was called, quite literally, Pet— Sounds. B ut I’d always taken it more
figuratively. As in pet peeve. O r teacher’s pet. O r pet rock. Brian Wilson’s “pet”
sounds. And Henry wasn’t disagreeing w ith m e, not exactly. He was willing to
give me that— that it had been Paul originally who w as into Brian Wilson.
Typical o f John to go ahead then and steal the idea o f pet sounds for the overdubs
to his song.
According to Abbey Road Studios engineer, G eoff Emerick:
“John said to me during one o f the breaks that he wanted to have the
sound o f animals escaping and that each successive animal should be
capable o f frightening or devouring its predecessor!”
137
The song begins with a rooster crowing. Later on there are birds chirping, a cat
meowing, dogs barking, a horse whinnying, sheep bleating, a lion roaring, an elephant
snorting, a fox chased by hunters & hounds, galloping horses, a cow, and last but least
devouring, a hen cluckingl
see also T he Beatles, Brian Wilson, John Lennon, Smile , Paul-is-Dead
“Goat Roper” Radio - KOKE was called “goat-roper” radio...

See also Austin Mascots, Super Roper, Koke - FM
Gracey, Joe - Disc Jockey for KOKE - FM.
N ick Spitzer (aka “The Perfessor,” a DJ for KOKE FM in the mid-70’s) :
Joe Gracey was the ultimate and most perfect “swing figure”... Because Joe, to
me as an outsider, Joe was awfully hard...I loved Joe...let me just say that...but
you know I was probably a little pretentious because I’d worked in a major
m arket and I knew a lot more music beyond Texas than these guys knew—but
they knew Texas music and they knew I didn’t really know it...and Joe was like-
even though he’s a college educated guy... Joe played kind o f the redneck...and
they called me “The Perfessor”.... And one day Joe said to me, you know, I was
eating a sandwich with like seven-grain bread and sprouts on it. .but, you know, I
had a beer, but I had that kind o f sandwich and he looks at me and he says, he
138
used to put on this kindof minstrel-texas act and he says <cNick, the only thing you
need ta eat is w hite bread, pink baloney, and yellow m ustard..”
The caricatures that Joe Gracey did, and Jim Franklin did, and a lot o f people
did...this sort o f hyper-braggadoccio Texan...and Joe did th at and Joe was
effectively the station’s music director...and you see you w ouldn’t get mad at Joe
for giving you shit about “god damn it, play some m ore Johnny Bush...play more
Cal Smith...” you know? More o f the straight Texas stu ff to prove your mettle and
show you could hang and hang w ith the rednecks...but you never objected to that,
1.) because Joe knew the shot and 2.) because on the other side o f Joe was this
guy named R usty Bell.
see Rusty Bell, KOKE-FM.
Gram Theft Parsons -

On September 26, the L.A. police issued w arrants for the arrest o f Phillip
Kaufrnan and M ichael Martin. A fter much official deliberation, the charge was
Grand Theft, m ore specifically, the theft o f the c o ffin. It seems odd, but no
California law p e r se expressly forbids “body snatching.” A t best, the theft o f a
body, pure and simple, could only com e under the charge o f petty larceny or,
more specifically, the theft o f 920 w orth o f chemicals that com prise a cadaver.
(That figure is a 1973 price quotation. Today a corpse could fetch well over a
buck.) One officer jokingly suggested that the offense be titled “Gram Theft
Parsons” .... W hen the pair o f thieves went to trial shortly before the end o f 1973
they were convicted, and once their motive became plain, the court was lenient.
They were ordered to pay Larry Burrell [Gram’s father-in-law] $750—the price
o f the coffin which he had paid out— and the m atter w as considered closed.
— unidentified magazine article (1984)
139
The most outrageous ingredients o f Kaufman’s story also happen to be the m ost
verifiable. The body really was stolen from LAX. The burnt remains o f the body and
casket really w ere discovered by campers (and subsequently by park rangers) the next
day. Kaufinan and Martin really were arrested for the the theft o f the coffin and fined for
the cost o f damages. These “facts,” at any rate, w ere reported in the Los Angeles Times.
New M usical Express. Melody Maker. Rolling Stone. Crawdaddv. and other new s media.
Somehow, the chain o f events sounds too bizarre to be true. The characters, the events,
and the circumstances are so unusual, in fact, that writers and reporters have frequently
described them (appropriately or not) as “legendary.” Which is to say that the Gram
Theft Parsons legend-summary has become part o f the purported history o f the pop music
community.
Gram Theft Parsons
a screenplay
by
Mitch Lee
Adapted from the book
Road Mangier Deluxe, by Phil Kaufman
140
1. INT. CONTINENTAL MORTUARY AIR SERVICE (LAX ) - AFTERNOON
A CONTINENTAL EMPLOYEE sits at a cluttered, desk in a small
dispatcher-type office. The door to the office is open to the
loading bay, and the sounds of both jet and diesel engines filter
in. The EMPLOYEE (male, middle-aged, Caucasian, dressed in a
blue-grey jumpsuit) is smoking a cigarette and working his way
through a bag of take-out tacos. The bag, plopped down beside
the telephone, is labeled El Carne Grande. The phone rings.
EMPLOYEE
Air service—
He listens, pauses, sifts through a stack of papers, finds a
clipboard, turns a page of two.
Remains? Let's see—yeah, they're here.
(pauses)
Mrs. Goldberg.
141
(another pause)
Come again? Parsons?
(turns a few more pages)
Nope. That one's not in yet. You're looking
at... eight o'clock tonight.
(pause)
Uh huh. No problem.
He hangs up and takes a king-sized bite out of his taco.
CUT TO:
2. EXT. PAYPHONE (LIQUOR STORE PARKING LOT) - AFTERNOON
CU on a Levi's jacket with "Sin City" embroidered on the back of
it. DOLLY into a MEDIUM on PHIL KAUFMAN, 38 years old. We can
142
now see his cowboy boots, hat, his Hell's Angels build & posture
(not to mention tattoos)-
PHIL
Goldberg's just not going to cut it, I'm afraid.
Parsons. You have anything says Parsons lyin' around?
MICHAEL MARTIN enters frame carrying case of Mickey's Big
Mouth and a brown-bagged fifth of Jack Daniels. MICHAEL is
26 years old, a dark-haired Jesus-type. He can't weigh
more than a hundred pounds. Martin, too, wears a "Sin
City" jacket, jeans, and boots—but no hat.
MICHAEL
That Dale again?
PHIL
(shakes his head, No.)
MICHAEL
Is it—he—there?
PHIL
(Shakes head No, Yes...pauses...wobbles head:
Sort of. )
143
Thanks. Eight o'clock. You're sure about—
(He holds receiver out in front of him, looks at it, shrugs and
hangs it up.)
MICHAEL
You hungry?
PHIL
I will be.
CUT TO:
3. INT. CADILLAC HEARSE-AFTERNOON
MICHAEL is driving. Each of them has a Mickey's propped between
his legs, and they're passing the Jack Daniels back and forth.
PHIL
You two did Yellowstone in this bad boy?
144
MICHAEL
Nah. But Dale's way into it. She's gonna drag me
out there one of these days.
PHIL
I think you should do weddings with it.
MICHAEL
We ever get hitched, it'll be appropriate.
Believe me.
PHIL
Honeymoon in Yellowstone.
MICHAEL
Give me that.
(grabs the bottle, takes a belt, pauses)
You nervous at all?
PHIL
Man, I'm gonna do this if I have to haul Gram off
the airplane and torch him right there on the
friggin' tarmac.
145
MICHAEL
But are you nervous?
PHIL
I'm not nervous and I'm not buzzed either.
(looks at the bottle of Jack)
You only buy one?
CUT TO:
4. EXT. SANTA MONICA FREEWAY - TWILIGHT
AERIAL and DOLLY shots of the Cadillac Hearse cruising recklessly
through L.A. traffic. Gram Parsons' "Big Mouth Blues" plays LOUD
in the background.
CONTINUE WITH:
CREDIT SEQUENCE:
146
RETURN OF THE RETURN OF THE GRIEVOUS ANGEL
5. EXT. LAX AIRPORT (CONTINENTAL SERVICE BAY) - EVENING
The hearse pulls up in front of the Air Service dispatcher's
office wesaw earlier. A security guard pulls up and PHIL puts
a hand ontop of MICHAEL'S beer bottle, signaling him to lower
it. The security guard passes, keeps driving.
PHIL
All Right. I'm going in and try to charm this
motherfucker. Keep the car running. I may have
to hit the guy or whatever to distract him.
MICHAEL
Distract him? You call a punch in the face a
distraction ?
PHIL
Yes, I do. I call that a definite distraction.
You just be ready 'cause I'm not prepared to distract
half the L .A. County Sheriff's Department.
147
PHIL climbs out of passenger seat and is about to close the door.
MICHAEL
Hurry up.
PHIL gives MICHAEL a "get real" look and slams door.
CUT TO:
6. INT. CONTINENTAL MORTUARY AIR SERVICE - NIGHT
CONTINENTAL EMPLOYEE (aka TACO MAN) is sitting, feet on desk,
smoking and watching Starsky & Hutch on a small black & white TV.
PHIL enters through open door, looking like the shaggy Harley-
dude he that is.
TACO MAN
Lose your monkey wrench?
PHIL
(looking ready for an even smarter-assed retort, curbs himself)
148
I'm on night shift for the funeral parlor.
You've got a body here, Parsons, that's
postmarked for New Orleans. The family's changed
their mind though. Now they wanna fly the body
privately, by private plane, out of Van Nuys.
TACO MAN
You don't say.
PHIL
So you wanna lead me to the stiff of what?
TACO MAN leans forward, looks out the door, sees the hearse and
MICHAEL in the driver's seat. MICHAEL lowers a beer from his
lips, grins sheepishly and waves "Hi."
PHIL
(looking ready to put a gun to hisown head—or better yet
MICHAEL'S)
Look, man, it's late, we were supposed to have
the night off, you know? We've got a couple of
honeys lined up, and then we get this call.
149
TACO MAN
What's the number?
PHIL
Come again?
TACO MAN
Of the funeral parlor.
PHIL
Oh, sure, the parlor. Sure... okay... got a pen?
It's— ready?—okay, it's two-one-three, well, you
don't need the area code... eight-nine-six,
sixty-two twenty.
TACO MAN dials the phone. CU on PHIL biting-the-bullet big time.
TACO MAN waits. We hear a faint ringing coming from the
receiver. Then, faintly, a woman's voice: hello ?
TACO MAN
Is this—
(looks at PHIL, mouths/whispers:)
150
What's it called?
PHIL
Riley's.
TACO MAN
Is this Riley's Funeral Parlor?
WOMAN'S VOICE
Phil?
TACO MAN
This is Continental Mortuary Air Service. We're just checking—
did you send a guy down here? His name is—
(looks to PHIL)
PHIL
Jeremy.
TACO MAN
Jeremy.
151
WOMAN
Jeremy?
(pauses)
Jeremy1 Yes... what about him?
PHIL's face lights up; he nods: "good girl."
TACO MAN
He says there's been a change of plans... flight
plans for the deceased.
WOMAN
Gram! ... the ... Parson's party. Absolutely. We
sent... Jeremy to make the pick-up.
(pauses)
He wasn't late was he?
152
TACO MAN
No. No, Ma'am. He wasn't.
WOMAN
So is there a problem?
TACO MAN
I just needed to—
WOMAN
I'm in the middle of a viewing right now, so if
that's all you need to know...
TACO MAN
Well, it would be better if—
WOMAN
Thanks so much for your vigilance. Goodbye,
(click)
PHIL who's been straining his ear toward the phone, mouths to
himself: "vigilance "?
153
TACO MAN
(looking drained)
Let me pull the right papers.
PHIL
No problem.
TACO MAN
I'll need a signature.
(surveying PHIL again)
I'm really not sure...
PHIL
Think about it, man. It's a fucking dead body.
You really think I want to deal with this shit?
TACO MAN
I'd like to think not.
Both men smile. TACO MAN hands PHIL the clipboard. CD on
clipboard, the release form. PHIL signs: "Jeremy Nobody."
154
PHIL
(already beginning to tear at one of the pages)
I keep the pink copy?
TACO MAN
The pink one. If you want to pull into the
hangar—first one on your left— I'll meet you back
there.
PHIL
Right-0. Hey, thanks, man. The ladies are
really gonna appreciate this.
(He makes a rude configuration with his fingers.)
CUT TO:
7. INT. CADILLAC HEARSE - NIGHT
155
PHIL climbs into passenger seat, grins at the stoned and anxious
MICHAEL. MICHAEL can't really utter anything at first. He just
stares bug-eyed at PHIL.
PHIL
Tell you one thing. You don't marry that woman,
I will.
MICHAEL
Dale? Wait, what, what happened?
PHIL
Nothing. Except she just won about three
motherfucking Oscars, far as I'm concerned.
MICHAEL
Where is she? What's she doing?
CUT TO:
8. INT. JOSHUA TREE INN (ROOM EIGHT) - NIGHT
LONG on DALE McELROY, stepping through doorframe, streetlight
falling dimly across her shoulders and into the room where, in
156
the foreground, MARGARET FISHER (exceptionally pretty, but for
the moment absolutely bug-eyed) kneels over the motionless body
of GRAM PARSONS. DALE is carrying a pile of ice-cubes in the
front of her t-shirt, which she holds stretched-out before her
like an apron.
MARGARET
Jesus I Oh Fucking Jesus!
DALE
What do we— Here,
(shakes the t-shirt and the ice at MARGARET)
what do we do?
MARGARET
All right, (big breath) Fuck. Okay. Okay, gimme a
couple of those.
DALE
(shaking the t-shirt so violently
that several ice-cubes fall out onto the floor)
Take 'em! Jesus. Is he dying?
MARGARET
(turning to glare eye-to-eye at DALE)
He's fucking OD-ingl Yes, he's fucking dying
DALE
You're not going to get petty with me— You're
not! Are you going to do something?!
(MARGARET begins to undo GRAM'S belt, then his zipper)
What are you doing?
MARGARET
(rolling GRAM onto his stomach)
Get those ice cubes ready.
DALE
You're kidding me.
MARGARET
(takes down GRAM's pants)
Here.
(holds her palm out to DALE)
158
DALE
How many?
(MARGARET only shakes her palm)
Okay!
(fills the outstretched hand to overflowing)
MARGARET proceeds to push two or three ice cubes up GRAM's ass,
DALE
(grimacing and turning her head away, but
smirking somewhat)
Oooh. Yikes.
GRAM
(still face down on the floor)
Goddamn!
(He rolls spastically onto his back, then raises
159
his head and shoulders just enough to look down
toward the family jewels.)
You ladies having fun yet?
DALE
(chucks one handful of ice at him, then another)
You bastard! You stupid Sonofabitch!
GRAM
(to Margaret, in puppy-dog fashion)
But you still love me, don't you sweetheart?
MARGARET
You suck.
GRAM
(finger scratching his chin)
Mmmm.
DALE
(to MARGARET)
Where did you score it?
160
MARGARET
(turns her thumb in the direction of
one of the other rooms)
Guy in #1.
DALE
(shaking her head)
Fucking pathetic.
(to GRAM)
You're okay?
GRAM
(eyes closed, freaky smile, nods Yes.)
DALE turns and walks out. The door slams.
CUT TO:
161
(The first line here is a repeat/overlap from scene #7)
MICHAEL
Where is she? What's she doing?
PHIL
She's home. Viewing.
MICHAEL
Phil, man...
PHIL
Just drive the car, amigo. This ain't over yet.
(pointing)
In there.
MEDIUM on Cadillac entering hangar. The entrance way is
enormous, and so is the interior.
CUT TO:
162
10. INT. CONTINENTAL STORAGE HANGAR — NIGHT
Leaning against a pallet, TACO MAN waits for the hearse to pull
alongside. MICHAEL rolls down his window and leans his head out.
TACO MAN directs the vehicle closer. He gives a "stop" and then a
"thumbs up" sign. PHIL climbs out and opens the tailgate.
TACO MAN
(getting a good look at the condition of the hearse, and MICHAEL)
This sucker's seen better days.
PHIL
(just joining TACO MAN, puts one hand atop the casket and gives
it a pat)
Don't listen to him, buddy. That's a cheap shot.
TACO MAN
I'm talkin' bout your car.
PHIL
Hey, that's an even cheaper shot.
MICHAEL
Runs great.
163
TACO MAN
(looking one last time at his paperwork)
Well— He's all yours.
PHIL
Thanks a bunch.
CUT TO:
11. INT. STORAGE HANGAR - NIGHT
From interior, looking outward: LONG SHOT of the mouth of the
hangar. One police car pulls up and parks directly in front of
the exit, then another. PHIL and MICHAEL exchange worried looks.
PHIL
You got a can in this joint?
TACO MAN
Over there.
PHIL
May I?
164
TACO MAN
Be my guest.
PHIL
Muchos grassy-ass.
MICHAEL
(tensely, but mostly under his breath)
Phil . Don't do this to me, Phil.
PHIL
(waving dismissively)
Ah, what the hell. I can hold it.
MICHAEL climbs out of the car, and the three men load the casket
into the back.
CUT TO:
PHIL
We're fucked. You hear me? Fucked.
165
(pause)
We gotta get out of here. Leave the car. There's
gotta be a back door. There's gotta be a windovr-
MICHAEL
Phil, man. We can't just leave it, man.
PHIL
(turning to face the rear of the vehicle)
Sorry, Gram. I took this as far as I could.
MICHAEL
The car, man. The registration.
PHIL
We'll tell that lie when we come to it. Look,you
have a better idea?
MICHAEL
Let's just drive. You know, just go.
PHIL
That pig's got us totally blocked in.
166
MICHAEL
Talk to him.
PHIL
You fucking talk to him. I've done enough
talking for one evening.
MICHAEL
I drive, you talk. That was the arrangement.
PHIL
(over his shoulder)
Gram, my man. Talk some sense into his guy, will
ya?
MICHAEL
Cut that shit out.
PHIL
(in an affected voice)
Listen to Phil, Michael. I'm just dead weight.
MICHAEL
167
You're a fucking sicko.
PHIL
Fine. Drive.
MICHAEL
Yeah?
PHIL
Drive. Fucking do it.
MICHAEL
Hey, I'm doing it, man. I am doing it.
CUT TO:
13. INT. MOUTH OF CONTINENTAL STORAGE HANGAR - NIGHT
The two squad cars are "sixty-nined;" that is, they're parked
"coffee"-style: driver's side window to driver's side window.
COP #1 and COP #2 are shooting the shit, smoking cigarettes, etc.
The hearse pulls into the frame.
PHIL
(leaning his entire upper body out
168
the passenger-side window.)
Hey,can you guys move your cars?
COP #1
(looking somewhat alarmed, pauses)
Oh, yeah. I'm really sorry.
CUT TO:
MICHAEL
Is he giving us shit or what?
PHIL
Shut up. Look, he's moving.
COP #1 puts his car in gear and pulls forward. COP #2 follows
suit, only he has to drive in reverse in order to stay aligned
169
with his comarade and thus continue the gab session. The hearse
roars forward and out of the hangar.
CUT TO:
15. EXT. TEXACO GAS STATION — NIGHT
The boys pull up to the pumps. PHIL climbs out of the car and
retrieves a rusty old jerry canfrom the back. The sign above
the pumps reads: FOLL SERVE. An eager ATTENDANT catches PHIL
before he can fill the can himself.
ATTENDANT
Let me help you with that, sir.
PHIL
Why, thank you, young man. I"11 take five
gallons of high test, if you'd be so kind.
ATTENDANT
(sizing up the can)
170
Think it'' 11 fit?
PHIL
I think it will.
(the attendant looks skeptical)
Just fill 'er to the brim.
ATTENDANT
What do you want high test for?
PHIL
I don't want him to ping.
CUT TO:
16. INT. BURGER & BEER JOINT - NIGHT
PHIL and MICHAEL sit in a red vinyl booth (complete with plastic
red & white checkered tablecloth, etc.). They are ravinous, in
the process of scarfing down two burgers apiece and a pitcher of
beer. Out of nowhere, MICHAEL spills his his drink. Beer
171
steadily drips over the side of the table, and a WAITRESS comes
to clean it u p .
MICHAEL
Hell, I'm sorry.
WAITRESS
No trouble, sweetheart. Happens all the time.
PHIL
He just does that to get attention.
WAITRESS
Clever, isn't he?
MICHAEL
(blushing, or pretending to)
I did not, Phil. Jeez.
(to WAITRESS)
What time you get off?
WAITRESS
I'm not about to fall for that one.
172
MICHAEL
(winking)
What one?
WAITRESS
That your hearse out there?
MICHAEL
Naw.
WAITRESS
Shit, I saw you come in.
MICHAEL
Oh, that hearse.
WAITRESS
Quite a turn-on.
MICHAEL
Yeah?
PHIL
His girlfriend thinks so too.
173
WAITRESS
(laughs, knowingly)
You guys got anything back there?
PHIL
Oh, some lucky stiff.
WAITRESS
(smiling and shaking her head)
You guys ready for your check or what?
MICHAEL
What, you afraid we're gonna stiff ya?
PHIL approvingly "shoots" MICHAEL with a finger (as in "Bang.
Hey, good one.")
CUT TO:
17. INT. CADILLAC HEARSE — NIGHT
174
PHIL and MICHAEL are still drinking, and it/ s quite clear that,
in spite of their status as "professional piss-heads," these boys
are toasted.
PHIL
(w/ the obligatory belch)
Christ, man, we've gone far enough. We're going
to have to get out of here in a hurry. Let's get
it done.
MICHAEL
Hope those park rangers are sleeping.
PHIL
What time's it?
MICHAEL
(holding up his bare wrist and partially spilling a beer)
No idea.
PHIL
Here we go: "Cap Rock, one-quarter mile." There'll plenty
of room to turn around there.
175
MICHAEL
I can't see so good.
PHIL
Just keep driving. I'l tell you when.
MICHAEL
Almo st the re, Gram!
PHIL
Damn straight.
MICHAEL
I'm gonna get, like, all emotional.
PHIL
That's what's got us here in the first place.
MICHAEL
Is this it?
PHIL
Yeah. This is it.
176
(pause)
Well, turn, dammit! Turn!
MICHAEL hits the brakes hard. The hearse fishtails.
Jesus, man. Take it easy. You okay?
MICHAEL
Sure, man. Fine.
PHIL
On the way back, I'm driving.
MICHAEL
Okay with me.
(gesturing with chin)
Hey. How's this?
PHIL
Looks good to me.
CUT TO:
177
18. EXT. PARKING AREA, JOSHUA TREE NAT' L MONUMENT - NIGHT
PHIL and MICHAEL stand behind the open tailgate of the hearse and
stare stupidly at the casket. After a few moments they begin
wrestling it out of the vehicle. They pull, then simply let one
end of the casket hit the ground. Thud! MICHAEL appears to have
a handle on the top end, then loses it. Thud!
PHIL
Sorry, Gram!
MICHAEL
Okay, man. Let's go. Light it, light it.
PHIL
Light what ?
MICHAEL
Light it.
PHIL
We gotta say goodbye first.
178
MICHAEL
Man, you' re not gonna open the box are you?
PHIL
Shit Yeah. We're gonna see our mate.
MICHAEL
I can't stand it. I can't fucking stand it.
PHIL
Buck up. Blood is thicker than water.
MICHAEL
What the hell is that supposed to mean.
PHIL
It means give me some room, I'm going to open her
up.
MICHAEL
You're insane.
179
PHIL proceeds to open the casket. It creaks, Dracula-style.
The men stare for a moment, without moving or speaking. PHIL
puts a hand to his mouth...to keep from laughing.
PHIL
Tiny sucker, ain't it?
MICHAEL
Jesus, man. What'd they do with his clothes.
PHIL
Hey, Gram, what's that there on your chest?
(he reaches down and points at Gram's chest, then
pulls the old "slap-you-upside-the-nose-while
your-looking-down-trick")
MICHAEL
Don't touch him, man. Don't touch him.
PHIL
He's dead. He's dead. Don't you understand?
(silence)
180
MICHAEL
Come on. Let's go.
PHIL retrieves the can of gasoline and a bottle of beer from the
hearse. He places the beer in Gram's hand.
PHIL
On me, buddy. Have a safe flight.
LONG SHOT of PHIL and MICHAEL standing over the casket. PHIL
empties the entire can of gasoline into the casket. He waits
only a few seconds, then lights a match and tosses it in.
see also Phil Kaufman, Michael Martin
181
Great White Wonder - By Thanksgiving 1969, M arty’s parents had separated.

Catholics didn’t believe in divorce, and suddenly Marty’s father was going to Mass every
Sunday.
“Anyway,” he’d say to Marty. ‘I t ’s right on the w ay to the track.”
He was living at his brother Jimmie’s place in H allandale, and the only time
Marty got to see him now was on weekends, which m eant either the swap m eet or the
track or M ass— and often times all three.
M arty had gone to Hebrew school until he was eleven o r so. W hich was around
how old he was when they kicked him out for stealing cigarettes out o f Rabbi Golden’s
car. His m other, o f course, was bitterly disappointed, not to mention disgusted. She
pretty much dis-owned him after that. Oh sure, she’d throw a fit if she caught him
smoking o r drinking o r reading dirty magazines, but only as a m atter o f principal. She’d
have reprimanded a stranger’s child with an equal amount o f self-righteousness. She
never even tried to get M arty into Hebrew school som ewhere else. M arty figured he just
stopped being half-Jewish after that.
N ot that he’d ever been much o f a half-Catholic either. M arty w as about as
Catholic as his father: what he really loved about morning M ass was the big, greasy
breakfast they’d have afterwards. But it was the swap m eet that became his father’s true
place o f w orship, more so, even, than the track. He was alw ays dragging M arty up to
Broward County, where they had one o f the biggest m eets around. Fran Kelso believed
in the value o f discarded things. In their re-sale value. H e had an unbelievable
assortment o f crap lying around. In the house, in the garage, in the back o f his station
182
wagon. His wife had constantly been after him to sell som e o f his ever-expanding stock.
But every weekend he cam e back with new used items. Books, appliances, furniture,
clothing. Some o f these finds, he insisted, were collectors items. O thers he planned to
restore. Often enough, M arty supposed, his assertions w ere true. In spite o f himself the
guy always seemed to have cash in his pocket. Fran Kelso loved his junk, and his very
reluctance to part with it m ay well have been the thing that made people w ant to buy it.
But up until the day M arty m et Fonda LaBelle, it had never really occurred to him that
the old man might be onto something.
It was a particularly humid Florida Sunday for that time o f year. 99.9 %
humidity. M arty didn’t know what the actual tem perature was—it could’ve been
seventy-five degrees or a hundred and it wouldn’t have m attered. The sweat-soaked
backs o f their shirts stuck to the crimson vinyl seats o f his father’s old Chrysler. Franny
pulled right up to the m ain entrance and double-parked while they unloaded his wares.
Then he left me there to w atch the stuff for a few m inutes while he w ent and parked the
car at the furthest end o f the lot, alongside Broward Boulevard—we’d beat all the traffic
and be the first ones out a t the end o f the day.
The Swap meet w as held in the lot o f an enorm ous Drive-In movie theater.
People set-up their stands am ong the hundreds o f posts and metal speaker boxes. They
used card tables, milk crates, sawhorses and closet doors, blankets, tarps, tents. Marty
even saw a teepee or tw o. His father had one o f those aluminum tables that you could
fold up into a kind o f suitcase. They found a spot in betw een a rug m erchant and a old
woman selling handmade ceram ic dog dishes. It was a strategic location, Fran pointed
183
out, due to its proximity to the snack bar and the restroom s, where there would surely be
a lot o f traffic.
A little too much traffic, M arty thought. A t tim es the sea o f bodies streaming past
them was so thick that they were hidden from all but those in the outerm ost lane. W orse,
they had chosen the right side o f the lane, the one heading toward the restrooms. The
people going in this direction were in a hurry! Their hearts were set on foot-long hot
dogs, jumbo soft pretzels, potato chips, soft drinks, fried dough, o r cotton candy. Either
that or they were about to explode. They should have set-up on the other side, M arty told
his father, where the newly “relieved” passersby m oved more slowly and aimlessly. But
Fran the Man wouldn’t hear a thing about it.
In the past, his father had “unloaded” bulk quantities o f Cheez Whiz, Pop Tarts,
Tang, refrigerator magnets, frisbees, Pez dispensers, Bazooka bubble gum, toilet bowl
cleaners, car wax, floor wax, mops, brooms, sponges, hair sprays, styling gels, and
combs. All o f which he sold on commission for Uncle Jimmie. Today he was selling
various items in commemoration o f this summer’s Apollo moon landing. He had
buttons, pennants, coins, key-chains, stamps. H e even had some m odel kits o f the
Apollo X I lunar module.
They took shifts running the table, each giving the other a chance to explore the
grounds. When it was M arty’s turn, he went in search o f record sellers, but they were
few and far between that day. He saw wigs, bluejeans, socks, t-shirts, baseball caps,
sneakers, workboots, lunch boxes, comic books, baseball cards, M ad magazines, Playboy
magazines, Life magazines, National Geographic, Big Little Books, ancient catcher’s
m itts, football tees, tennis rackets, hummels and other glass figurines, clocks, watches,
184
transistor radios, turntables, speakers, bath linen, yam , embroidery, seat covers, show er
curtains, rugs, hammers, nails, wrenches, screw drivers, power tools, pencils, pens,
crayons, coloring books, tape, glue, ribbon, string- And, o f course, there were all kinds
o f used junk, typical yard sale fare: pots and pans and Tupperware and lamps, tables and
chairs, golf clubs and baseball bats, horseshoe sets, bocci sets and crochet sets. There
were pen knives, hunting knives, crossbows, rifles, handguns. Army-navy surplus o f
every kind. There were only a few scattered hippies on blankets, selling beads, pipes,
posters, tie-dyes, and incense. Nothing you couldn’t find in The Grove, Marty decided,
although the prices here were a little better.
What he hadn’t yet been able to find in The Grove, however, was a certain
“unofficial” recording by Bob Dylan, a tw o-LP set whose title, according to the article
he’d read in the September issue o f R olling Stone magazine was “G reat White W onder.”
H e’d been seeking it out for months now, w ith no luck whatsoever. So for as he could
tell, it was still only being sold out on the w est coast. He’d tried Fat Angel and H ouse o f
Rhythm and Idiot’s Delight. He’d even looked in the back pages o f Goldmine. It w as
the talk o f The Com er, and o f all the older guys at the High School. Anyone who
managed to produce a copy would surely be championed among the stoners o f Dania
Beach High and M iddle Schools.
M arty feund several record vendors at the Swap Meet that day, but they only
seemed to be carrying the usual unremarkable crap— lots o f well-worn vinyl and 8-track
“Best o f ’ compilations—although certainly there w ere some deals to be had. One guy
was selling the new Stones album, Let It Bleed, for $2.99, and he had The Beatles W hite
Alhum (sealed) for 5 bucks.
185
M arty had just about given up when he came across one last record vender. This
dude was standing there, in the blazing heat, wearing a thigh-length army jacket with a
tie-dyed t-shirt underneath. He reminded M arty o f that leather-maker he’d seen at the
Pow W ow, the one w ith Duane Allman’s beard, except this guy’s hair was m uch redder
and he w ore a pair o f round-fram ed, wire-rimmed glasses. He had about six or seven
orange crates full o f vinyl, m ostly used, but in great condition and at incredible prices.
Marty was all set to buy a mint copy o f Steppenw olf s A t Y our Birthday Party, as well as
an original UK pressing o f The Stones’ Beggar’s Banquet, when an LP in a plain white
cover caught his eye. M arty’s heart fluttered for a moment as he pulled it from the crate.
Had he really found The G reat White Wonder? There were no identifying m arks
anywhere on the blank gatefold cover, inside or out. N ot even a rubberstam ped “G W .”
Marty slipped one o f the tw o albums from the sleeve. The record labels w ere blank
white as well!
The guy in the arm y jacket must have been reading M arty’s mind at that point (or
his face anyway). “Only the repressings are rubber-stam ped,” he said.
“H ow much,” M arty asked, positive somehow they w ere both on the same
wavelength.
“Y ou buying those other records too?”
“I dunno,” M arty said, pulling several crumpled bills from his front pocket.
“Altogether, I ’ve got ten bucks. Wait, eleven.”
“Some shops are asking twelve just for the Dylan, ” the dude said. “And this
here, like I said, is one o f the first pressings...”
186
“I f you’ll hold it for me,” M arty said, alm ost in a panic now, “I can run and
borrow a dollar from my dad.”
“Naw, forget it,” he said. “I’m sure w e can w ork something out.” H e took all
three albums out o f Marty’s hands and shuffled through them a couple o f tim es. “Well,
let me see now,” he said. “MmHmm. MmHmm. How many records you got at
home?”
“How m anyT M arty said. “Not many. I mean, I’ve got a few, but— ”
“D on’t worry,” the dude said, reading M arty’s mind once again. ‘I ’m only
curious what kind o f collection you got. Y ou’re pretty young, ain’t ya?”
“Fourteen,” M arty said.
The dude let out a long, low whistle. “T hat right,” he said, and smiled broadly,
extending his hand to me. “The name’s Fonda LaBelle,” he said.
“M arty Kelso. I don’t really have anything collectible.”
Then M arty remembered the the W BCN acetate. He told the Fonda how
Weslea’s brother had had recorded it for them , and the dude’s eyes lit up.
“So how’s ten dollars sound, Marty?”
“I can’t sell it,” M arty said. “Technically it belongs to a friend o f mine.”
“No, I mean for these here.”
“For the Dylan?” M arty said.
“For all o f ‘em,” he said. “What the hell.”
It sounded great. “Thanks,” Marty said. “Thanks a lot.”
Fonda was from Austin,TX, he told Marty, w here he owned a shop called Refried
Records, and, no, he hadn’t com e all the way to South Florida ju st to make a couple o f
187
sales. He was here to see the Stones play at the First Annual Palm Beach International
Music Festival. He produced a folded piece o f pink paper from an inside pockets o f his
army jacket and handed it to Marty. It was a flyer for the event, which w as coming up
that Thanksgiving weekend. Marty told the dude he’d been to the Big R ock Pow Wow,
and the dude seemed to be impressed.
“I heard about that one,” he said. ‘Tantastic.”
B ut the Palm Beach festival was going to be even bigger. A lot o f the sam e bands who’d
played at W oodstock over the summer w ere going to be there. Canned H eat, Jefferson
Airoplane, Sly & the Family Stone. N ot to mention Iron Butterfly, Steppenwolf, The
Byrds, and Janis Joplin.
“I know Janis personally,” he said. “Hails from Port Arthur originally—same as
me. I seen her play in Austin a whole mess o f times too. Little places, though. Nothing
international about it. I ’d rather see the Stones at Kenneth Threadgill’s, you know?
Course, it ain’t gonna happen.”
Marty agreed, though he’d never heard o f Kenneth Threadgill and had no idea
where Port Arthur was. Before Marty left, Fonda produced another piece o f paper,
folded in thirds, a m ail-order flyer from Refried Records.
“There’s more where this came from ,” he said, tapping a finger on the blank white
album cover. ‘T keep a mailing list. Give me a month o r so. I ’ll have live Stones,
Zeppelin, more Dylan, and maybe even some Beatles.”
Marty gave him his address, along w ith a five and five ones.
“Speaking o f w hich...” Fonda said. ‘T would be real interested in m akin’ a copy
o f that WBCN acetate you got. I wouldn’t ask you to lend it to me or anything like that.
188
I understand, afterall. You don’t know me from Adam. I wouldn’t risk it if I w ere you.
But I tell you what. I know a place dow n in Dade County where w e can get a transfer
made. A vinyl transfer. We could take a ride dow n there together, and I could get me a
copy, and, o f course, I could make it w orth your while.”
“I don’t know,” I said. I couldn’t tell about this guy. He seem ed cool. B ut he
also seemed very...different.”
“We could barter,” he said. “I ’ve got records, I ’ve got w eed, I’ve got ‘shroom s.”
Now that had M arty’s attention. This was sounding better and better.
“O r,” he said. ‘T could round up some extra tickets to the Stones at Palm Beach.”
“To the whole festival?”
“Whole festival’s the only w ay they’re selling 'em . Three days. Stones are the
grand finale on Sunday night.”
“I wouldn’t want to go alone,” M arty said.
Fonda smiled. “No, o f course not. I’d get you tw o, four, however many you
wanted.”
“And the tapes don’t leave my sight?’ M arty said.
“You’ll be with ‘em the w hole time.”
“Can I bring a friend?’
“Don’t see why not.”
“Okay, it’s a deal then. I ’ll talk to my friend W eslea.”
“Give me your phone num ber,” he said. I ’ll call you in a day o r tw o.”
189
Green Hornet, The - Essentially a Lone R anger for another era. Considered a
wanted man by police, The Green H ornet was nevertheless a crim efighter who managed
to lead a dual existence as the owner and publisher o f The Daily SentineL See also Britt
Reid, Dan Reid, John Reed, The Lone Ranger, Clayton Moore, Anonymity,
Pseudonymity.
Groover’s Paradise -1 9 7 4 album by Doug Sahm, with members o f Credence

Clearwater Revival as his backing band. Time m agazine later used “G roover’s Paradise”
as the title o f an article announcing this cosmic “paradise” to the nation.
Glimby — It has been rumored that when Art Clokey began to create Gumby - a
“trippy” stop-time animation series for children - he commissioned a them e song from a
young Gram Parsons. But that is not the case. Clokey hired the services o f “Sneaky”
Pete Kleinow, who would later play steel guitar for G ram and The Flying Burrito
Brothers. Right idea, wrong Burrito!
H
Hamburger Hut - Home o f the dagburger!
Hamburglary —see H.R. Pufhstuf, Mayor McCheese, The H.R. Pufhstuf

Conspiracy
Happy New Year! - O n One! the door is flung open. I sit up and light rushes in
like fire. They've got goddamned klieg lights set up. It's like staring into the sun from
ten feet away. I've been in darkness for fifty-three hours with nothing but shades o f
black. Now I've got light and nothing but light. I can't see shit. Somebody shouts, Way
to go, Cosmic! and I try to find my legs. I manage to heave them out across the
threshold, the tailgate. My feet feel heavy and useless. A hand reaches out and fits into
mine and I don't need my eyes to know it's Stacy. She pulls me to m y feet and I walk,
into the crowd, the glare. There are no words for this moment. N o images. No thoughts,
even. Or sounds. It’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined, this feeling o f entering the world.
See also Stacy Walgreen; January 30,1980; Armadillo World Headquarters
191
Harris, Emmylou -
# H z # r t fy
----------------- • ■_ ' g ^ -
This will give you an idea o f how young she was at the tim e. The Armadillo World
Headquarters had printed their m onthly events calendar in the Austin Sun, and they’d
misspelled her name as “Emma Lou H arris.” Tickets cost something like three dollars.
She was opening for Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. The Commander
was a regular at the ‘Dillo, a good tim e guaranteed, and M arty was into him for sure.
But that Emmylou Harris. Lord Jesus. Even the thought o f her.
192
Marty had a girlfriend at the time. H er name was Karolyn Coyne, but everybody
at UT called her K.C. She really did spell Karolyn with a “K ,” and she really w as from
Kansas City, on the M issouri side. K.C. didn’t really mind country music. She didn’t
really mind any kind o f music, and she liked to dance, but she didn’t like Emmylou
Harris, and she didn’t want to go see her at the Armadillo. Especially not on Valentine’s
Day. K.C. said she wasn’t jealous o f Emmylou the person. She was jealous o f Emmylou
the idea. M arty’s idea in particular.
“That’s w hat you really w ant,” she said. “Isn’t it? Som e little hippie chick with
no tits and no ass who sings harm ony and worships all the sam e music that you do.”
“She has an ass,” M arty said.
K.C. didn’t have anything to worry about in that departm ent, and she knew it too,
but she also knew that she w asn’t a cowgirl, and she wasn’t a hippie, and she dam n sure
couldn’t sing. K.C. was a sm art and pretty girl, and sometimes they had a good tim e
together. But she was no Emmylou Harris, and in 1975 this m attered to M arty
somehow. He was living in Austin, Texas at the peak o f the Progressive Country
movement. He was a sophom ore in college, he could have been like a pig in shit, and
yet he could not help himself. He literally could not help himself, and that w as his
problem. He w anted the life th at he imagined everyone around him was living. B ut he
figured that he had nobody to blame but himself. Everything that he wanted w as within
reach, and yet he did not reach. N ot outwardly anyway.
His buddy, Henry, on the other hand (H ank, as he now called himself), was
everything M arty could not bring him self to be. H e was a walking Cosmic Cowboy
cliche. A textbook hippie redneck. Really, he w asn’t missing a thing. N ot the Stetson,
193
o r the pony-tail, or the m irrored Ray-Bans. N ot the silver and turqouise bracelet. And o f
course not the tight, faded, boot-cut bluejeans. The hand-tooled pointy-toed cowboy
boots. The Pearl Beer t-shirt w ith a pack o f M arlboros tucked into one sleeve.
And he’d grown a beard. It was redder than the hair on his head, which was in
feet a little blonder than it’d ever been. Bleached by the sun, or so he claimed, from so
m uch time spent Lone Star sippin’ and skinny-dippin.’ You’d have to be his best friend
from high school to know that he was, after all, a twenty-year-old Jewish kid from the
suburbs o f N orth Miami.
Marty had tried to grow a beard too, but it was o f those scrappy Bob Dylan beards
that really looked like shit. He gave it about three months before he finally took a razor
to it—which was also around the time that he’d hooked up with K.C.
But M arty went to the show anyway, and that was the end for him and K.C.
Selected discography o f Official Emmvlou H arris releases:
Evangeline -1981
Cimarron -1981
Roses in the Snow - 1980
Blue Kentucky Girl - 1979
The Christmas Album (Light o f the Stable) - 1979
A Quarter Moon in a Ten Cent Town - 1978
Luxury Liner -1 977
Pieces o f the Sky - 1975
E lite Hotel -1975
Gliding Bird —1968
Gram Parsons w / Emmvlou H arris (official releases'):
Sleepless Nights -1976

"Love Hurts”/ "In M y Hour o f Darkness" - January 1974
Gram Parsons & The Fallen A ngels: Live 1973 —(released February 1982)
Grievous Angel - January 1974
194
Gram Parsons Bootlegs (Solo. And w / Fallen Angels. Featuring Fmmvlou Harris):
?-?-72 GP demos, hotel tapes - live & studio / B-
?-?-72 more GP demos - studio / B- / CDR
01-??-73 Dutch radio interview — (recorded in New York City?) / F M / B
2-23-73 Houston, T X - Liberty H all (incomplete show) / B o r B -
3-9-73 New York, N Y -M a x ’s Kansas C ity / B or B-
3/20/73 Boston, MA - Oliver's / B or B-
3/18/73 Boston, MA -W BCN radio (interview & 3 songs) /B(~)
See also Gram Parsons, Fallen Angels, Phil Kaufman, “V-Day”
H ell’s Angels - In print, see H unter S. Thompson’s Hell’s A n g els, Tom Wolfe’s
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. Stanley Booth’s Dance With the Devil (reprinted as
The True Adventures o f the Rolling Stonesl. On film, see The W ild Angels (1966),
Hell’s Ansels on Wheels (1969?), H ell’s Angels Forever (198-).
H ead —see also the Monkees, Burt Rafelson, Jack Nicolson, E rsatz, Performance, Ideal
Hero, Myth of Celebrity
HEARD IT ON THE X (Billy Gibbons, Dusty H ill & Frank
Beard) - ZZ Top’s rock and roll tribute to the original Border B laster, Dr.Brinkley,
and XERF.
see Border Radio, ZZ Top, World Wide Texas Tour, Almost Texas Tour.
195
H e a r s e s - These vehicles have been quote popular with rock and rollers over the
years. Proud owners o f these “party mobiles” include Neil Young, Phil K aufm an, and
David Allan Coe. N ot to mention M arty Kelso’s pal Willie Bowers,
see also Phil Kaufman, Neil Young, David Allan Coe, The Cosmic American, W illie
Bowers, NYE 1980
“Hippies” (as opposed to “Freaks”) -

Professor Leo Joseph, University o f Texas, Interviewed by M arty K elso on M arch 29,
1980, a t M arty’s apartm ent in Balcones Fault.
LJ: Interstate 35— one o f the great thoroughfares o f the United States— runs
all the way from San Antonio through Austin to Fort W orth, Oklahoma City, St.
Louis, Des M oines, Minneapolis. The great central artery; it almost bisects the
country. I was hitch-hiking to Minneapolis, spent five hours in Wichita, K ansas
in fucking July and IT WAS HOT and it was sunny, and I ’m hanging a finger
from two in the afternoon to like seven in the evening. Finally I got picked up by
two people I can only call hippies who were driving this, like e47 pickup truck,
but it was in really good condition, it looked really nice, you know...nicely
painted...black, as I recall (laughs)... But they were going all the way to
somewhere... Des Moines, o r maybe Minneapolis. A long way. I rode all night
with them. So they’re driving along and smoking joints, and in northern K ansas
we start hearing this weird noise...thought there was som ething wrong w ith the
196
m otor...so w e stopped and w e got out...and w e w ere all STONED... And there was
this DEAFENING sound o f crickets...we w ere in the cornfields o f nothem
Kansas...and there must have been millions o f crickets...there must have been 20
crickets on every com plant... and it was the m ost incredible sound to hear....out
there in the middle o f this July night... maybe it w as August... So, as w e were
riding along... I was talking to these people about the political situation {laughs)...
No, I know w hat it was—I think it was Dagwood and Blondie! And I started
commenting on, you know, w hat a horrible consum erist bitch Blondie is, you
know? The image o f their relation, which was a cash relation, you know? That
all Dagwood does is work and make money for Blondie to go out and mindlessly
spend. And these people, the hippies, they just, you know, they w eren’t interested
in that... They thought, “Aw, yo u know, Blondie and Dagwood, there ’re ju st—
They ’re cool, you know?’ They were fine— the hippies didn’t have anything bad
to say about Dagwood and Blondie! But they w ere really nice... they lived on a
farm—I think they lived on form... I think they were, like, rural people. They had
no political reactiveness, no sense o f political oppositionality, they w ere m ore into
“grooving” — and that’s w hat I ’d say is what characterizes the pure hippie— as
opposed to a freak or a head— is a kind o f naivete. I even wonder if hippies
weren’t really more the earliest stages o f the development o f the
movement... like—
197
M K : Well, when did the Yippies come along? Abbie Hoffman and that sort o f thing?
And why did they call themselves Yippies rather than hippies. I mean, the hippies did
come first, right?
LJ: Well, they were into a kind o f Dada theater thing... I keep telling you, you’ve
got to read STEAL THIS BOOK.”
MK: “ Yeah, I know... Uh, I can’t find it —it’s been stolen evetywhere.”
LJ: Abbie Hoffinan was reading Artaud...he was very influenced by Artaud...that
notion o f street theater, you know...it was connected with happenings and that
kind o f thing... But I w onder if the concept o f hippie really w asn’t bom and died
in the summer o f ‘67 in San Francisco... The moment comm erated in the musical
HAIR... But this all evolved... some hippies then became Freaks...but there was
also this notion o f THE MOVEMENT, which nobody ever mentions anymore
when they talk about the 60s...I mean, we didn’t think o f ourselves as
hippies...and we CALLED ourselves freaks...but the definition, what we were part
of, was something called The Movement, w ith a capital M ....and there were lots
o f differenct aspects or branches to the m ovem ent...it included the really radical
politicals...SDS people...it included cultural radicals...you know ... Taking acid and
listening to the music and so forth...so the name Movement has that more general
sense o f there being this...it has a lot more reality ...a lot more significance... The
198
other things are just sort o f labels... but The M ovement... th at told you how you
felt about the whole thing, you know?
Beads and flowers were over by ‘67 and ‘68... I mean, at th at time Vietnam had...
Well, remember what happened in ‘68...the conventions...A fter the conventions it
was all different...we’d lost our innocence...you know? This fucker was serious...
Um... Bobby Kennedy and M artin Luther King were assassinated in ‘68, right?
Yeah, so. Vietnam was escalating. The body count had started coming in and so
forth. So, I really think that ‘67 was, you know, the Summer o f Love was like
Sus Generis, it had almost nothing to do w ith what it alm ost immediately changed
into...
MK: “But don’t forget...W oodstock wasn’t until ‘6 9...and that w as certainly, you know—
LJ: “Right, (laughs loudly)...peace and love and all that. B ut here’s the thing. O f
COURSE, the basic IDEA o f opposition...of the nature o f opposition... was
already there, you know— in ovo— in summer o f ’67 ...o f course, the whole point
is that we W ERE green—and, um— [hearing dogs and children screaming wildly
next door] G od, do they do that a lot?
MK: No.
199
LJ: And we were for peace and love...those things rem ained... I mean, th at’s
what made us a counter-culture...(/aug/zzVig) MAKE LOVE NOT WAR, right?
(More laughter) I mean, that’s, that always has to rem ain at the heart o f it... but,
um, W oodstock, complicated things, because W oodstock— it’s hard to know
because... the people I know who went to W oodstock (sm iles) didn’t have a very
good tim e...
(Starts singing along to record playing in the background: “the man who gets lost in
M iller’s Cave. ”)
OK...two things th at were important about W oodstock. One, a lot o f people who
were at W oodstock w ere not freaks... they were sort o f that fringe phenom enon...
college students, let’s call them...you know, who were doing drugs, a lot o f them,
let’s say m ost o f them ...and they were into the music, so...w oodstock was a
mixture... but that’s significant too, because what it m eans is what we’re looking
at is a kind of...the expansion o f the concept...that w hat originally involved a kind
o f marginal group o f people who were REAL, identifiable on the margins o f
society... A t W oodstock we were seeing this thing becom e—the counter culture
had become mainstream, really.
200
Hoffman, Abbie -
Q. Can you tell the court and Jury your present age?
A. My age is 33. I am a child of the 60’s.
Q. When were you bom?
A. Psychologically? 1960.
-United States of America, Plaintiff, vs. David T. Dellinger et al.,
defendants, No.69 Crim. 180, the Hon. Julius J. Hoffman presiding,
1969.
Like Abbie Hoffman, M arty Kelso was bom , psychologically, in the sixties. 1968, to be
exact. On April 4 o f that year, M artin L uther King Jr. was shot and killed while standing
on a balcony at the Lorraine M otel in Memphis, Tennessee. On June 3, Andy Warhol was
shot and not killed when Valerie Solanas walked into The Factory office w ith a .32 and
pumped three bullets into his stomach and chest. And, then, on June 4, Robert Kennedy
was shot in the head after winning the California Primary. He was dead by June 5. But
in 1968, M arty had only been twelve years old, and so, for him, the greatest tragedy o f all
was announced on July 12, when The Miami Herald reported that The M onkees would
not be back for a third TV season. The final prim e time episode o f The M onkees would
be aired on August 19, and, so far as M arty w as concerned, his life would be changed
forever. It was already changing, in feet. He wanted to be “in” with the older guys, guys
like Henry Peterson, and so he was coming to grips with a certain upsetting reality. The
201
Monkees were not cool. Or, at any rate, it was not cool to like The Monkees— which
amounted to pretty much the same thing. N aturally, he was devastated.
M arty had only weeks ago renewed his membership to The Monkees International
Fan Club—and to “the exclusively M onkees magazine,” M onkee Spectacular. His room
was chock full o f Monkees paraphem lia, w hich he’d been collecting obsessively since
the release o f “Last Train to Clarksville” in 1966. What was he to do now w ith all o f his
Monkees Cereal Box Records, his M onkees C oat hangers, his Monkees Toy Tambourine,
Lunchbox and Thermos? And w hat about the closet full o f M onkees Sportsw ear from
J.C. Penney, the Monkees Flasher Rings, the M onkees badges, sweatshirts, and
bandanas? N ot to mention the M onkees GAF Viewmaster Reel Set, the M onkees
Songbooks, the Monkees Hardback Fiction. No more would he be seen carrying around
that Monkees Looseleaf Binder, M onkees W allet, or Monkees Record Tote. The
Monkees Playing Cards would be history, as would be the M onkees jigsaw Puzzles,
Matchbox Cars, and Monkees Fingerdolls. And never, ever, again would M arty drink
from that Large-Chain Convenience-Store Sixteen-Ounce Four-C olor Commemorative
Souvenir Cup.
And believe it or not, 1968 was the Chinese Year o f the Monkey.
Hole in the Wall, The - (’75 and o n ...)
2538 Guadalupe Street, Austin, TX
The name pretty much says it all. Doug Sahm liked it all right for a while.
202
Honeyslides -
Nell Young: {solo acoustic at the Bottom Line in New York City, 5-16-74)
So anyway w e were in this motel room . We were trying some honeyslides—I
don’t know —you know w hat a honeyslide is? Honeyslides. Mmmm T hat’s
just, you know, real poor-grade marijuana, the w orst you can get on the street,
you know. And you take it, and you— you just get your old lady, you know? If
you got one. Get her to cook up on the stove, you know , put that grass in the—
the grinder, you know, g et it real fine, put it in the frying pan, and put it on the
stove... turn the heat up a little... wait ‘til that grass ju st starts to smoke. Just a
little bit. Take it off the heat—you don’t want to bum it too long! Then you take
the honey, you know, get a half a glass o f honey, about this big—I hope you
ladies are listening ton ig ht.. .very im portant—and ah, ju st heat that honey right up
‘til it’s slippery, you k n o w .. .and ah ... mix that grass w ith it, you k n ow ... take
that fine grass that you cooked up, you know, just ‘til it started to smoke and
then—you took it off. Y ou mix those together—w ith a spoon, you know ?... in
this thing, and then y o u ... I think you should eat it, after that—yeah. Just eat it
after that. Just eat a little o f it, you know ? Maybe a spoonful or tw o. You’d be
surprised, you know—it ju st makes you feel fine. W ith th at cheap grass— it’s
great. Y ou know, in these times, you gotta think about things like that. I heard
Ry talking earlier about meatballs, you know. I got—about a hundred and eighty
meatballs where I went— I could only eat about one o f them . I saved them ,
though— they’re all in the fire— anyway, back to the m otel. We w ere ju st sittin’
203
around, having a few honeyslides... and they slow you down quite a bit, you
know ... there’s nothing to really get fast for anyw ay... and this song just sorta
came to us—we were all sittin’ around, just playing these chords... playing w ith
my friends... Rusty Kershaw, Ben Keith, ju st sittin’ around the motel ro o m ...
T.V. was o n ... {begins strum m ing his acoustic guitar, blows a harmonica intro)
Hadn’t been home in tw o m onths by then.. .trying to get my act together...
see M otion Pictures, C itizen K ane Junior B lu es
H opscotch —W ritten by Argeninian writer Julio C ortazar. One o f M arty K elso’s
favorite novels. H ere is the opening page o f Julio C ortazar’s novel, H opscotch:
TABLE OF INSTRUCTIONS
In its own way, this book consists o f many books, but tw o books above all.
The first can be read in a norm al fashion and it ends with Chapter 56, at the close o f
which there are three garish little stars which stand for the words The End.
Consequently, the reader may ignore w hat follows w ith a clean conscience.
The second should be read by beginning with C hapter 73 and then following the
sequence indicated at the end o f each chapter. In case o f confusion o r forgetfulness, one
need only consult the following list:
7 3 - 1 - 2 - 1 1 6 - 3 - 8 4 - 4 - 7 1 - 5 - 8 1-74- 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 3 - 6 8 - 9 - 104-
10 - 65 -11 - 136 - 12 - 106 - 13 - 115 - 14 - 114 - 117 - 15 - 120 - 16 -
137 - 17 - 97 - 18 - 153 - 19 - 90 - 20 - 126 - 21 - 79 - 22 - 62 - 23 - 124 -
128 - 24 - 134 - 25 - 141 - 60 - 26 - 109 - 27 - 28 - 130 - 151 - 152 -
143 - 100 - 76 - 101 - 144 - 92 - 103 - 108 - 64 - 155 - 123 - 145 - 122 -
112 - 154 - 85 - 150 - 95 - 146 - 29 - 107 - 113 - 30 - 57 - 70 - 147 - 31 -
32 - 132 - 61 - 33 - 67 - 83 - 142 - 34 - 87 - 105 - 96 - 94 - 91 - 82 - 99 -
35 - 121 - 36 - 37 - 98 - 38 - 39 - 86 - 78 - 40 - 59 - 41 - 148 - 42 - 75 -
204
43 - 125 - 44 - 102 - 45 - 80 - 46 - 47 - 110 - 48 - 111 - 49 - 118 - 50 -

119 - 51 - 69 - 52 - 89 - 53 - 66 - 149 - 54 -129 - 139 - 133 - 140 - 138 -
127 - 56 - 135 - 63 - 88 - 72 - 77 - 131 - 58 - 131 -
Each chapter has its number at the top o f every right-hand page to facilitate the search.
Hopscotch’s 155 chapters are divided into three sections:
1. From the Other Side
2. From This Side
3. From Diverse Sides (subtitled “Expendable Chapters”)
The “first” approach to reading the book (mentioned in the Table o f Instructions)
is the “norm al” or “linear” approach. According to this approach, you stop reading after
Chapter 56. This takes you through both “From the O ther Side” and “From This Side” in
numerical (o r “sequential”) order. Chapters 57 through 155 are “expendable” in this
“first reading.”
The “second” approach (which follows the TABLE OF INSTRUCTIONS) leads
the reader through all but one o f the 155 chapters (it excludes Chapter 55) in a
“hopscotching” fashion. This “second reading,” then, fits Ted Nelson’s definition o f
hypertext as “non-sequential” writing.
See Hypertext.
H.R. Pufnstuf- see M ayor McCheese, Hamburglary —
205
Hubbard, Ray Wylie -

Discography:
1976 - Ray Wylie H ubbard a n d the Cowboy Twinkies

1978 - O ff the Wall
1980 - Something A bout the N ight
see “Up A gainst th e W all R ed n eck Mother*’
Huns, The - see Raul’s, The Sex Pistols, No Fun
Hypertext - “The term ‘hypertext’ was coined by Ted Nelson, who defined it in his
self-published Literary M achines as “non-sequential w riting.” Unlike a traditional
“linear” text, a hypertext encourages the reader to “plot” his or her own reading o f the
“story.” So, in a hypemovel, for example, the reader would not proceed from C hapter
One to Chapter Two to C hapter Three, etc. Instead, the reader w ould enter the narrative
“somewhere” and commence to “navigate the narrative,” deciding which links to follow,
which links to ignore, to return to , and so on. Hypertexts, then, prom ote a less traditional
(and more textualist / postm odernist) approach to reading, language, and knowledge-
making.
The Ideal Hero —
Mimetic desire enforces conformity by championing the individual. Everyone
wishes to be a special case...yet everyone tends to be more o r less the same
because everyone tends [especially in mass culture] to admire the same
examples... [Thus] the ideal hero would be one whom no one else knows about—
who is “ours alone”— and yet whom we know w ould be everyone else’s if they
knew about him o r her, or weren’t stupid and tasteless...
-Jefferson Humphries, Mimetic Desire and the Mvth o f Celebrity, p.57
From M onty Python’s The Life o f Brian (1979):
Brian: “You are all individuals!”

Enormous Crowd down in the street below his window: “We are all individuals.”
A single bystander amid the masses: “I’m not.
M arty Kelso: W hen I was growing up in Miami, very few people knew o f the
Flying Burrito Brothers, and even fewer had heard o f Gram Parsons. And, really,
I wanted to keep it that way. It meant that I had sort of—exclusive rights to the
band. This empowered me in some odd way, made me a kind o f insider, and I
loved that! When I got to Austin, though, it was a different story. N ot only had
they heard o f Gram Parsons, but they ju st didn’t seem to care that much about
him ... I mean, they liked him all right—they ju st w eren’t blown away. In
Austin, Gram simply didn’t have the Texas-thing going for him, didn’t have the
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cache... because Austin was so FILLED with people w ith cache. You had D oug
Sahm, who, when he was only eleven years old had played onstage with Hank
Williams! Y ou had Willie N elson who’d been a made guy in Nashville before
growing a beard and pigtails and kicking o ff his shoes and doing the hippie thing
back in Texas. You had W aylon Jennings hovering about w ith his connections to
Buddy Holly. You had Leon Russell, the surviving members o f the Texas
Playboys, Janis Joplin. N ot to mention Kenneth Threadgill and Bill Neally and
people like that who were both famous and obscure. So I understood, you know?
I mean, clearly I understood. B ut it just drove me crazy anyway, because, you
know, to me, Gram was still fantastic. And then to hear him and Emmylou H arris
singing together? But I had to let go a little. At that point, the challenge w as to
come up w ith somebody else. Somebody even more brilliant and obscure. B ut I
was out o f my league in Texas. Where was I gonna find somebody to top a
Threadgill o r a W.C. Clarke o r a Townes Van Zandt?
See Authenticity, Anonymity, Celebrity, Pseudonymity, Pseudo, Rene Girard, The
Triangular Nature o f Mimetic Desire
I WANT TO LIVE (AT THE END OF A DEAD END
STREET) (H. PETE) - W ritten during Hank's tenure in Dallas, Texas. Says H ank,
"The traffic never ceased... I had recurring dreams o f cul de sacs." A southwestern
version o f the bard's, "Talkin' New York."
208
IF YOU’RE GONNA MISS ME (YOU MUST BE PRETTY
LONELY) (H.PETE) -
Hank's "Big" song. A real crowd-pleaser. Sounds like Johnny Cash; reads like bitter,
caustic Dylan. Underwent improvisational lyrical surgery with each live rendition.
THE IMAGE OF ME - a country classic by Harlan How ard.
J
Ja g g e r, Mick - see Altamont, Anonymity, W est Palm Beach International Pop
Festival, Performance, Anita Pallenberg, Keith Richards
James, Henry —see Henry Adams, Suicide o f Autobiography, Homicide o f

Biography, Pseudocide
January 31,1980 -
For a week now, he’d been telling his listeners that on Wednesday, December 31—N ew
Year’s Eve— he’d be broadcasting live from the Armadillo World Headquarters, located
at five-twenty-five and a half B arton Springs R oad. How he would m anage this, o f
course, could not be disclosed. The FCC did not approve o f his particular use, or, as
they would deem it, misuse o f N orth American airspace. To let them know where to find
him would only get him arrested hours before he could allow that to happen. And it
would happen. He was aware o f that. They w ould have to be deaf dumb, and blind for
the outcom e to be otherwise. This would only intrigue his listeners m ore, he imagined.
But this event was a big deal to XUSA listeners for a number o f reasons:
210
1.) N ot only would The Cosmic American be broadcasting from the Armadillo W orld
Headquarters, but he’d be broadcasting live performances by headliners
Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen, Asleep At The Wheel, special
guests M aria M uldaur, Turk Pipkin, and the honorable Kenneth Threadgill. And
these would be the last performances ever to grace the stage o f the Armadillo—
not to mention the walls, the ceilings, the carpet. For the Armadillo was closing
its doors. Some developer planned to tear the building down and build a high-rise
in its place.
2.) There would be no other local broadcast o f this concert. KUT was supposed to
pick it up, but they screwed up. They claimed they didn’t know it was available
to them until the last minute, and now it was too late: they had other programming
scheduled. They would, however, be helping to beam it live, via satellite, to the
National Public Radio satellite netw ork. But that wasn’t going to do anyone from
Austin much good— unless they were planning to celebrate N ew Y ear’s in
Springfield, M issouri, where KOPJ - FM was broadcast.
3.) They knew what Cosmic Am erican Music was, and they loved it. It they didn’t,
they would not be up this late listening to an AM station.
4.) They had spent many a stoned evening at the Armadillo W orld Headquarters,
drinking long-necked bottles o f Lone Star beer and grooving to the sounds o f
211
Commander Cody. They caught Van M orrison there back in 1972. Gram
Parsons in 1973. Shiva’s Headband, The Sir Douglas Q uintet, Frank Zappa &
The M others o f Invention. Paul Ray, Stevie Ray, W aylon, Willie, Jerry Jeflj
Kinky, Roky. The newer com ers had caught The Flatlanders. Joe Ely, Butch
Hancock, Jimmie Dale Gilmore. But no m atter who you might fancy: at some
point, you’d seen them at the ‘Dillo. Y ou’d lost yourself from time to tim e in the
psychedelic m urals that covered the walls, peopled w ith Jim Franklin caricatures
o f The Ragin’ Cajun, Rickie the Guacamole Queen, and Freddie King, an
armadillo exploding from his chest. Y ou’d sat cross-legged on the ‘Dillo’s beer-
stained carpeting, fed your munchies with chips and guacam ole from the ‘Dillo
kitchen, negotiated many a pothole in the ‘D illo’s alm ost-paved parking lot.
And probably there w as at least one night at the ‘Dillo in particular which had changed
your life forever. For M arty Kelso that evening had been the Saturday after Valentine’s
Day, 1975, when a young Emmylou Harris played for free.
Now, if the Cosmic American had been a disc jockey for an “official”
broadcasting company, the Hearse stunt by itself wouldn’t have been a big deal at all—it
would just be par for the course. Y ou couldn't do Progressive C ountry in Austin in those
days and not pull a stunt like this from tim e to time. Because you ju st didn’t get the kind
o f support you needed, the kind o f money, without some serious promotion. O f course,
by 1980, you couldn’t do Progressive Country in Austin, p eriod—even if you did pull a
stunt like this—because the music these stations were playing w asn’t “progressive” at all
anymore. It was either progressive where it should be regressive, o r regressive where it
212
should be progressive. T hat’s why this DJ had gone “south o f the border” in the first
place. He’d already been there, done that, until he simply couldn’t take it any longer.
Jennings, Waylon -
Waylon Jennings at J D ’s (Dec. 1964)
F olk Country (Mar. 1966)
Leavin’ Town (Oct. 1966)
Nashville Rebel (Dec. 1966)
Waylon Songs O l’ Harlan (Mar. 1967)
Love o f the Common People (Aug. 1967)
The One and Only (Nov. 1967)
H angin’ On (Feb. 1968)
Only the G reatest (Jul. 1968)
Jewels (Dec. 1968)
Just to Satisfy You (Mar. 1969)
Country F olk (w / The Kimberleys) (Mar. 1969)
Waylon (Jan. 1970)
D o n ’t Think Twice (Mar. 1970)
The Best o f Waylon Jennings (Jun. 1970)
N ed Kelly soundtrack (Jul. 1970)
Singer o f S ad Songs (Nov.1970)
The Taker / Tulsa (Feb. 1971)
Cedartown, Georgia (Aug. 1971)
Good Hearted Woman (Feb. 1972)
Heartaches B y the Num bers (Mar. 1972)
Ladies Love Outlaws (Sep. 1972)
Ruby, D on’t Take Your G uns to Town (Feb. 1973)
Lonesome On ’ry and M ean (Mar. 1973)
Honky Tonk Heroes (Jul. 1973)
Only Daddy T hat’ll W alk the Line (Jan. 1974)
This Time (Jul. 1974)
The Ramblin ’ M an (Sep. 1974)
Dreaming M y Dreams (Sep. 1974)
WantedI The Outlaws (Jan. 1976)
M ackintosh and T Jsoundtrack (March 1976)
Are You Ready For the Country (Jun. 1976)
The Dark Side o f Fame (re-release o f The One a n d Only) (1976)
Waylon Live (Nov. 1976)
OF Waylon (Apr. 1977)
Waylon and W illie (Jan. 1978)
213
White Mansions (Jun. 1978)

I ’ve Always Been Crazy (Sep. 1978)
Greatest Hits (Apr. 1979)
What Goes Around Comes A round (Oct. 1979)
M usic Man (May 1980)
Leather and Lace (w / Jessi Coulter) (Feb. 1981)
see Buddy Holly; Lubbock, Texas; Outlaw Music, Nashville, Austin, Waylon
Jennings, Tompall Glaser, Jessi Coulter, Wanted: The Outlaws (1976), Red-Headed
Stranger (1975?); Progressive Country
Jones, David - (see also David Bowie, The M onkees)
Joshua Tree, California - tow n and National Monument in the high desert
country o f the Mojave.
See also Gram Parsons, Gram Theft Parsons, Room #8,29 Palms
JUNKYARD ANGEL ( h .p e t e / d .p h i l l i p s ) - This title was stolen from a
Bob Dylan song; never recorded, "Junkyard Angel" has prompted m ore than a few o f us
(who heard it live) to question w hy more o f a songwriting partnership never developed
between Hank and Ducky. The title is lifted from the first verse o f Dylan's "From a
Buick 6.
— K —
Kaufman, Phil - see Gram Theft Parsons
Kelso, Fran - You’d have to say that M arty was his father’s son, though he and
M arty certainly d id have their differences. Fran’s Catholic name w as Francis X avier
Kelso, but nobody ever called him that, except, occasionally, M arty’s mother. Friends
called him ‘T ran,” or ‘Tranny” and occasionally ‘T ran the Man.” H e worked for a group
o f investors, solid “Americans” like himself, w ith names like Bags and Milt and Little
Dickie Stevenson. M arty used to spend a lot o f tim e with his father and these men.
Afternoons and weekends, they’d bring him along to the dogs in Hallandale, to the horses
at Hialeah or Gulfstream. M ost o f the time they sat in the clubhouse where it w as air-
conditioned and you could eat and drink and keep track o f the odds. Marty didn’t mind.
Somebody was always buying him a hot dog o r a coke or something. He was allowed to
wander around the grandstands if he wanted to , and there were a couple o f pinball
machines over by the snack bar. After school let out for the summer, he’d tag along
sometimes when the old man w ent to work. W ork could mean a day at the races; it
could mean running different errands: a “business” lunch at Oceans Eleven w ith Bags
215
O ’Brien and Uncle Jimmie, a “pick-up” at the Broward Swap M eet, a “d ro p -o ff’ in
Dania Beach. His favorite, though, was the route. They’d leave the house in total
darkness, gas up the Lincoln, and watch the sunrise over pancakes and sausage at the
Miramar Diner. His father owned several routes in South Florida, concessions o f Coin
operated machines. The local route, from N orth Miami to Fort Lauderdale, he ran every
Thursday. On Mondays or Tuesdays—depending—he’d head up to Oakland Park,
Pompano Beach, Margate, and Coral Springs.
The route was made up o f assorted bars, restaurants, pizza joints, truck stops,
mini-marts, and adult bookstores. He kept an enormous tangle o f keys and rings in the
glove box o f the Lincoln. All o f the keys w ere cylinder-shaped and labeled w ith little
bits o f worn masking-tape. Each piece o f tape had a number penned or penciled onto it
which corresponded to a number, a name, and an address typed onto a separate sheet o f
paper that w as scotch-taped to the driver’s side sun-visor. They’d pull up to the M ar
V ista Lounge, B obo’s Pizza, Lorenzo’s Quickie-M art, Hunky D ory’s. M arty’s dad
would pop the trunk o f the Lincoln and M arty would run around and grab an empty
canvas sack w ith the words B arnett Bank silk-screened across the front. Fran would chat
with the proprieter while M arty unlocked the metal coinbox, pulled out the tray, and
filled the sack w ith pounds o f jingling quarters. He opened jukeboxes, pinball machines,
cigarette m achines, pool tables, foosball tables, and air hockey tables. His lather
wouldn’t let him do the men’s room condom dispensers, even though M arty had seen the
likes o f them a million times. And Fran forced his son to w ait in the car w ith the doors
locked when they stopped at the adult video arcades with the gravel parking lots, blinking
lights, and bright yellow roll-aw ay signs. B ut, for the most part, though, he let M arty
216
have his fun on the route. They’d take a tim e-out at one o f the pizza joints, ord er a
couple o f slices apiece, and M arty could play pinball for nothing while his father enjoyed
a cigarette and a second draft beer. Everyone on the route knew Fran Kelso and
everyone seemed to go out o f their way to be nice to him and to Marty. The slices and
beer were always on the house, whether they were at Bobo’s or Imbesi’s o r Pizza 66.
The owners always asked how Mr. Basmajian was doing, and Fran always said Mr.
Basmajian was doing fine; he’d tell him hello. M arty had never met Mr. Basm ajian (and
never would) never even heard his father m ention the name except on these occasions.
M arty asked him once, who the guy w as, this Mr. Basmajian nobody saw.
“They’re his machines,” his father said.
“I thought they w ere your machines.”
Fran laughed and nodded his head dreamily.
“It’s my route” he said.
“And your quarters.”
“Som e go to me,” he said. “Some go to the proprieters, some go to Basmajian.”
“W hen do give them to him?”
“I give 'em to the bank, and they give ‘em to him.”
“B arnett Bank?” M arty asked, thinking o f the canvas sacks.
“Sure,” his father said.
“Are w e going there today?”
“It’ll be too late to go today.”
“H ow much do you get to keep?”
“I get my share,” he said. “Eat your pizza.”
217
‘H o w much does Mr.Basmajian get?”
His father didn’t answ er him. He ju st smiled and shook his head. He to o k a drag
o ff his cigarette and blew a three perfect sm oke rings.
M arty bet him he couldn’t do four in a row . His father inhaled deeply, crossing
his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. He m anaged five o f them. M arty looked over tow ard
the counter. The man who ran Bobo’s Pizza had gone back into the kitchen. M arty
leaned tow ard his father across the table. In a whisper, he said, “H ow much does he
getT
Fran Kelso put his hands behind his head, leaned back, and smiled some m ore.
He looked down across the bridge o f his nose and said, “Keep a secret?”
“I swear,” Marty said.
“Let’s ju st say,” Fran said, “I’m sure happy to be me.”
Kelso, Jimmie —In the late 60s and early 70s Jimmie w orked in wholesale, for a
company called Palmetto Distributing Corp. He was a driver for American Family
Trucking, but apparently he w as a wholesaler too. He did a lot o f w ork with rackjobbers.
Rackjobbers owned rack space in the big departm ent stores like K -M art and Sears and
J.C. Penny. Palmetto seem ed to specialize in records, cassettes, and eight-track tapes,
although M arty had heard his uncle mention other products too. Anything and everything
from keychains to Cheez W hiz. Pop Tarts, Pez dispensers, car w axes, combs,
refrigerator magnets.
218
Kelso, Renee —Back in the late sixties and early seventies, a lot o f people confused
M arty Kelso’s m other with Anita B ryant. To begin w ith, the tw o looked very much
alike: the dark auburn hair, the overt make-up, the sharp if not extrem e nose and chin and
jaw . His mother, o f course, was no celebrity or national icon, and certainly she was no
Southern Baptist (as a m atter o f fact she was Jewish), but she had, like Anita Bryant,
chosen Miami as a kind o f hom etown away from hom e, and was naively political and
patriotic in a way that made everyone else in M arty’s family want to scream. This was
true even before the Florida Orange Juice commercials (“Breakfast w ithout orange juice
is like a day without sunshine”) or th e "Save O ur Children" crusade against Gay Rights.
Like Anita, Marty’s mom saw the conflict in Vietnam as a war betw een “atheism and
God,” never-you-mind which god.
see also Daily Planet, Miami Free Press, Collectors
King, Freddie -
Freddie K ing 1934-1976 -1 9 7 7
Larger Than Life —1975
Woman Across The -1 9 7 3
Texas Cannonball -1972
G etting Ready... -1 9 7 1
see Armadillo World Headquarters, Jim Franklin.
Klaatu - A mediocre band from C anada who, in 1976, were very briefly (and quite
ridiculously, in retrospect) believed to be the Beatles, recording under a pseudonym!
219
3 :4 7 V S T fak a Klaatiri
All songs published by M agentalane Music
Side One
Calling O ccupants O f Interplanetary Craft

California Jam
Anus O f U ranus
Sub-Rosa Subway
Side Two
True Life Hero

Doctor M arvello
Sir Bodsw orth Rugglesby HI
Little Neutrino
(the album ends with a m ouse squeak)
K L B J-F M -
The Cosmic American: KLBJ was continuing to siphon o ff the more popular
country-rock stu ff that they could credibly do... In other w ords.. They would play
a Jerry Jeff W alker “Home w ith the Armadillo” type h i t , or Leon Russell country
song...what KLBJ wouldn’t play was KOKE’s more old tim e and hard country
side...they w ouldn’t play M erle H aggerd, Jimmie Rodgers, and the Carter
Family, Johnny Bush, Ray Price, the Texas Playboys... But they would play the
county-rock acts that could m ake it in pop music...so they would play probably
Gram Parsons, but they’d certainly play Willie and The Rolling Stones and the
Grateful D ead and the Band., .so they were certainty a big piece o f what Armadillo
had...and I ’m sure they became more the station and they had m ore money and ..I
think they w ere an affiliate of, I think NBC radio... whereas KOKE was run by
220
rank am ateur car-dealing rednecks, and KOOK was run by, well, Carl Stodltman,
essentially. So it just fell apart., but when KOKE FM was at its peak, it really
was much m ore attuned to w hat the Armadillo was all about than any other
station.
;KLBJFM<13,7AWRISHT/;
** FM
&
*** * v* ■ f
■r
* WE WANT JO BE THERE.....
♦
** WHENEVER “YOU” WANT US
■
♦*
**
.
TO BE THERE
*
*
**
*
**
KLRU-
26th and Guadalupe
Austin’s PBS station and home to the A ustin City Lim its live-music television series.
221
K O K E -FM —see also The Cosmic American, KOKE —FM, Goat Ropers.
Fonda Labelle: KOKE was a redneck, Texas blues, folk and country station run
by used car dealers. In mid-70s Austin, o f course, hippies were ruling the day.
Ad agencies hadn’t caught up w ith rock & roll radio yet, so there we w ere still
running commercials for headshops and waterbeds and all that stuff. KOKE had a
decent sized m arket share. They never reached w here KLBJ was on FM
rock...didn’t quite have the listenership o f KV ET...because they didn’t have the
big— you know FM signals are hard to generate over a wide range... B ut KOKE
was certainly influential in the A ustin Scene...in spite o f everything else, the
KOKE owners w ere probably able to bill at a higher rate and a little m ore
selectively than KVET. KVET was playing a song...talking...playing another
song and then, you know...5 commercials... KOKE would play 3 or 4 tunes in a
row and then m aybe 3 commercials... KOKE’s comm ercial aesthetic w as more
like FM rock at the time and didn’t sound quite as compromising...but as a result
their commercial tim e was more valuable to people and they had a m ore selective
listenership and m ore selective buyers.
KOOK - FM -
A newcomer to the Progressive Country m arket in 1975, KOOK did everything it could
to compete with stations like KLBJ and particularly KOKE.
see T he A sterisk.
222
KOOK-FM AIR SHIFTS
for week o f (m onth) (day / d a te )_______ to (day / date)
Sun Mon Tues Wed Thurs Fri Sat
6-10 Fen Fen Fen Fen Fen Fen "intern* |

AM
10 AM lin g e r 6- MF MF MF *•991 MF lin g e r b |
Tabouli Tabouti I
-2 PM
2-6 PM MF Dangerout Dangerout Fegg-fDat Dangerout Dangerous MF
Dan Dan Dan Dan
6—10PM 'intern* Fotuia Fonda FoikL Fonda Fonda Dangerout 1

Dan
10PM - (m nger fr U nger fr 6tmger ir lin g e r 6 r *•991
Tabouti Tabouti Tabouti Tabouti Day
2 AM
2-6 AM Lunar Lou Lunar Lou Lunar Lou Lunar Lou Lunar Lou Lunar Lou
****NOTE:
EFFECTIVE 12/1/80:
ALL REQUESTS for shift substitutions must be submitted at least

ONE WEEK IN ADVANCE and must be approved and initialed by both
the Program Director AND the General Manager.
*** REMINDER:
The radio intern is to be used for emergency situations only. A
day off or a hangover is not considered an emergency.
K V E T -A M
Fonda LaBelle: There was an essential dynamic that had emerged in tow n...you
had KVET, which had Sammy Allred and the Gisenslaw Brothers... A real good
dogfood, redneck radio station w ith stupid shit advertisements and hardnose,
hardcore country m usic... and had becom e self-conscious about the fact o f playing
223
Bob Wills and Merle H aggerd and Ernest Tubb and playing some o f the m ore
hard country side o f A ustin...they would play Alvin Crow, Leon Russell...they’d
play OLD Willie, they w ouldn’t play New W illie...they were AM and AM w as...
increasingly considered rednecks, whitesocks, blue-ribbon beer passe by a lot o f
the more hip types... I don’t think that KOKE had the alternative
country/progressive rock side...I think that was KLBJ... KOKE FM initially trying
to do FM STEREO (at the tim e a big deal)...you could hear this this the w ay it
was supposed to be heard...it wasn’t all scratchy and shitty like AM ...the initial
vision...was to do a KVET kind o f station...but play LP cuts in stereo rather than
45s and to notch up the sonic quality o f it all...and maybe...it wasn’t going to be
quite as redneck-ly raw ... add an element o f FM rock to it...but really ju st an FM
version o f an AM straight country station...
L
L a st W altz, The -
A Thanksgiving ritual... The rumor-legend is that N eil Young had snorted a pile o f coke
ju st before going on stage, and that, in the unedited print o f the film, you can see loose
rocks hanging out o f his nostrils. Allegedly, the filmmakers airbrushed them out o f the
close-ups.
see also E at The Turkey: The Complete L a st W altz, T he B and, A u th en ticity
LaBelle, Fonda - B om Fontana Jean LaBelle in Shreveport, Louisiana, 1940. His
parents moved to Port A rthur, Texas when he was still an infant. M arty Kelso’s ultimate
role model and Ideal H ero, Fonda managed to make a career o f his record collecting
passion. A record store ow ner and the host o f a syndicated “Roots & Influences” radio
show which premiered on KOOK FM during the form ative years o f the Progressive
Country Movement. B ut LaBelle’s primary love and vocation was his record collection,
o r perhaps it is more accurate to say collections. Official and Unofficial. In 1968,
Fonda opened Refried Records on Guadalupe Street, a shop which boasted an amazing
selection o f new & used jazz, blues, folk, country, rock and roll, and ju st about any other
225
form o f American roots music one can imagine. The shop also sported a “back room ,”
which held one o f the most impressive selections o f bootleg vinyl available on either side
o f the Rio Grande. And then there w as the basement. This was Fonda’s warehouse
and personal collection, covering m ore square feet o f vinyl than the shop itself and the
home-base o f Tu M adre R ecords, one o f the most enterprising bootleg record labels o f
the seventies. O f course, Tu M adre didn’t press all o f its records under this moniker;
that would have been foolish. In order to keep the Feds -an d even other bootleggers—
guessing, Tu M adre printed a variety o f different covers using a variety o f different label
names: New World Records, Amphetamine Voyeur, Kopy Kat Records, Vinyl-Mite
Productions. They even printed some o f their releases under the names o f their
competitors! (Fonda would never have done this to a fellow-bootlegger he respected; he
reserved this move for those he considered unduly corrupt, or who consistently released
shoddy products).
Fonda was a m entor to M arty—as a collector, a bootlegger, and a disc jockey—
and both men were utterly devastated when Refried Records was destroyed by arsonists
in late 1980.
see also G reat W hite W onder, R efried Records
Layla & IVlajnuil, the Story of - a poem w ritten m ore than 800 years ago by
a Persian poet named Nizami:
Among the legendary love stories o f the Islamic Orient, that of Layla and Majnun is probably the
best known. The two lovers live up to this day in poems, songs and epics of many tribes and
nations from the Caucasus to the interior of Africa,from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean.
226
Are these legends based on truth? Has this Bedouin youth, Qays, from the North-Arabic tribe of
Amir, named Majnun (Madman), ever lived and suffered for his Layla? We can not be certain, but
there are good reasons to believe that he did, probably in the second half of the seventh century
A.D., somewhere in the western half o f the Arabic peninsula, about 500 years before A.D. 1188
(584 H), the year in which the Persian poet Nizami wrote his poem. Nizami was the first to
make use of all the traditional versions, widely dispersed and greatly varied in-detail, which he
shaped into one great narrative poem, (xi)
—from the Translator’s Preface to The Story of Lavla & Mainun.
by Nizami (translation by R. Gelpke)
Since the twelfth century, there have been many retellings (and/or re-writings) o f
Nizami’s famous poem—Romeo and Juliet among them . M ost people are already
familiar with a twentieth century re-telling o f “Layla and M ajnun,” the one by written by
guitar hero Eric Clapton. B oth the song “Layla” and the album Lavla and Other
Assorted Love Songs were recorded and released by C lapton in 1970 under the
pseudonym Derek and the Dominos. The creative process behind the w riting o f this song
and album is rather curious. Eric as D erek chose to rew rite one o f his favorite texts at the
time (Nizami’s The Story o f Lavla and Mainun. which a friend had given him) to suit his
own interests and fantasies. His interest at this particular tim e was not ju st to record an
album He also had a very special love interest. The only problem, however, was that
she was married. N ot only w as she m arried, but she w as m arried to one o f his best
friends, ex-Beatle, George Harrison. In addition to being a song, then, “Layla” was also
a kind o f love letter, and an emotional outlet for the pop star’s pain and suffering.
Clapton had good reason to identify w ith Nizami’s tex t, for the story in many ways
227
paralelled his own. In th e Persian poet’s tale, “a young m an is driven insane when he
fells in love w ith a beautiful, unavailable woman.”
Clapton loved the sound of Layla’s name, and that, along with the general theme of the story,
became the basis of a song about his feelings for Pattie Harrison. While writing the song, Clapton
addressed Pattie as directly as possible, confessing his anguish and begging her to remain open to
his love. In three tightly written verses, Clapton stated his case and entered his plea, his song
drawing its life source form a history of heart-wrenching, musically expressed drama that could be
traced back to a Mississippidelta blues singer named Robert Johnson, and to such songs as
“Hellhound on My Trail,” “Love in Vain,” and “Crossroads.”
—from Crossroads: The Life and Music of Eric Clapton, bv Michael Schumacher (p. 147)
It is worth noting that C lapton was making more than ju st one intertextual connection
here—and in m ore than one artistic genre. In addition to the “literary” intertextual
reference to the poet Nizam i, there is the musical intertextual reference to the blues singer
Robert Johnson. “One o f the surest tests is the way a poet borrows,” said T.S. Eliot.
“Immature poets im itate; m ature poets steal” (see Text Book, p. 130). Clapton appears
to be stealing left and right during this period—and not too subtly either. N ot only does
he “steal” the name “Layla” for his title, but he even acknowledges th e theft through yet
another reference. The lyrics to track number 5 on the album, “I A m Y ours,” are
credited to “Eric C lapton and Nizami” !
see also Derek is E ric, Pseudonymity
Legendary Stardust Cowboy, The -

Bom Norman Odam o n September 5, 1947, in Lubbock, Texas. Perhaps the first to
produce what might rightly be called “cowpunk,” The Ledge, as he calls himself, is most
228
“famous” for the novehy single “Paralyzed,” an impromtu recording from 1968, with the
m ore legendary T-Bone B urnett on guitar, drum s, and trum petI The song must be heard
to be believed. Before long, the listener realizes that the vocal is being perform ed as if
the singer were indeed paralyzed. The Ledge him self is n o t, technically, crippled,
although he does appear to be a bit fried. David Bowie has acknowledged that the legend
o f Ziggy Stardust, the bisexual alien “plastic rocker,” was loosely based on the career o f a
relatively “anonymous” American rock and roll perform er nam ed Vince Taylor, who
went somewhat bonkers and could be seen raving like a madman on the streets o f London
in the late-sixties o r early-seventies.. .but Ziggy’s surname w as borrowed from the
Legendary Stardust Cowboy, one o f Bowie’s M ercury label m ates in the late-60s -and
even more o f a crackpot, perhaps, than Vince Taylor,
see Paralyzed, Ziggy Stardust.
Liberty Lunch -
405 West 2nd Street, A ustin, TX
Life of Brian, the —see Ideal Hero, Triangular N ature o f Desire, M yth of
Celebrity.
Lone Star Beer - see also longnecks, Pearl Beer, Shiner Bock.
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Longhorn Ballroom -
1027 S. Industrial Boulevard, Dallas, TX
Stacy Walgreen: I’d already been to see the Sex Pistols once already, the night
before, in San Antonio. Hank and M arty had blown that one off. Didn’t think
the road trip was going to be w orth it. N either o f them really liked punk music at
this point. This was something new —I mean it was these shows —the Pistols’ one
and only tour o f the U.S. - that made me decide to quit rodeo and start an all-girl
punk rock band. And I did it w ay before Hank and his Dead Young Cowboys.
Like I was saying, he didn’t even wanna go San Antonio, and he and M arty only
came with me to Dallas because “The Shootout in San A ntonio,” as people w ere
calling it, had made such big news. It was all over the front page o f the
newspapers. I mean, after that, all kinds o f people were buying tickets, w hether
they were into the scene or not, just to go see what was up, and to shake their
heads and stare and shit. The Longhorn Ballroom was this old arena built in the
late 40s—done up like a big red bam on the outside. I guess Jack Ruby used to
run it. A real country line-dancing kind o f place, with cheesy portraits o f country
giants on the walls and all that. This was the famous Pistols performance where
Helen Killer, a punk groupie w ho’d traveled all the way from Los Angeles, g o t up
onstage and head-butted Sid Vicious. And Sid ju st kept playing, you know?
He’d written “gimme a fix” on his chest, using his own blood, and he actually
seemed disappointed once his head stopped bleeding, because he immediately
took a broken bottle top his chest, so he could get more blood.
230
People were throwing trash at the band to o , and Sid was throwing some
back. Johnny R otten just stood there staring real hard and cocking his head that
way he always does. During “Bodies” Johnny wrapped the mic cord around his
neck, crouched over, and yelled “I don’t wanna baby that looks like me!” I can
still remember the studded leather w rist band he was wearing, the bleached out,
ripped, frayed, and slashed orange long sleeve shirt. Compared to Sid, who
shirtless, o f course, o ff balance, laughing a little, Nancy Spungen’s padlock and
chain around his neck... And Johnny: “I don’t see enough people dancing!”
A little later, somebody threw —I don’t know if it was a bottle, o r maybe a full
can o f beer—but it smashed Sid Vicious right in the face, and Sid w as all, “I think
I busted my nose open again, and that ain’t good, eh?”
Hank and M arty were a little freaked out, I think. They hung back by the
bar and the restroom . Just kept to the fringe, you know? But I was right dow n in
front. There w ere a couple o f cowboy types beside me—not real cowboys, mind
you, and not Cosmo Cowboys either, just, you know, a couple o f shit kickers—
and they seemed like they were getting a little pissed off.
“Failed again!,” Sid said to somebody, maybe one o f them . “Big tough
shit fells over,” he said. “ Should have waited to fell over.”
Everybody w as reacting at this point. The crow d, the band.
Sid says, “Yeah, it’s really crazy”
And R otten says, “Look at that, a living circus,” and the band launches
into “No Feelings.”
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Sid only had, like, one string working on his bass—he was really a mess!
with a bloody upper lip, like a crimson H itler moustache, and he was spitting into
the audience, and this guy in front row wearing a green sweatshirt starts spitting
b ack . Sid was only too happy to engage in a spit fight, you know?
So now it’s a flat out confrontation between band and audience. G len
M atlock intros the next song by saying, “This song’s called ‘Problems’ for all you
cowboys...” And when they get to the refrain o f the song, little Johnny R otten is
really putting emphasis o n “The problem is YOUX” and pointing a finger at the
audience. He even did an extended little jig! Just mocking everybody, you
know? I ju st loved it! These guys had such balls. To come to Texas and ju st
want to take on everybody. I mean, it was incredibly STUPID, but it was ballsy
nevertheless.
So “Problems” com es to a close, w ith Sid jumping up and down and
windwilling the one good string on his bass.
Johnny Rotten says, “I see we got a whole section o f the silent m ajority
over there,” and he’s looking straight tow ard M arty and Hank. Helen Killer
whispers something into Sid’s ear. Can you believe she went and fu cked him
after the show?
They play “Pretty V acant,” which has got to be my favorite Sex Pistols
song —I covered that one w ith The Peggy Suicides—and Sid’s j umping around
again, he’s suddenly got som e sort o f second wind.
Before the next song, it’s Glen at the m ic again, with an affected southern
drawl, “OK all you cow boys...this is our last number.”
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And Sid: “Y on FAGGOTSW”
The guys next to me were ju st about to explode.
Matlock: “ It’s called “Anarchy in the U S o f A”
A fan in a blue shirt starts dancing at the edge o f the stage. M ore trash throwing.
Johnny gives a thum bs up to Blue Shirt and shakes his hand. R otten looks at Sid,
winks, smiles, and nods, then tears his own shirt wide open. The song ends w ith a
spoken word: “Destroy.”
The crow d chants: “m ore, more, m ore, m ore...” Cheers, boos, cheers as
the band pushes through the backstage curtains and return to their positions. Sid
makes a couple o f rude gestures at the audience as he crosses the stage from right
to left, then says to the fans: “Y ou must be fuckin’ mad wantin’ more o f us.”
They play “NO FUN” by Iggy Pop, another one o f my all time favorites. R otten’s
now wearing a ripped black jersey, the neck rem oved and hanging low, w ith what
appears to be a rose on the front. He’s got black glove on his left hand.
“No fun!” shouts R otten.
A bleached blonde fen (Helen Killer?) in front o f Sid has what looks like a long
white straw in her m outh...a joint? Holds it up to Sid’s m outh so he can draw on
it while playing —if in feet, w hat he’s doing can be called playing!
A bunch o f trash gets thrown REAL hard... several times. Sid kisses Johnny on
the forehead. G len M atlock is looking at som ebody up in front, one o f the two
shit-kickers, pointing his guitar a little, and sneering.
A couple o f security guards come on stage. They’re an odd looking
crew... one w ith a goatee and a roll-up hat, the other beer-bellied with long hair
233
and a long biker’s beard, and they too are pointing out this guy dow n in front.
Fans start climbing onstage, including a girl who appears to be removing her
jeans. M atlock still looks pissed about something...he’s frowning and shaking his
head. The number o f fans onstage is growing... the security guards hold their
arms out in an attempt to keep them back....
Sid climbs up on the drum riser, strum s a few tim es, then hops back
down... Johnny tears open his second shirt o f the evening... stops moving around
and just starts glaring and slowly panning his gaze (stare) from left to right, w ith
his hand held stiff above his eyes like a sailor scanning th e horizon. Sid’s got
dried blood smeared across his right cheek. The show ends,
see Jack Ruby, T he Sex Pistols, Randy’s Rodeo, Stacy W algreen, N o Fun, Raul’s
Los Angeles -
Summer 1973
When Hank Pete left Miami for Los Angeles in the summer o f 1973 he w as still called
Henry Peterson, and his band—w hich Marty had named—was still called the Slow
Moving Drains. M arty never thought that Henry would actually do it, that he actually
had it in him, and he was wrong. M arty still had a year left o f high school, but Henry
was a senior and he didn’t care. H e’d had enough already, he said. And he really m eant
it too. In June he really did leave for the west coast, leaving M arty w ith tw o-forths o f a
rock and roll band, the endless hum idity o f South Florida summer, and, finally, W eslea
234
Stevens. M arty w as still a little sore about the w hole thing w ith Weslea, not to m ention
the band. G ood riddance, he thought. And he figured Henry probably felt the same way.
But Henry started w riting postcards to M arty within a m onth o f his departure, and
M arty couldn’t help writing back. Henry and Randy Marvin w ere renting a house w ith a
basement in Van Nuys. They w ere starting to find gigs in some o f the less prestigious
bars and honky tonks o f Southern Califonia. Things didn’t seem to be going too poorly,
although they didn’t seem to be going too well either. That w as fine with M arty. He
didn’t want Henry to feel too good about himself. It felt good for once not to have his
face rubbed in it. Henry was ju st getting by. M arty could handle that.
— M —
Maeretha - The only other place Marty had ever seen that name w as on the sleeve
notes to Bob Dylan’s New M orning. Maeretha Stewart: background vocals on “I f Dogs
Run Free. ” M arty noticed this some years later— the liner notes— and he thought, “No
shit. I remember that waitress.”
Magic Martinis -
In 1980, old Jordan Burke, the General manager at KOOK-FM decided to shift
Stoldtman’s duties from Program Director to “Radio Consultant,” a position that w as
relatively new at the time, a hair-brained “solution” to your typical GM ’s problem o f
what to do w ith disc jockeys like Marty, who m anaged to keep up their ratings, but had
no freaking idea how. Which w asn’t true exactly: he knew how—he played good
music—he just didn’t know how to explain it to all those capitalists up on the top floor.
They wanted him to give them a formula for his success, to do some kind o f math or
something. For Christ’s sake, w hen he’d graduated from high school he was still taking
geometry. That’s why he’d m ajored in English in college, why he’d dropped out o f
college and got him self into radio. H e’d had a good thing going this past year or so, but
236
now the suits were going to come in and ruin it. Y ou’d have thought they’d have know n
to leave well enough alone. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and all that. But no, here they’d
gone and created this position for Stoldtman, w hose job now would be to take the whole
o f Austin counterculture and reduce it to charts, graphs, and demographic statistics. For a
quality tree form radio station, this kind o f thing m arked the beginning o f the end, o f
course: the death o f rock and roll and the birth o f the great generic monster. Before
KOOK or any station like them, could commence w ith this pathetic process o f
normalization, however, they needed to hire them selves a middle man. Someone w ho
could speak both the language o f management and the language o f the jocks. This
someone was the radio consultant—though m ost o f the guys who ended up in these jobs
w ere far from bilingual. The guy before Stoldtm an (he’d lasted exactly a month) w as
management all the way. Worse even. He probably thought a tie dye was something you
asked the dry cleaners to do after you spilled cofifee down the front o f your new B rooks
B rothers suit. M arty knew for a fact this guy couldn’t tell you the difference betw een
Gram Parsons and Graham Parker. He might could have told you the difference betw een
Elvis Presley and Elvis Costello. But, hell, even Jordan Burke could tell you that. So
this is where choosing Stoldman made at least a little bit o f sense. H e looked like your
typical suit, and had since the sixties. H e could drink martinis at lunch with the best o f
them , albeit with one crucial difference: most folks like a drop or tw o o f vermouth in
their gin; Stoldtman liked a drop or tw o o f liquid LSD in his, and an olive. A little hard
to believe—but it was the stone cold truth. And the guy could handle his drugs too.
M arty had seen him in action. The man was a conservative freak. An acid-dropping
MBA. He liked good music and knew good music— no question—but he also liked to
237
make money, and he was willing to compromise his aesthetics in order to m ake a buck.
So he seemed at the time like the perfect candidate for the job— in spite o f th e feet that
Old Man Jordan and his boys were clueless about the LSD m artinis. Marty, o n the other
hand, was clued-in all too well. Stoldtman had been vice-president o f Tu M adre Records
when Marty’d first met him (the company’s slogan was: I f It A in’t Tu Madre, It Ain’t
Cookin’). Stoldtm an had also given Hank Pete and his band The Floorbirds their first
and only record contract, although no actual album ever saw the light o f day. They had a
falling-out w ith Stoldts before they had even finished recording it. Stoldtman, o f course,
maintained the rights to their bands name, and to all songs penned by Hank under that
name. He proceeded to sell a number o f these rights to radio and television advertisers.
He even proposed to turn one o f Hank’s early classics, “This Isn’t Love,” into a jingle for
a Miracle Whip commercial.
see Radio C onsultants, Tu M adre Records, The Floorbirds
M an W ho K illed M ick Jagger, The -
A very odd little novel, written by David Littlejohn and published in 1977. The story
takes place in 1969, and describes a series o f circumstances and events leading up to one
deranged rock and roll fan’s attem pt to assassinate Rolling Stone Mick Jagger during a
performance at the Oakland Coliseum on November 10, 1969. That particular concert,
o f course, has been immortalized in “real life” by one o f the first rock & roll bootlegs
ever produced, B ring It B ackA liveR . A disturbing book, m ade all the m ore ominous by
M ark David Chapm an’s non-fictional assassination o f John Lennon three years after the
238
publication o f Littlejohn’s book. W hich is not to imply that there is any direct
correlation betw een the two. Evidence now suggests that if any single text were to be
cited as an “influence” upon Chapm an’s behavior, it would have be J.D. Salinger’s The
Catcher in the Rye.
see also M ark David Chapm an, Shoot M e, Narcissistic Personality Disorder,
Nashville, Catcher in the R ye
Martin, Michael - not to be confused w ith Michael M urphey, who, in the eighties,
began to put out albums under his fu ll name o f M ichael M artin Murphey.
see also Phil Kaufman, Gram T heft Parsons, Gram Theft Parsons, M ichael (M artin)
Murphey.
Mayor McCheese —see H .R . Pufnstuf conspiracy, Hamburglary -
Memo From Turner —see Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Anita Pallenberg,
Performance, Gimme Shelter, Jorge Luis Borges.
Memo from Stoldtman —issued by Carl Stoldtman, Program Director, to the air
staff o f KOOK - FM on the day following the assassination o f John Lennon.
see December 8 ,19 8 0
239
MEMORANDOM
DATE: December 9, 1980
TO: Peggy Day

Dan Furdon
Ginger Jumeaux
Tabouli Jumeaux
Marty Kelso
Fonda LaBelle
Lou Martinez
Ken Rippy
FROM: Carl Stoldtman
SUBJECT: Mandatory Air Staff Meeting
As you all know, our normal day-to-day operations here at KOOK

have been significantly disrupted by all of the recent Death-of-
a-Beatle hullabaloo. That's par-for-the course, of course, but
it's just about time for us to get back on track.
I am calling a mandatory air staff meeting for tomorrow,

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10 at 9:30 AM. THIS MEANS YOU! !! Anyone
not in attendance is asking for a pink slip.
Hasta Manana, kids...
—C .STOLDTMAN
CC: JHM
LLT
Miami Free Press —see Daily Planet, Coconut Grove
240
Mijacogeo (The Frodis Caper) - The “final” episode o f the Monkees
television series. Aired AUGUST 19, 1968. Directed by Mickey D olenz.
A fter the T & A, M arty was running a fever and the doctors decided to keep him
overnight, just to be safe. Thank god there was a television in the room ! Maybe it
wasn’t “cool,” but M arty wouldn’t have missed that final episode for anything.
Especially not in the privacy o f a hospital room. His mother had brought him a pint
from Baskin-Robbins at around 6:30 and then gone home to fix dinner for his father and
Uncle Jimmie. The show started at 7:30. It was still only 7:00, b u t M arty already had the
station tuned to NBC. He coughed a couple o f times, felt his m outh fill w ith flem, and
spit the unpleasant gob into a tissue. He looked at the tissue in th e upturned palm o f his
hand. It was all bloody. Doctor Taub had told him to expect a little bleeding, and he was
expecting a little— but still he couldn’t resist his own imagination. W hat if he had the
consumption? Was that the same thing as TB? O r w as TB som ething else? In any case,
he imagined he was one o f those fam ous people from history, a brilliant but
misunderstood artist, on his deathbed, coughing up blood into a handkerchief. Brilliant
but misunderstood artists always died o f diseases that made you cough up blood into your
handkerchief. Either that or syphilis. M arty was ju st about to w hisper vainly his dying
words when he heard someone knock on the half-open hospital-room door.
It was Weslea! And she w as carrying a pint o f Lime Ricky from Baskin-Robbins.
“Hi,” she said. “I thought this would be good. For your th ro at, you know?”
He tried to look as tortured as possible, let his mouth hang open a bit as he
squinted in her direction. “Weslea?” he said.
241
“How you feeling?” she asked. “I called your house, you know, and your M om
said you weren’t coming hom e.” She glanced over tow ard the television; it was blaring a
Noxema commercial.
IF YOU’RE AFRAID TO LET HIM SEE YOUR SKIN—
THIS CLOSE— YOU COULD BE W ASHING YOUR FACE
THE W RONG W AY...
“Cool,” she said. “I w as hoping you’d have a TV. Tonight’s the big night,
huh?”
Marty rolled his eyes in acknowledgement.
“Poor thing,” she said, and approached the bed, setting the Lime Ricky on the
nightstand. He watched as she looked around the room for a chair, spotted one on the
other side o f the bed from w here she was standing, and opted, hesitantly at first, to sit, o r
lean as it were, against the edge o f the bed by my side.
WASH W ITH NOXEM A SKIN CREAM EVERY DAY...
5 M EDICATIONS HELP KEEP YOUR SKIN CLEAN...
C L EA R -SM O O T H ... IT ’S GREASELESS...
ALL IT LEAVES IS A GLOW...
“I’m gonna stay and w atch the show with you if th at’s okay. I told my brother to
come back for me around eight o ’clock when it’s over. H e’s gonna go to a bar, he said.”
242
...YOU WON’T BE AFRAID TO LET H IM SEE YOU THIS CLOSE.
NOXEMA. IT COULD BRING YOU— CLOSER.
M arty nodded, smiled weakly.
“Can you talk?” she said. “You got a paper and pen o r anything?”
He could talk. A little. He wasn’t supposed to talk too much, but he could
whisper if he wanted. He could talk softly. B ut he thought he liked it better this way.
She was required to pay m ore attention. H e’d talked to his m other a bit. But to Weslea
he mumbled a high pitched, inquisitive “M M m m m ”
“Here,” she said, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a small book— a diary,
probably— and tore a page out o f the back. She pulled out a pen too. It was purple, with
a white eraser. She held it out to him, and he took it. He thought for a second, then
wrote, “Thanks.” Weslea looked at it upside down, then spun the paper around. She
seemed to pause. Maybe she couldn’t read his script. He pointed his chin tow ard the
Baskin-Robbins container. Oh, he was pathetic!
“What? Sure,” she said. “My pleasure, you know? ...Hey, you want some now?”
He was about to nod, “No,” but changed his nod to “Yes” after picturing Weslea
spoon-feeding him Lime Rickey. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the empty container his
mom had brought him lying in the trash by the bed.
Weslea picked the container up o ff the nightstand and peeled o ff the lid.
“Here,” she said. “H old this a sec.” She reached into her purse again and
produced a white plastic spoon and a napkin sealed together in a cellophane packet. She
243
opened it and handed him the spoon. She held onto the napkin. M arty accepted the
spoon and sat there dumbly. W eslea surveyed the room again. “You need a dish?” she
asked. “I could go look for a dish if you think you want one.”
He shook his head politely and dug the plastic spoon into the pink and green
sherbert. He swallowed the spoonful and didn’t have to make a point o f swallowing
hard. It did hurt at first, though he enjoyed the numbing wave o f cold that followed in
pain’s wake. He swallowed a second spoonful, then scooped out a third and held it out
toward Weslea.
“Um, okay,” she said. “W e don’t have germs, right?” She reached for the spoon,
but he raised it higher and m otioned toward her mouth. Her full lips hung open, as if to
speak, but she didn’t say anything. She negotiated my arm’s reach by leaning toward
me, setting one hand down on the mattress for balance. She closed her eyes as his hand
neared her mouth. He could feel the pressure o f her tongue and upper lip as they drew the
sherbert off the spoon. Weslea opened her eyes again.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s good.”
Maybe the painkillers w ere working after all. This couldn’t be happening, he
thought. How could this be happening? Surely he was hallucinating. Dreaming. He
would wake up any minute now, a bloody tissue in his fist.
Marty tried to focus on the television screen and an advertisem ent for a new line
o f lip polish called Slickers.
I’M A LONDON GIRL. I HAVE THIS THING ABOUT M Y
IDENTITY. I NEV ER LOOK OR ACT THE SAME W AY TWO TIMES
244
IN A ROW. ALL BECAUSE OF YARDLEY’S NEW LIP POLISH,
SLICK ER
The girl in the ad kept stepping out o f th e same red phonebooth—only each time she
came out she looked completely different. N ow she was wearing a raincoat and funky
cap, now Twiggy-like pigtails, now an evening gown. W hen M arty turned back to
Weslea, he noticed th at her blonde hair to o was tied in pigtails. Had it been this whole
time? He honestly couldn’t recall W hen she’d walked in...had he noticed anything
about her hair? All he could summon up w as the image o f her wonderfully full and
unpainted lips—and the pint o f Lime Rickey.
AND YARDLEY’S E Y E L IN E R .. IT WAKES UP YOUR EYES...AND
YOU KNOW WHAT TH EY CAN WAKE UP!
M arty turned back to the television for a second, half expecting W eslea to be wearing a
raincoat or an evening gown when his eyes returned to her. But it was still the same
Weslea. Same blonde pigtails, same unpainted lips, unmade-up eyes.
“Y ou all right?” she said. ‘Y o u look—pale o r som ething.”
M arty shook his head. Below “T hank you” on the slip o f paper he w rote: “Just
glad you came.”
W eslea smiled, began to fidget w ith the napkin in her hand.
“I hope you really don’t mind,” she said. “M y coming unannounced and
everything.” She paused. “Lisa told m e she talked to you last week.”
245
M arty felt all the blood in his body rush to his head. He definitely wasn’t ready
for this.
W eslea continued. “She said she thought you w ere planning to call m e. But I
hadn’t heard from you still, and I thought, maybe...because o f your tonsils and
everything...”
M arty sort o f nodded.
“So, anyway,” she said. “I just decided to call your house.”
H e turned over the slip o f paper, w rote: “Want to see my tonsils?”
W eslea stared at the words. She grinned.
“G ross,” she said. “Y ou don’t actually have them, do you?”
M arty just stared at her.
“They d id n ’t !” she said. “Disgusting! They actually gave them to you?”
M arty shook his head, N o. “Joking,” he wrote. “Didn’t you ever hear about Mike
Nesmith’s tonsils?”
“U huh,” she said. “Tell me!”
Some Monkees fan she’d turned out to be. That story had been all over the June
‘67 issue o f Monkees Spectacular. W ithin hours o f their removal, Mike N esm ith’s
tonsils had been “liberated” from the hospital by a souvenir-seeking fen. M arty was
willing to bet she’d have heard about it if they’d been D avy Jones tonsils that were
stolen. N ow there was something he w asn’t going to miss about the M onkees. Davy
Jones. Every girl, it seemed, w ent absolutely ga-ga over over the little tw it. M arty just
didn’t get it. The guy was barely five feet tall and looked like Ensign Chekhov from Star
Trek. And you didn’t see anybody breaking down hospital-room doors to get to
246
Chekov’s tonsils, did you? W ell, at least Mike Nesm ith got that m uch attention. M arty
could have lived w ith being M ike Nesmith. He pointed at the television set and w rote:
“alm ost time!”
The episode was called “Mijacogeo (The Frodis Caper).” But he had already
seen this episode m onths ago. W hat a crock! The “final” prime time episode was a
repeat! But Weslea hadn’t seen it, she said. She m ust have missed that one.
The show closed with a guest appearance by the folk singer, Tim Buckley. He
sang a song called “Universal Soldier.” Marty had heard that song on the radio. It was
kind o f depressing, he thought. Only high school seniors and college students listened to
Tim Buckley.
“My brother Brick says folk singers are c o mm unists ,” said Weslea.
Moore, Clayton -
What makes a person w ant to groove on anonymity? That is the question. And
the answer? Celebrity, o f course! When Marty Kelso was ten years old, his
grandfather, presented him w ith a photograph signed by Clayton M oore, the actor w ho’d
played The Lone Ranger on television. It was an 8 x 10 glossy, w ith a drawing o f the
Lone Ranger’s face in the background and a photograph o f M oore superimposed in the
foreground. He stood with legs bent, arms akimbo, both pistols drawn—but w hat M arty
was drawn to was the signature. It read:
Clayton Moore
The Lone Ranger
247
N ot ju st Clayton M oore, and not ju st The Lone Ranger, but Clayton M oore The Lone
Ranger, ju st in case you might miss the connection. And at first this really bothered
Marty. He had read the books w ritten by Fran Striker — all eighteen o f them—and he
knew that The Lone Ranger’s “real name” wasn’t Clayton Moore; it w as John Reid.
Everybody knew that! The television series, which M arty’s parents and grandparents
had w atched in the 40s and 50s, had not yet been show n as re-runs. Certainty M arty
knew about them. The serial movies too. He knew that the guy in the movies was an
actor, w asn’t “real,” and yet M arty’s ten-year-old sensibility was offended by this
unnecessary disruption o f the fantasy. W ho was this guy, to come along and claim the
top billing? Every Christmas, the w hole Kelso family would go down to the Broward
Mall and have their pictures taken w ith Santa Claus. The guy in the suit and beard
looked phonier than a three-dollar bill, and he knew it too, but he didn’t go around
signing his Polaroids “ W ilfred Pelletier, Santa Claus.”
Then one day M arty’s grandfather actually to o k him to see Clayton M oore, and tit
hit M arty—like a silver bullet in the brain—the honesty, the integrity, the authenticity o f
it all. Santa Claus was a lie. The Lone Ranger w as a lie. But Clayton M oore... Clayton
M oore w as real. A little full o f him self perhaps. A little egotistical. B ut at least he
wasn’t denying anything.
From that day forward M arty w as obsessed w ith The Lone Ranger, and he was
constantly begging his father to tell him everything he could remember about the radio
and televisions shows from the thirties and forties. M ost people know the legend. The
Lone Ranger’s real name is John Reid. A s a young m an, he is one o f six Texas Rangers
ambushed in a canyon by Butch Cavendish and his gang o f outlaws. All six are left for
248
dead, but Reid alone survives. He craw ls to a nearby watering hole and is saved by a
friendly Indian nam ed— need it be mentioned?— no, o f course not.
But as M arty grew older, his interest in The Lone Ranger’s identity was not
limited to his alter-ego o f John Reid. M arty was equally fascinated by the man’s identity
as Clayton Moore. It w as M oore’s image, after all, that appeared o n the movie screen, on
television and in m agazine ads. He w as the man who appeared in public, who waved to
the children and gave them his autograph. Marty Kelso was beginning to see the light,
and it was a spotlight. The Lone R anger was a fiction, as phony as Santa Claus or the
E aster Bunny. B ut Clayton M oore w as a real man, enjoying real celebrity, and real
success.
Marty K elso: One Halloween I actually dressed as The L one Ranger, but when
people said, “Oh, you’re the Lone Ranger,” my response w as, “N o, I ’m Clayton
Moore.” People ju st didn’t get that. That I w asn’t pretending to be The Lone
Ranger. T hat I was pretending to be Clayton M oore,
see The Lone R anger, Anonym ity, Pseudonym ity, Ideal Hero
Morrison, Van -
Selected Discography o f Essential B ootleg Recordings:
1968-71 Acoustic demos - studio / A-

4-26-70 San Francisco, CA - Fillmore West / B+
09-05-71 The Inner Mystic - Pacific High Studios, CA / A- to B+
05-26-73 Wild Night Los Angeles, CA / A
1973 w/ The Caledonia Soul Orchestra - live / B
1973 Armadillo World Headquarter —Austin, TX / AUD / B+
11-11-78 NYC - The Bottom Line - live / B+
see also The Arm adillo K itchen
249
“Most Loathesome Film o f All, The” -

A review o f the Nicolas Roeg film, Performance, w ritten by John Simon for the New
York Times (Aug 23, 1970).
Mothers & Stampers —The m etal discs used to create the acetate for an original
recording are sometimes referred to as “m others” or “m asters.” The device used to
press the actual records is often called a “stamper.” B ootlegger extraordinaire, The
Rubber Dubber, got his pseudonym from the fact that th e stamper he used to press his
earliest records was a modified rubber swim fin press. H e also used to “sign” his
products (take, for example, “Jimi Hendrix Live at the LA Forum, April 25, 1970”) w ith
a “Y ours Truly, Rubber Dubber” rubber-stam ped on one com er o f the album cover,
see also Acetates, Renee Kelso, The Rubber Dubber
MOTION PICTURES (Neil Young) -

Released on the classic but long out-of-print Neil Young album, On the Beach. Neil has
only played this song live once, at the B ottom Line in N ew York City, M ay 16, 1974. see
also Honey-slldes
Multiplicity —
In his lecture entitled “Multuiplicity,” published in Six M em os fo r the N ext M illennium,
Italo Calvino describes the contemporary novel as “an encyclopedia, as a method o f
250
knowledge, and above all as a network o f connections betw een the events, people, and
the things o f the world.” The least thing, he says, “can be seen as the center o f a network
o f relationships that the w riter cannot restrain himself from following, multiplying the
details so that his descriptions and digressions become infinite” (Calvino 105, 107).
Murphey, Michael (Martin) -

Geronimo’s Cadillac - 1972
Cosmic Cowboy Souvenir -1973
From Jan Reid’s The Improbable Rise o f Redneck Rock:
Murphey was an artist attuned to business procedures, a scientific songwriter who

doubted the w orth o f his craft, a budding star w ho questioned the rock ritual but
used it to his advantage, a study in contradictions. His reserve w as at times
impenetrable, but his music appealed even to the latent sensibilities o f the
mentally retarded. (258)
see also Cosmic Cowboy Souvenir, W ildfire, ScreenG em s, T he M onkees.
Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy, The -

see also D avid Allan C oe, Rome In n , O utlaw M usic, E rsatz, A nonym ity,
Pseudonym ity
Narcissistic Personality Disorder -
Lennon suspect ‘average ’

Ex*B eatle’« n im e ligned lo em ploym ent log
From Who Killed John Lennon? ( 1989):
A narcissistic personality disorder...not mentally ill.... A narcissistic and

immature personality....a borderline personality disorder...w ithout being
psychotic...a paranoid schizophrenic with a narcissistic personality disorder...a
chronic paranoid schizophrenia and a borderline personality disorder...prim arily
paranoid schizophrenic...psychotic— m eaning having a alack o f contact with
252
reality—but also suffering from a kind o f seizure disorder...often

indistinguishable from the psychosis o f schizophrenia.... (278-79)
[see also Goldman (1988) : “pathological narcissism, characterized by a “grandiose sense

o f self-importance, fantasies o f sucesss, pow er and ideal love, indifference to the feelings
o f others, a need for constant attention and admiration, feelings o f rage shame,
humiliation and inferiority in response to criticism and entitlem ent to special favors” plus
a “proneness to manipulative suicidal gestures.” (Goldman 670).]
See also M ark David Chapm an, “Shoot M e.”
N ashville — the 1975 film by director R obert Altman.
Negative Creation -
M urder is negative creation, and every m urderer is therefore the rebel who claims
the right to be om nipotent. His pathos is his refusal to suffer. The problem for the
writer is to conceal his demonic pride from the other characters and from the
reader, since, if a person has this pride, it tends to appear in everything he says
and does.
— from W.H. Auden, “The Guilty Vicarage”
in H arper’s M agazine (May 1948): 406-12;
reprinted in M artin Priestman, Detective Fiction and
Literature: The Figure On the Carpet: N ew York:
St. Martins Press, 1991, p.20.
see also Norman O. Brown
Willie Nelson -
1961 Love & Pain
1962 A nd Then I Wrote
1963 Here's Willie N elson
1965 Country Willie: H is Own Songs
1966 Country Favorites, Willie Nelson Style
1966 Live Country M usic Concert
1967 Make Way fo r W illie Nelson
253
1967 The Party's O ver

1968 Texas in M y Soul
1968 Good Times
1969 M y Own Peculiar Way
1970 Both Sides Now
1970 Laying M y Burdens Down
1971 Yesterday's Wine
1971 Willie Nelson & Fam ily
1972 The Willie Way
1972 The Words D on’t F it the Pictitre
1973 Shotgun Willie
1974 Phases & Stages
1975 Red Headed Stranger
1976 Willie Nelson Live
1976 The Sound in Your M ind
1976 The Troublemaker
1977 To Lefty fro m W illie
1978 Waylon & W illie
1978 Stardust
1978 Willie and Fam ily Live
1979 Electric Horseman
1979 Sings Kris K ristofferson
1979 Pretty Paper
1980 San Antonio Rose
1980 One fo r the R oad
1980 Honeysuckle Rose
1981 Blue Skies
see Outlaw M usic, N ashville, Austin, W aylon Jennings, W anted: The Outlaws
(1976), Red-Headed Stranger (1975?), Progressive Country.
Nesmith, Michael (Mike) — (o f the The M onkees)

1970 - M agnetic South
1970 - Loose Salute
1971 - Nevada Fighter
1972 - Tantamount To Treason Volume I
1972 - A nd The H its J u st Keep On Cornin'
1973 - Pretty M uch Your Standard Ranch Stash
1974 - The Prison
254
N ostalgia and Slow C ountry - alternate title for Radio Free Burritos, a 2-LP
bootleg recording o f the Flying Burrito Brothers live a t the Avalon Ballroom in San
Francisco. It is commonly listed as A pril 6, 1969; how ever, this show was actually
recorded at the Avalon Ballroom in M arch 1969. Perhaps it was broadcast on June 4?)
Station identification is audible right before “Sweet M ental Revenge” (“KPFA and KPFB
in Berkeley, broadcasting live from the Avalon B allroom in San Francisco”).
Sides 1 and 3:
Close Up the Honky Tonks

Dark End o f the Street
Undo the Wrong
Somebody’s Back in Tow n
She Once Lived Here
Sweet M ental Revenge
G et Ourselves Together
Lucille
Sin City
You Win Again
H ot Burrito #1
Hot Burrito #2
Train Song
Gram Parsons (during “Som ebody’s Back in Town ”):
It’s really great the way eveybody here sits around and listens....and, uh...that’s
what this is all for. Maybe—maybe the two things are going to get together ...a
lot... and...this .this ... this should—you should dig this...this is where it all
come from: nostalgia—and slow county...”
Sides 2 and 4:
Close Up the Honky Tonks

Dark End o f the Street
Country M edley (Undo the wrong—> Somebody’s B ack in Town?)
She Once Lived here (Tow n W ithout Memories)
Sweet M ental Revenge
We’ve G ot to get Ourselves Together
255
Sin City
Lucille
You Win Again
H ot Burrito #1
Do Right Woman
You’re Still O n My Mind
The Train Song
Long Black Limousine
Sweet Dreams Baby
NOSTALGIA A SLOW COUNTRY
THE FLYING BURRITO BROTHERS
-UYE-
R B V V O B U IIO IIN
o
Oak H ill- A small rodeo arena located a little south and a lot w est o f Town Lake—
at at the bitter end o f William Cannon D rive West, near the old Bee Caves Road. You
could also get there by taking Mo-Pac B lvd SW to Fredericksburg Road.
It was a couple hours before showtim e, and Henry was taking a leak in the men's
locker room. The one reserved for rodeo personeL H e’d been dying, and there was a
huge line for the Port-O -Lets, so he’d ju st ignored the sign. On his way out he passed by
this row o f lockers and there she was, sitting on one o f the benches, struggling with a pair
o f red wrestling tights. She was stuffing a pair o f football hip pads inside o f them. Henry
figured he was looking at one more sm art-m outhed rodeo clown. A tough guy in m ake
up and tights. He kept walking, but then he heard this voice say, "M ister, hey...Give m e a
hand here? Just take you a second."
He wouldn’t have said that voice w as pretty exactly. Kind o f gruff, really, kind o f
hoarse, like she was getting over a bad cold o r something. Turned out she'd just had the
shit kicked out o f her. She'd been working the barrel during practice and a bull had used
its head to lift up the barrel, with her inside, run it straight into one o f the rails.
257
"It’s padded inside," she told him. "But it's still like rolling down a staircase
inside a washing machine."
"Never tried it,” he said.
"No," she said, looking him up and down. "I don't suppose you have."
He helped her straighten out one o f the foam pads which had bent over double
and caught itself inside the waist band. She'd taken m ost o f her gear o ff to tape-up a
popped-stitch that w as bleeding through her leggings. She was putting it all back on
now.
Henry said, "You're going out again?"
She said, "Hand me that, will you?" Stacy pointed to a roll o f silver duct tape.
He passed it to her and she wrapped her ankles with it. She put on shin guards, pulled a
pair o f white tube socks over all o f her handiwork, up to her knees. Over that, knee pads.
Then a pair o f girl's softball shoes: cleats. There were elbow pads, fringed leather gloves,
a hard plastic vest.
She said, "I get more blood than that from my monthly."
"Thanks for sharing that," he said. "Hard to believe a sweet-talking w om an like
yourself could end up w ith a gig like this."
"Too small to play pro football," she said.
"Too bad," he said. "Money's better."
"Yeah, no joke." She slipped a baggy, red and yellow striped shirt over h er chest
protector, clipped on a pair o f red, w hite and blue suspenders. "Look at you,” she said.
“In your Wranglers and pearl snaps. And your Stetson. Even got a half decent
cattleman's crease. W ho did that? Y ou go to a hatter or did you crease that yourself?"
258
"Hell, I creased it," Henry lied.
"Yeah? Let me see that."
He handed over his hat.
"It's nice," she said. "You w ant to trade?" She held up her own straw one, a
slanted 1920's style.
No fucking way, he thought. He said, "Maybe I do."
"Great," she said. "Deal."
She put on his black Stetson. It slipped dow n over her forehead like a milking
pafl. He stepped back to take a good look at her. Any woman looked that delicious with a
bucket on her head and clown m ake-up: you knew you've found yourself a keeper.
She said, "Looks to me like you're all boots and no cattle."
"I'm breaking into the local scene here," he said. “I’m a musician.”
"No shit," she said. “Well, imagine that.”
"I've got a friend,” he said, "Goes to the university. He’s got a radio show on
KUT. He plays my stuff all the tim e.”
"You got albums?" she said. “You serious.”
"Got one. I’m working on my second right now."
"That’s not bad,” she said. “B etter than m ost, I guess.”
"I guess," Henry said. “So, anyway— H ow come you don't dress in the Ladies?"
"With those Buckle Chasers?" she said. "Forget it. I'd rather dress w ith the
cattle."
"What about the other bullfighters? They don't hassle you?"
259
"They’re pigs," she said. "No question about that. Frank and G ary especially.
But no," she said. "They don't mess w ith me. I wouldn't think twice about slicing their
sacks open and feeding their balls to the dogs. They know it too."
"Right," he said, moving back a step. "See your point."
"Yours are safe," she said. ‘T or now anyway.”
ONE HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW (G. p a r s o n s ) - The
Floorbirds covered a lot o f Gram Parsons' material live. This is one o f the tw o Parsons
originals from the Byrds' Sweetheart o f the Rodeo album that Hank couldn't help but
cover again and again.
One Knight, The -

8th and Red River, A ustin, TX
The One Knight, like A ntone’s, a blues club just west o f the freeway. The Fabulous
Thunderbirds played there, The Nightcrawlers (w/ Stevie Ray Vaughan, until New Year’s
‘74, when he joined Paul Ray & Cobras, who were also regulars at the One Knight).
The Club had a coffin- shaped door and no cover charge. They closed in 1976;
apparently blues didn’t really attract enough o f the student audience.
The OOPS E ffect-

M arty Kelso: OOPS stands for Out o f Phase Stereo, which is a relatively simple
technique you can use to re-wire your stereo speakers and isolate certain sounds
260
“hidden” in stereo recordings. I learned all about this stuff from W eslea’s
brother, Brick, who w as studying engineering up in M assachusetts. Some people
simply call this set-up “left minus right” or, uh, “plus to minus and minus to
plus”—because th at’s basically w hat you do—you hook up one o f your speaker
leads to the positive connection o f th e left speaker, then you hook up the other
speaker lead to the positive connection o f the right channel. W hat happens when
you do this is— uh—I don’t com pletely understand it— but, ah, som ehow the
signals when they m ix together end up canceling each other out, so -a n d when
they do they re— they suppress certain sounds in the recording— stu ff you would
normally hear. In other words—w hatever was norm ally the same in both
channels gets cancelled out—you know ? So, it’s like— you would only hear w hat
was different in both channels—th at’s what you’d be left with, which is pretty
cool—it’s like this new way o f hearing an old recording. What w e’d do back
when we were in junior high and high school—w e’d take the balance control o f
the stereo amplifier and play with it until we found a setting that gave us the m ost
OOPSed sound, and W elsea’s brother even showed us a a way to rig it so we
could actually record the OOPSed version—which is how we came up with the
B illy Sheared bootleg, which was basically just an OOPSed version o f the Beatles
Sgt.Pepper’s album, but OOPSed it sounded like a bunch o f studio outtakes—you
know?—because all you’d hear on Lovely Rita, for example, was the lead-vocal
and only some o f the other vocal tracks and the chooka-chooka-chooka-chookas
and a few other instrum ents and sound effects. W hat you couldn’t hear was any
drums or guitar o r piano. We got 'em pressed at this plant where my Uncle
261
Jimmie knew a guy who was greedy as hell and would press anything for anybody
whose money w as green, and we made up these shitty-looking bootleg covers,
ju st like the shitty-looking bootleg covers w e’d seen and bought ourselves, and
we sold these outfakes —as they’re now called—to a bunch o f kids at our school
and even to a few record stores. And everybody was so into it— they were
amazed! H ow had we gotten our hands on these? These B eatles tracking
sessions! Back in the early seventies there hadn’t been much that had surfaced
yet in terms o f real outtakes— so this was considered a pretty big deal! I feel a
little bad about it n ow ... but what the hell w e w ere kids.
see also Pirate Recording, Billy Sheared
p
Paranoia-Critical Activity -
Paranoia —“a psychotic disorder characterized by highly systematized
delusions o f persecution or grandeur with little deterioration. In either
case, they are persistent, defended strongly by the patient, and
incapacitating.”
- Dictionary o f Psychology, ed. by J.P. Chaplin
W orking within the movement o f surrealism, Salvador Dali developed a method
o f research he called “paranoia-critical activity.” T hat is to say, Dali imitated the
systematic associations o f peculiar to paranoid behavior, which he turned into an
experimental m ethod o f research, his paranoia-critical activity, a “spontaneous
m ethod o f irrational understanding based upon the interpretive critical association
o f delirious phenomena; an organizational and productive force o f objective
chance” (Scholes, et al. 300).
As Susan Howe said, “The selection o f particular exam ples from a large group is
always a social act” (Scholes, et al. 300). It is an act both meaningful and, as Dali
called it, “obsessional.”
263
The strategy o f using “paranoia” in a critical way is to decide to take personally
the phenomena o f culture. Once an item , object, place, o r product is selected for
this attention (either intuitively or arbitrarily), one researches the selection to find
the surprising link betw een the objective and subjective materials. Language
(including discourse and all productions o f culture) is the meeting ground o f the
individual w ith the collective context (Scholes, et al. 300-301).
Parsons, Gram - The influential pioneer o f a country-rock hybridization which he
term ed Cosmic American M usic, Parsons perform ed and recorded w ith The International
Submarine Band, The Byrds, The Flying B urrito Brothers, and The Fallen Angels (with
Emmylou Harris).
Complete Discography of Gram Parsons Releases (Official):
THE SHILOS:
Gram Parsons: The Early Years, Volume I (1963-1965) February 1979
The INTERNATIONAL SUBMARINE BAND:

Safe at Home 1967
THE BYRDS:
Sweetheart o f the Rodeo 1968
THE FLYING BURRITO BROTHERS:

The Gilded Palace o f Sin March 1969
Burrito Deluxe April 1970
Close Up the Honky Tonics July 1974
Sleepless Nights May 1976
GRAM PARSONS:
"She" / "That's All It Took" January 1973
GP March 1973
"Love Hurts" / "In My Hour of Darkness" January 1974
GRAM PARSONS & THE FALLEN ANGELS:

Live 1973 (released February 1982)
264
GRAM PARSONS & EMMYLOU HARRIS:

Grievous Angel
January 1974
Selected Discography o f Essential Gram Parsons Bootleg Recordings:
GRAM PARSONS (solo, and w/ Fallen Angels featuring Emmylou Harris):

??-??-72 GP demos, hotel tapes - live & studio / B / CD (Cosmic American Music bootleg)
??-??-72 more GP demos - studio / B / CDR (on Under Your Spell Again bootleg)
Fall 1972 GP Interviewed by Jan Donkers —VPRO radio, Holland / FM / B+ / 1 CDR
02-23-73 Houston, TX - Liberty Hall (incomplete show) / B+ / CDR
03-09-73 New York, NY - Max's Kansas City / B or B+ / 1 CDR
{Yours Truly, Anonymous bootleg)
03-19-73 Boston, MA - Oliver's / B or B- / 1 CD
03-20-73 Boston, MA - Oliver's / B or B- / 1 CD
03-18-73 Boston, MA -WBCN radio (interview & 3 songs) / B / CDR
06-??-73 Tower Theater —Philadelphia, PA (w/ Emmylou, Clarence White, Gene Parsons, Chris
Ethridge, & Sneaky Pete) / AUD / C+ / 1 CDR
GRAM PARSONS W / THE INTERNATIONAL SUBMARINE BAND:

1966 - "Truck Driving Man" /A / CDR
"Sum Up Broke" / "One Day Week" / B+ or A- / CDR
"The Russians are Coming" - studio / tape source /C-
1965 - "Just Can’t Take It Anymore" / "November Nights" - studio
(singles) / A / CD (recently discovered recordings, available
only on the new "Fallen Angels" compilation, Camden Deluxe,1999)
GRAM PARSONS W / THE LEGENDS

1964- "Race with the Wind" (studio) / B +/ CDR
1962 WFLA TV studio - Tampa, FL / C or C- / 5 tracks
GRAM PARSONS w / THE BYRDS:

05-02-68 Rome - Piper Club (incomplete show?) / B- to B / CDR
07-06-68 London- Roundhouse (incomplete show?) / B to B+ / CDR
GRAM PARSONS wI THE FLYING BURRITO BROTHERS:

(* note: most of these are incomplete shows, and the accuracy o f the month & day is somewhat
questionable)
03-??-69 San Francisco - Avalon Ballroom / B+ / 1 CDR (commonly mislabeled as 04-06-69)
06-08-69 Palomino Club - North Hollywood, CA (multiple sources) / B- to B+ / 2 CDRs
07-27-69 Seattle Pop Festival - Woodenville, WA / B+ or A- / 1 CDR
12-06-69 Altamont Speedway —Livermore, CA / AUD / B / 1 CDR
1970 Los Angeles - The Troubadour / B + / C D R
(5 songs, as filler on Yours Truly, Anonymous)
1970 studio acetate / B- / 1 CDR
05-??-70 (w/ GP?) Winona, MN / AUD / B / 1 CDR / ( 6 songs )
see also Cosmic Am erican M usic, A ltam ont, Arm adillo W orld H eadquarters,
Emmylou Harris, T he Legends, T he Shilos International Subm arine Band, The
265
Byrds, The Rolling Stones, Keith R ichards, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Fallen
Angels, Phil Kaufman
Pearl B eer-
r ;
PEARL BEER J O - POOH BEAR&2j
see also long-neck beer, Lone Star, Shiner Bock
266
Peggy Suicides, The -
THE PEGGY
SUICIDES
7/ 12/78
RAUL'S
2610
W/SPECIAL GUESTS
THE COWSLUTS
see also Buddy H olly, Stacy W algreen, The Sex Pistols, Hank P ete.
267
Performance -
In the “recording” debate, a line is sometimes drawn between live perform ance and
studio work. The O ther Recording Industry acknowledges such distinctions as well. A
bootleg consists o f unreleased material recorded at concerts, studio outtakes, and radio or
TV broadcasts. A counterfeit album is an exact copy o f an officially released album. A
pirate album is, essentially, a shoddy counterfeit album; which is to say th at it consists o f
officially released m aterial but little or no attem pt has been m ade to the L P o r the
packaging look original.
Guitarist & com poser Robert Fripp, best known for his work w ith the band King
Crimson, is opposed —in theory at least—to the practice o f bootlegging live
performances. H e even w rote an essay about it. After identifying some o f the more
pedestrian concerns related to the illicit recording o f live musical perform ances, Fripp
offers the “humanistic and philosophical” reasons for his opposition to the “furtive taping
o f live music.” Says Fripp:
I am seeking the quality o f attention, o f being in the moment w ithout expectation

and w ithout history, the moment betw een the human being and the human animal
[that] behavioral psychology so terrifyingly describes. As Blake p u t it, “He who
bends him self a joy / Does the winged life destroy.” Experiencing a piece o f
music repeatedly in an active state has its own qualities and m erits. On tape,
music is music: good, bad, lively, lethargic, spirited o r whatever. In live
performance, the music is still music but there is another element: the music
mediates a relationship between the player and the listener. This relationship is
fragile and easily spoiled. To try to pin it down disrupts it, much like writing
down one’s thoughts during a m editation significantly disrupts the very process o f
meditation. For some players, this presents no difficulties, as w ith cam eras, but it
does for m e. A fter all the years and miles I’ve covered with music, I ’ve fully
realized the significance o f the relationship between player and listener; w hat in
music could be m ore primary, more valuable? To experience a piece o f music
once and only once is to experience that relationship in its most crystalline form.
It cannot be repeated: how many tim es can one lose one’s virginity?
268
“This will prove a brave kingdom to me,

Where I shall have my music for nothing.”
—Shakespeare, The Tempest
fin Musician M agazine, circa 1979)
Fripp’s passage (and Shakespeare’s) helps us to crystallize, o r to better identify at least,
the nature o f our subject M arty Kelso’s archival desire, and his subsequent repetition
compulsion— the pathological need to repeat a behavioral pattern over and over again.
In one respect, Marty’s need to collect recordings is rooted in a fascination, an obsession
with history, the history o f rock and roll (and thus, the history o f the youth culture, the
counter-culture, postm odern culture, etc.). But what are his reasons for this fascination?
What are the psychological roots o f this obsession? He may be in some respects be
caught in a state o f suspended / arrested adolescence— or more accurately, he may be
caught in a nostalgia for that adolescence, an adolescent fantasy perpetuated by rock and
roll. Fripp is correct: some things cannot be repeated; you can only lose your virginity
once. However, Fripp is referring to a purely physical experience, to live perform ance.
Recording, on the other hand, though it m ay be a fictio n , the ghost o f live perform ance, is
nonetheless a repeatable fiction, a repeatable fantasy. From a psychological standpoint
(at least from a Freudian or Lacanian standpoint), the ego itself is a fiction, structured by
the ghostly accumulation o f past “events” which can never truly be recouped. Even a
live performance, by its syntagmatic structure, its unfolding within time and space, is
technically “lost” at the very moment that any given note is produced. It is lost to
memory, “recorded” by the brain o f the listener, or the heads o f a tape deck,
remembered. Marty Kelso’s compulsion, his nostalgia for the history o f music he loves,
the creation o f that music, its origins, is admittedly less rational than Fripp’s “hum anistic
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philosophizing.” But the compulsion, it would seem, is quite human and therefore
necessarily flawed. Yet a number o f questions are raised: How many tim es can one
fantasize / imagine the loss o f one’s virginity? H ow persistently can one desire the
“lack,” the “absence,” which is, in Lacanian terms, the object o f all desire? The
answers? Indefinitely. And very persistently.
Nevertheless, the implications o f Fripp’s repetition prohibition are fascinating, as
are his observations regarding the differences betw een player and listener, for such
differences lie at the heart o f M arty Kelso’s obsession as well. Even if the player is
him self a product o f the above psychoanalytical paradox, he enjoys at least the
impression o f creation, o f spontaneity, o f performance. The player, that is, gets to play.
The listener, on the other hand, is left (potentially at le a s t) in a passive position,
although, as Fripp notes, there can be a significant relationship between player and
listener. But what, more specifically, is the significance o f the relationship? How might
we even define this relationship? Fripp doesn’t really say.
According to the French philosopher Jacques Derrida, “archive” is derived from
Arkhe, that which names at once the commencement (“there where things commence—
physical, historical, or ontological principle”) and the commandment (“the principle
according to the law, there where men and gods command, there where authority, social
order are exercised, in this place from which order is given”):
The Greek arkheion was initially a house, a dom icile, an address, the residence o f
the superior m agistrates, the archons, those w ho commanded. The citizens who
thus held and signified political power were considered to possess the right to
make or to represent the law. On account o f their publically recognized authority,
it is at their home, in that place which is their house (private house, family house,
or employee’s house), that official documents are filed. The archons are first o f
all the documents’ guardians. They do not only ensure the physical security o f
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what is deposited and o f the substrate. They are also accorded the hermeneutic
right and competence. They have the pow er to interpret the archives. Entrusted
to such archons, these documents in effect speak the law: they recall the law and
call on or impose the law. To be guarded thus, in the jurisdiction o f this speaking
the law, they needed at once a guardian and a localization. Even in their
guardianship or their hermeneutic tradition, the archives could do neither without
substrate nor without residence. (Derrida 2)
It is under such circumstances o f domiciliation, under “house arrest,” as Derrida calls it,
that archives take place. Is it also possible that, under such house arrest, Fripp’s
listener might actually become a playerl
see also Jorge Luis Borges, M ick Jagger, Anita Pallenberg, K eith Richards, James
Foxx, Nicolas R oeg, Donald Cammell, “The M ost Loathesom e Film o f All”
Ducky Phillips - Steel guitar Romeo. Formerly o f The Gepettos. Slicker than a
saxophone in the rain. Ducky is what made the Floorbirds’ cover o f "Sad-Eyed Lady O f
the Lowlands" w ork in concert— listen to any Floordbirds bootleg recorded before Ducky
joined the band) and you’ll get it. Ducky’s favorite food: pizza. Second favorite food:
escargot. Some old girlfriends: Lisa Batista (Austin); Caroline Devoto (Boston); Avis
Von Ruppert-Bismarck (Chula Vista). Num ber o f nam es in little black book: one-
hundred and thirtythree. Num ber o f little black books (referenced by year): seven.
Favorite musicians: "Sneeky" Pete Kleinow, Clarence W hite, Lowell George. Favorite
boardgame: Parcheesi (he really likes "Old Maid," but we told him, That's not a
boardgame). Ducky is French-Candadian. Origin o f nickname unknown.
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PH) (Paul-is-Dead) —Rumors had been circulating that Paul M cCartney had died
in a car crash on W ednesday, November 9, 1966 at 5 o'clock in the morning
("Wednesday morning at 5 o'clock as the day begins" - She's Leaving Hom e - Sgt.
Pepper) and was replaced by a dead-ringer. The replacem ent, a young actor named
William Campbell, had w on a Paul look-alike contest in 1966. (Was “Billy Shears,” then
a pseudo-nickname for William Campbell?) This had all been kept a secret, o f course,
but supposedly the Beatles had been planting clues in their lyrics and on album covers.
M arty and W eslea knew these clues backwards and forwards—literally. They’d
been Cluesters from the beginning. The story broke around the time that Abbey Road
was released—in late Septem ber o f ’69—and built to a frenzy by mid-October. It was a
m ajor turning point, really. They’d been listening to The Monkees since they w ere ten—
the same year the Beatles retired from the stage. The B eatles were now about to break
up, and M arty and W eslea had only just discovered them! Needless to say, they were
anxious as hell.
So they listened vigilantly to the radio. They played the albums backwards. They
spent hours analyzing every minute detail o f every Beatles album cover (som e they had
to analyze in the record store). They read every newspaper o r magazine article they
could get their hands on. In feet, the PID hoax is probably w hat first inspired M arty to
learn how to use his school library! And then, o f course, there was the local
underground press. In addition to the D aily Planet/M iam i Free Press, there was a rag
called Strawberry Fields, and another called the Glass Onion. The Onion ran an amazing
article which compiled information from all the national m ajor Paul-is-Dead (PID)
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sources: Tim H arper’s ‘Ts Paul Dead?” article (allegedly the one that started it all)
appeared in a Des M oines, Iowa college newspaper on September 17, 1969, and also in
the Chicago Sun-Times on 10-21-69. Then on October 12, 1969, D etroit disc jockey
Russ Gibb (that’s “Bigg Ssur” spelled backward) gave the rumor its first airplay during a
listener call-in segement on WKNR-FM. Shortly thereafter, New York D J Alex Bennett
o f WMCA-AM continued to pursue the rumors through his own call-in radio show.
Why would The B eatles want to cover up Paul’s Death? Certainly, it wasn’t hard to
understand why the Beatles management in general and their record company in
particular might conspire to cover up such an untimely death. The Beatles were a m ajor
commodity. How popular would they be without the “cute” Beatle? One half o f the
Lennon-McCartney song-writing team ? And then there was the issue o f how an im poster
could possibly duplicate McCartney’s unique vocals, bass-playing style, and song-writing
brilliance, b u t...
The Backwards Clues
O f all the PID clues, the creepiest w ere the ones you could hear on the records when you
played certain passages backwards on your turntable. There were tw o main audio clues
to Paul's death, both o f them on The W hite Album:
1. Revolution 9
At the very beginning o f this track, you heard a very formal British voice
repeating the phrase "Number nine" over and over again. I f you played this
section backwards, the phrase sounded like "Turn me on, dead man."
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This seemed doubly resonant/relevant considering the fact th at John had sung "I'd
love to turn you on" at th e end o f “A Day In The Life.”
2. I'm So Tired/Blackbird
“I’m so Tired” ended a b ru p tly , and, before the beginning o f th e next song,
Blackbird, if you listened carefully, there was som e unintelligible mumbling that
sounded like it could be John and Yoko. How ever, if you played this backwards,
you could hear John say, "Paul is a dead man. M iss him. M iss him. MISS HIM!"
A second "dead man" reference! And, as W eslea noted, the very next line on the
record, sung by Paul, is "Blackbird singing in the dead o f night."
I AM THE WALRUS
Cluesters argued that “Walrus” w as, in fact, Greek for “corpse,” and th at the line “stupid
bloody Tuesday” referred to a T uesday in November o f 1966, on w hich Paul M cCartney
died in a car crash. The ‘T aul L ook-alike” winner, William Campbell, w as being paid a
small fortune to stand-in for Paul. His picture can be seen in the low er right-hand com er
o f the poster that came with The W hite Album. The “egg man,” o f course, referred to
Humpty Dumpty, who’d also cracked his head wide open.
There were other clues in “I Am the Walrus” as well. If you listened carefully,
you could hear an excerpt from a radio play o f King L ear Act IV, Scene V I, and the lines:
“bury my body,” “O, untimely death,” and “What, is he dead?’ N ot to m ention the feet
that if you played the chorus o f th e song backwards on your turntable, the words “got
one, got one” turned out to be “H a, ha, Paul is dead.”
274
Pirate Recording —see also Bootleg, OOPS E ffect, Billy Sheared
Pirate’s World -
DAVID
BOWIE SPECIAL 6 H S T S
NITZINGER
FRIDAY, NOV. 1 7 — 8 F J k
PIRATE'S WORLD
S h a t id a n S t. — D a n te
ALL TICKETS 5 5 .0 0
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Novem ber 17,1972
At Pirate’s World, they'd arrived like superstars. Uncle Jimmie nosed the borrow ed
stretch Cadillac limousine into the crowd, repeatedly parting a sea o f Bowie fans until
they were parked in the V .I.P. lot closest to the Amusement Park. From outside the tinted
windows, nobody could tell who they w ere o r weren't. Y et the crowd o f people chose to
believe it was him, Ziggy Stardust, and pressed their faces to the glass, hopeful for
som ething, anything, a w indow cracked, the shadow o f a hand raised, the M ars red ember
o f a cigarette reflected in his green glass eye. There'd been no reason to get out o f the car
right away, to give up the illusion. For once M arty was inside the monkey house looking
275
out, and it was a trip. Besides, they had booze and beer and a dime bag o f M exican grass.
They had plush seats to recline in, coolers under the armrests, control panels for the lights
and stereo. Jimmie was doing poppers in the front seat with M ary, who seemed to be his
favorite o f the three community college girls he’d picked up at Tobacco Road last night.
The other two, Kelly and Elaine, sat in back in the jumpseats, chain-smoking Benson &
Hedges Ultra Lights and snubbing one lipstick-smeared butt after another into an empty
plastic champagne saucer. Henry, o f course, had been mixing (whiskey, champagne,
beer, weed) and for all intents and purposes was now a part o f the upholstery. Around
showtime he popped a couple hits o f speed he’d been hiding from the rest o f the group,
and that picked him up a little.
When finally they exited the limo, Henry stumbled out first— to the great dismay
o f the crowd. A group o f college-aged girls even booed. It w as raining still, harder than
before, as they made the slow, w et immigration from the parking lot into the Park.
Through fights and vomit and broken glass and security guards. Guys in velvet top hats.
Gals with blue and green eye shadow. Guys with blue and green eye shadow. G littered
faces and fingernails. M ake-upped, lightning-streaked. Satin shirts, silk shirts, t-shirts.
Thigh-high plastic boots with platform heels. Mini-skirts, m axi-skirts, bangles,
bracelets.
As usual, Henry had to take a piss.
“Where's the— Is it w ay the fuck over there?’ Henry pointed his paper cup
toward an exit sign all the way across the arena, sloshing beer on the orange satin blouse
o f the woman in front o f him.
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“W hat are you, retarded?”
“Somebody go with him,” Jimmie said, as H enry began squeezing his way out o f
the row. “Make sure he doesn't pass out or anything.”
Weslea leaned into M arty, scratched him on the belly.
“Don't make me go,” she said. “I wanna stick with you.”
“He's yo u r boyfriend,” M arty said.
“I know, but shit. I m ean he's being a com plete jerk. Don't you think he's being a
jerk?”
Marty raised an eyebrow but kept quiet.
“Jimmie” she said. She was whining a little. “You’re the adult here.”
“What do want me to do, hold his pecker for him ?’
“Can't you say anything w ithout bringing peruses into it? Jesus you're disturbed.”
“Oh W eslea,” he moaned. “I love it when you say the word penis!”
‘T uck you, Jimmie.”
“Okay fine,” he said. “Elaine. Do me a huge favor and go hold Henry's pecker
for him. Ill ow e you one.”
“77/ go,” Kelly said. “I gotta find a mirror anyway.”
“Hubba, hubba!” Jimmie said as Henry and Kelly blended away into the crow d.
“Hubba, H ubba?’ said W eslea. “You are so queer!”
“I want that one,” said Jimmie. “She's wild! Are you as wild as your girlfriend
there?’ He had turned to Mary. “I'll bet all three o f you are wild.”
“Are we going to do coke tonight?’ Mary answered. “You said w e’d have coke
for this.”
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“SHHHhhhh...” said Jimmie, and rested his m iddle finger against her lips.
“Later,” he mouthed.
“So you do!” she whispered, as if the others d id n t know exactly w hat was going
on. She grabbed Elaine's elbow, then whispered som ething to her that M arty couldn't
hear. The two o f them sandwiched Jimmie, leaned in real close and whispered. Jimmie
laughed and laughed.
“Oh all right,” he said finally. “You two are wild. W-I-L-D! Kelly’s gonna be
pissed!”
“Screw her,” said Mary.
“She's got her ow n agenda,” said Elaine. “Com e on.”
Jimmie shrugged at Marty and Weslea, tickled enough to blush beyond his normal
ruddiness, and the three o f them w orked their way out o f the row. He said, “Don't worry,
you two! I always take care o f my friends.” He made sure the girls w eren’t looking, then
behind their backs he m outhed: “L ater.”
“Snotty w hores,” W eslea said. “Opportunistic little sluts. You'd never sleep with
girls like them, would you Marty?”
‘I'd like som ething better, I guess. Someone. B ut she's not interested.”
“I'm taken, M arty! There's a difference.”
He couldn’t even respond to that.
“Anyway,” she said. “You had your chance.”
"What, in seventh grade?”
"Eighth."
"It was seventh, and that was ju st a tease."
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"Marty!!!"
"W ell..."
“Anyway,” she said. ‘1 meant since then.”
“You're embarrassed, that's what it is. You're embarrassed to be w ith me that way
in public.”
“Y ou’re fucked,” she said. “If anyone’s embarrassing me right now it’s Henry.”
W eslea opened her m outh and pensively hooked her index finger over her bottom
row o f teeth. She looked away from me for a few seconds, looked around.
“This is public,” she said. “We’re in a stadium full o f people. Thousands, right?”
“Big deal,” M arty said.
She pulled herself against him then, and ran her lips over his neck. She pulled
back a little, to look into his face, before pressing her m outh against his. They kissed for
a minute maybe. Maybe it was only thirty seconds. Or tw enty. He was afraid to stop
kissing her. Even once their lips had separated, her body remained tight against his.
More precious seconds. And then the lights w ent out..
The house lights w ent out, and the stage lights came on, and suddenly their bodies
were driven apart by a thunderous wave o f music and the cheers of thousands that
followed, wave upon wave, for the man who had suddenly stepped into the spotlight.
W eslea climbed onto her seat, tried to stand above the crowd to see, and when
that didn't work, was sw ept close to M arty again.
"Marty!" she called between the surges o f the rhythm section. "Marty! I can't see
him. I can't see anything."
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So he lifted her onto his shoulders. He held her bare calves in his hands, felt the
meat o f her thighs against bis shoulders, and there at th e back o f his neck, felt the w arm th
that he craved, that particular sweat, held back only by the thin cotton o f her cut-off
shorts, and by the fact that this public display o f affection would be lost in the screams
and the ecstasy o f ten thousand ecstatic Bowie fans around him, none o f whom would
ever know his name or even his face.
Progressive Country - see K O K E, KOOK, O utlaw Music, Cosm ic Cowboys,
Cosmic American M usic, GP’s interview on WLIR
Fonda LaBelle: W e used to go through KOKE’s library...and they had all these
records that were super straight country acquired in ‘71, 2, 3... That indicated that
that had been their core...when I arrived they had both an AM and an FM, they
had been simulcasting quite a bit....and what happened...this is true in a lot o f
radio stations...
As the day progressed they got looser and looser...so the morning guy was a
super-straight drive-time guy simulcasting “talking like this (hamming it up)
about MERLE” and then as the afternoon would get going things would get m ore
and more loopy and then you’d start to hear the Leon Russels and the Willies and
the Rolling Stones and GP and then the old rootsy stuff that wouldn’t be part o f
.Top 40... you know, the Jimmie Rodgers and the old Ernest Tubb and the old
280
string bands and Bob Wills...and then by nightfall they’d be o ff into the Hot Tuna
jam s and the Dead and The B and... all the FM rock-roots americana bands that no
one called that then but that everyone understood as a country-folk af£liation...so
little by little what was going on was that the day part o f the afternoon and
evening was starting to take over the WHOLE day... So in ‘74 w hen I was getting
going with them ...the battle that was being fought was between the super straight
morning guys...literally these car dealers walking around the station in their
spandex pants and white patent leather show s...and then as nighfall came and they
were gone the dope pipes came out and people w ould stand on the balcony and
outside in the parking lot with Lam ar Blvd on one side and w atch iridescent
sunsets on the other and smoke dope while the Eagles played “Peaceful Easy
Feeling”...and we thought we w ere so cool (laughs), you know?!...”
Pseudonymity - see Pseudocide
P s e u d o c i d e —see Ziggv S tardu st & th e Spiders F ro m M ars, Pseudonym ity
Q
R
Rackjobbers — see Jimmie K elso, Cut-Outs.
Radio Consultants - see T he Chain, Birthday Cards, Payola, Johnny “The
Hammer** Maria.
Radio Free BurritOS (released 1970) - see N ostalgia and Slow Country.
Randy’s Rodeo -
1534 Bandera Road, San Antonio, TX (79 miles SW o f Austin)
The site—in January 1978— o f the Sex Pistols’ infamous San Antonio show.
Over 2,000 Texans, many from Austin, paid the S3 cover charge to be insulted
and entertained in this big ballroom that was once a bowling alley. The audience
pelted the group with beer cans as they came onstage, and Sid Vicious answered:
“You cowboys are all a bunch o f fucking faggots!” By the end o f the night,
Johnny R otten had been hit in the free with a pie, and the stage had been covered
with cans. It was a chathartic show for all...” (R ock ‘N ’ Roll R oad Trip 123)
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Raul’s -
2610 Guadalupe, Austin, TX
Leo Joseph: Raul’s...only flourished for a couple o f years...across the street or
very close to across the street from the TV radio building...which has the sound
studio in which they filmed Austin City Limits... at U T ...it was a weird building...
They’ve got copper...raw copper outside... walls... which they allowed to
rust...you know and just turn to. ..the natural color o f copper and ju st across the
street was Raul’s. Raul’s was this little place...this little pillbox building...it was
quite small...and it became...all o f a sudden...the center o f the Austin Punk
scene...all o f a sudden punk...hit us...like a brick against the head...and that was a
young crow d...they didn’t just do punk...also saw Ray Campi and the Rockabilly
Rebels there... Played the stand up bass— and stand on it as he played...and there
were onloy about eight or twenty people in the audience... But m ostly they had
punk there...and Roky Erikson played there...a fucking over the top night
there...som ewhere around 70 or 71 or 72 Sterling M orrison dropped out in
Austin... But at R aul’s right around ‘76 o r ‘77 The Ramones played at the
Armadillo...and the Talking Heads...and reggae... Jimmy Cliff and Toots & the
Maytalls played at the Armadillo...
R eal L ife o f Sebastian K night, The —Novel by Vladimir Nabokov. The
question o f how the “real w orld” or “real life” gets represented in narrative (fictional and
non-fictional) is explored in many o f Vladimir Nabokov’s novels (particularly the ones
283
he wrote in English). Nabokov liked to experiment with and blur the boundaries
between (auto)biography and fiction. The first chapter o f H. G rabes’ (1977) book o f
essays, Fictitious Biographies: Vladimir Nabokov’s English N ovels, summarizes nicely
the old dispute betw een the disciplines o f fiction and nonfiction:
As long as there was a widespread tendency in literary criticism and theory to take
for granted that artistic creations in general and the literary w ork o f art in
particular exist in their ow n right being largely independent o f the reality in which
they appear, the biography was obviously in a difficult position. On the one hand,
as the life o f a definite person fixed in time and space, the biography belongs in
the region o f historiography and is in Dryden’s words “the history o f particular
men’s lives” and thus inevitably is closely bound to the very empirical reality
against w hich the literary w ork o f art asserts its autonomy, but on the other hand,
if it is to becom e more than a mere catalogue o f facts o r chain o f anecdotes, it is
also subject to the author’s shaping will and to the principles underlying the w ork
o f art, i.e. broadly speaking also belongs to the fictional sphere. And so the
literary biography naturally raises the question o f the relation between the tw o
components so aptly associated in the title o f Goethe’s autobiography Truth and
Fantasy. (Grabes 1)
Redneck Rock —see Jan R eid, Who K illed Redneck R ock
Refried Records —see Fonda LaBelle, Birthday Cards, Tu M adre Records
Regressive Country - see R usty Bell
Britt Reid —The Green H ornet’s alter ego. N one other than the son o f Dan R eid,
who was The Lone Ranger’s nephew!
284
Jail Reid —see O utlaw M usic, Cosmic Cowboys, Progressive Country, W illie
Nelson, Waylon Jennings, TompaD Glaser, David Allan Coe
John Reid —the Lone Ranger’s “true” identity.
Renaldo & Clara —see also pseudonymity
Richards, Keith —see Rolling Stones, Exile on M ainstreet, A nita Pallenberg
Rikke, The Guacamole Queen -

A notorious member o f the ‘Dillo Kitchen staff, Big Rikke (not to be confused w ith Jan
Beeman, who came along a few years later) was immortalized as p art o f the “wall art”
outside the ‘Dillo Ladies’ Room. The painting was a Robert Crumb-like caricature, a
rather threatening m aternal figure w ith full lips and an enormous bust. “WOMEN” was
w ritten prominently above her, and beside that: RIKKE THE GUACAMOLE QUEEN,
w ith a message for ALL-M EN: "If I catch any o f you guys in the ladies' john, I'm
gonna MASH you and SPREAD you on a SALAD!"
John Henley: [The Arm adillo Kitchen] was popular w ith touring musicians
because, unlike m ost other concert venues, a point was m ade o f feeding the bands
with real food, not just deli snacks, before o r betw een shows. Evidently, no one
was more im pressed by this than Frank [Zappa]. Hence, the credit on Bongo
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Fury to "the Armadillo kitchen staff, especially Jan Beeman." The actual
Guacamole Queen was an early AWHQ cook know n as Big Rikke, but she'd been
gone for a while by this time and kitchen manager Beem an had become known as
the GQ sort o f by default.
D avid M enconi: During Van M orrison’s three-night stand in 1973, Beeman had
failed to produce her fabled shrimp enchiladas, which Grateful Dead guitarist
Jerry Garcia had told him so much about in California. On his last scheduled
night in town, M orrison finally asked Beeman about the enchiladas, and she
promised to cook some up for him “the next time you’re in town.” Instead o f
waiting, Morrison arranged to stay in Austin an extra day to play an unadvertised
show on Monday (when the Armadillo was usually closed), so that he could
finally sample Beeman’s shrimp enchiladas for himself. M orrison left a $250 tip
for a new compressor for the kitchen’s walk-in cooler, which was then christened
“The Van Morrison Memorial Cold Vault.” (106)
Rio Royale Motor Inn -

The Cosm ic A m erican: That Tuesday morning [December 9, 1980] had been
gray and windy and cool. Not a great day for a swim. I got in the car at 8:30,
tuned-in KOOK on the radio, and listened to Bobby B ryant as he delivered the
midday traffic and weather report. He was predicting continued blustery winds
with a diminishing chance o f rain. I w as predicting a lousy turnout at the Rio
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Royale M otor Inn—due to inclement w eather and the recent death o f a rock and
roll icon. As I drove I kept punching the buttons on my car radio. I had them pre
set to five different stations: KOOK, KOKE, KLBJ, KHFI, and KUT. Drive time
was always the best time for me to check out the competition. This morning,
though, it was hard to tell one station from another. Everybody w as playing
Beatles songs. I picked up the guitar break to “Y er Blues” on KOKE. The
chorus o f “Imagine” on KHFI. The “goo goo goo jo o b ” o f “I am the Walrus” on
KUT. KLBJ was in the middle o f a radio spot for the Armadillo W orld
Headquarters:
AFTER 10 YEARS AND COUNTLESS NIGHTS OF MAGIC, ARMADILLO WORLD

HEADQUARTERS PROUDLY HOSTS THE LAST DANCE AT THE ‘DILLO.
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31, THE FIRST NEW YEAR’S EVE OF THE 80’S,
FEATURING PERFORMANCES BY COMMANDER CODY & HIS LOST PLANET
AIRMEN, ASLEEP AT THE WHEEL, MARIA MULDAUR, AND KENNETH
THREADGILL. TICKETS ARE TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS, AND THEY’RE GOING
FAST. WE HOPE YOU DON’T MISS OUT. WE’VE SAID BEFORE THAT THE
ARMADILLO IS NOT A BUILDING, IT’S AN ATTITUDE. WE’RE GOING TO
KEEP THAT SPIRIT ALIVE IN THE 80’S THROUGH ARMADILLO RECORDS. IF
WE’VE SUCCEEDED IN PUTTING AN ARMADILLO ON YOUR BACK, MAYBE
AN ARMADILLO RECORD CAN SATISFY YOUR HABIT. IN JANUARY,
BEFORE WE GIVE UP THE BUILDING, WE'LL BE HOSTING THE GREAT
ARMADILLO LIQUIDATION SALE AND AUCTION. SO KEEP AN EAR OUT FOR
DETAILS. AFTER 10 YEARS, THERE ARE LOTS OF PEOPLE TO THANK FOR
MAKING IT ALL POSSIBLE. BUT MOST ESPECIALLY, WE ARE GRATEFUL
TO THE MANAGEMENT, STAFF AND LISTENERS OF KLBJ - FM. HAPPY NEW
YEAR, AUSTIN. SHED NO TEARS, PLEASE. BUT RAISE YOUR CUP TO US.
AND, YES, EDDIE, THERE IS LIFE AFTER THE ARMADILLO.
I f there was one station I envied these days, it was KLBJ. They had managed, after all
this time, to keep their hearts in the right place, their fingers on the pulse o f the counter
culture in Austin. And they were loved by the good folks at the Armadillo— which
pretty much said it all. At KOOK, on the other hand, w e’d been steadily losing our
ground —and our dignity— for some time now.
287
I punched-up KOOK again. Ken Rippy dutifully paused for station
identification, then segued into ‘‘W atching the W heels,” a cut o ff o f Lennon’s latest— or
should I say final?— album.
I pulled reluctantly into a h alf empty parking lot. O f the ten or twelve cars
present, I must have recognized h alf o f them. There was Willie’s VW, Brian’s corvette,
the motel manager’s Chrysler. T he KOOK mobile unit was there — a cutomized Chevy
van with a generator, an FM transm itter, and a satellite dish.
As I entered the courtyard, I could see Willie standing at the for end o f the pool,
his back to me. H e was smoking a cigarillo and talking to Brian M orrison, our mobile
technician. Brian w as shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head. A drop o f rain or
two hit me in the forehead. I kicked o ff one sneaker and tested the water w ith m y toes.
The soup was still kind o f warm at least.
I had to do the stunt, though I really didn’t want to at this point....but G inger &
Tabouli were taking the feed at the station...all these strange spectators...w ho w ere these
people?...like a bad trip... the desire to pull a D ustin Hoffinan there at the bottom o f the
pool...
Then Stoldtm an showed up.... He looked at me, with those big black m arbles he
had for eyes. H e laid one m eaty hand on my shoulder. “Change out o f those swim
trunks,” he said. ‘I ’m sending you boys o ff to Zilker Park.”
“What’s going on there?’
“A goddam ned love fest,” he said. “That’s w hat’s going on. The tribes have
started to gather. M ust be close to a thousand people there already, under that big
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fucking Christmas tree — all crying and singing and burning candles. It’s the same deal
in the Big Apple, only they’re doing it right in the street — out there in front o f the
Dakota Building.”
He took one last drag o ff his cigarillo before tossing it into the pool.
“I wouldn’t swim in that shit if you paid me,” he said.
“That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” I said. “ A s for the rest o f us— ”
“Sorry, kid. The soup was a nice bid. Bad timing. But it was a nice bid.”
“I guess I know when not to com pete,” I said.
“I know you do,” he said. “O ur buddy there could take some lessons.”
“W ho’s our buddy?”
“The Lonesome L.A. Cowboy,” he said. “Hank. Come here a minute. I w ant to
show you something.”
I followed Stoldtman to his car. He popped open the tiny trunk o f his red
Mercedes and removed an enormous briefcase.
“Y our friend’s turned up missing,” Stoldtman said. “M ost of him has anyway.
Some o f him’s turned up in Joshua Tree is another way to put it. I’ve got a clipping
here...”
He pulled a sheet o f paper out o f the briefcase, a xerox copy o f an article from this
morning’s Los Angeles Tim es. It was on fax paper, curling at the edges. To read it I had
to hold it open with both hands, like I w as reading a scroll:
Finger points to Foul Play
289
On December 8, a housekeeper at the Joshua Tree Inn discovered a severed
human finger in the show er stall o f the room she was cleaning. Rosemary
Figuereido, forty-three, reported the incident to the motel m anager who promptly
telephoned police in nearby Yucca Valley. Officials have m atched the fingerprint
to Henry Peterson, tw enty-four, a country-rock musician who uses the stage-name
“Hank Pete.” Peterson, a part-year California resident, registered at the m otel six
days prior to the incident, and affadavits from the motel m anager, the
housekeeper, and several guests suggest th at he spent most o f the time quietly in
his room. No weapon has been discovered, and no suspects or motives have been
named. Experts have yet to determine w hether Peterson was alive or dead at the
time the finger was rem oved.
His finger, if you could believe it. I, personally, could not. Some kind o f put on,
that’s what it sounded like. Y ou had the finger—th at was already a bit much—and then
you had the room. Number Eight. Who was going to buy that kind o f coincidence? The
room carried a pretty heavy reputation to begin w ith, so for as m otel rooms go. Anybody
who knew Hank knew how crazy he was about country-rocker Gram Parsons, and
anybody who knew Gram Parsons knew about his sad and fetal cardiac arrest— in that
very same room—on September 19, 1973. Gram Parsons, dead at age twenty-six. And
here, seven years later, a single bloody digit, left by one o f his most inspired fens,
knuckle up on the aquamarine show er tile.
“Now that,” said Stoldtm an, “is what you call really bad timing. T hisLennon
thing, I ’ll tell you something — it’s big enough— it could have overshadowed anything.
290
I don’t care— it could have been the W orld Series, the Olympics, w hatever. Just name
something, anything big. That’s how big this is—it’s bigger. And this is only the
beginning too. The official memorial in Central Park isn’t scheduled ’til Sunday.
They’re predicting a turnout o f four-hundred-thousand people. Four-hundred thousand.
You just think about that. Close to h alf a million people, gathered together in the park,
singing “All You N eed is Love.” Y ou tell me, how’s a guy going to com pete with that?
A guy like who, H ank? Forget it. Goddamned Hank. Poor bastard can’t even die
right.”
R ise and F all o fZ ig g y Stardust and the Spiders fr o m M ars, T he -

“I packaged a totally credible plastic rock star—much better than any Monkees
fabrication. My plastic rocker was much more plastic than anybody’s.”
—David Bowie
Ju n e 6,1972
M arty and Weslea skipped school that morning and rode the bus to the House o f Rhythm,
out at the Hollywood M all. Henry didn’t care all that much for D avid Bowie, and he’d
turned down their invitation to come along. But W eslea and M arty had been waiting all
week for this, The Rise and Fall o f Ziggy Stardust & The Spiders From M ars, available in
record stores today. The album had been released in Britain already, but so far they’d
only heard the two singles they w ere playing on the radio: “Starman” and “Suffragette
City.”
The album opened with a fade-in. A simple drum beat. It m ade you think o f
footsteps. Like you w ere walking dow n the street w ith the narrator o f the song, as he
291
pushed through the m arket square, past the mothers and the children and “all the tall-
short people.” The song set the stage for the rest o f the album, for the rise and foil o f
Ziggy Stardust. “Five Years” was the beginning o f the story—and a countdown to the
end o f the world. “Five years,” sang Bowie. “That’s all we’ve got.”
The next song was called “Soul Love.” It didn’t seem to add a lot to the story,
except that it did introduce the them es o f love and desire—which was something. The
line that really stuck w ith M arty w as this one: “All I have is my love o f love—and love is
not loving.”
But the album really kicked into high gear w ith the next track, “Moonage
Daydream.” It was here that Ziggy really took the stage, introducing himself as, among
other things, an “alligator,” a “space invader,” and a “rock ‘n’ rolling bitch.” The lyrics
were foil o f cosmic sounds and visions too: “electric eyes” and “ray guns” and plenty o f
reverb. “Freak out,” echoed Ziggy’s voice. “A ll out. In o u t” And then Mick Ronson
went completely m ental on his electric guitar. It was during their first listen to this solo
that they blew out the left speaker on W eslea’s father’s brand new RCA stereo. A t first
it was hard to tell if all that fuzz and distortion was m eant to be part o f the recording or
not. Mick Ronson played a mean guitar, after all. B ut no, the next song was “Starm an.”
They’d heard that one on the air, and they knew how it was supposed to sound. Each
chord that Ziggy strummed on his acoustic guitar— so bright and crisp in M arty’s
memory— was now a crackling fort o f static interference.
It blew their minds. N ot to m ention their parents’ brand new speakers! They
had been only too happy to follow the instructions printed on the back o f the record
292
sleeve, beside the airbrushed photograph o f Bowie / Ziggy posed solicitously inside a red
telephone booth: TO BE PLAYED AT MAXIMUM VOLUME.
“It Ain’t Easy” closed the first album side. Out o f the eleven tracks that made up
The Rise and Fall o f Ziggy Stardust, this was the only one that Bowie hadn’t written.
The song opened with a spacey, echoing “yip yip yip” sound, although the music itself
was surprisingly traditional, a bluesy, soulful num ber. Bowie and the band held back
during the regular verses, giving the chorus a m ore dramatic soulful push. The lyrics
were filled with religious overtones, with references to the good Lord and heaven and
hell. Yet the images seemed to fit Ziggy’s character perfectly, his situation, his problems
and desires. They painted the picture of a young man standing high upon a m ountain top,
looking down at the world around him, dreaming o f even greater heights. Yet it wasn’t
easy to get to heaven, sang Ziggy. N ot when you were “going dow n.”
Side Two opened w ith “Lady Stardust,” a song about a young (male?) fen’s
infatuation with a pop star. “Lady Stadust” is long haired and graceful. People stare at
the makeup on his face. Lady Stardust, it appears, is Ziggy Stardust. Lady Stardust is a
man. This wasn’t a difficult leap to make. N ot for David Bowie, at least, w ho’d been
dressing in drag for years now. On the cover o f Hunky Dory, for example, he’d done his
best impression o f Lauren Bacall. On The Man Who Sold the W orld he’d even a put on
a dress. But Ziggy Stardust was no mere transvestite. He was bi-sexual, ambi-sexual.
Did he look more masculine o r m ore feminine? It was impossible to say. He w as neither
and he was both. His look w as completely alien. He was an alien. Ziggy took the
fullest advantage o f Bowie’s naturally high cheekbones, his petite figure, his “Snow
White tan.” He painted his face, powdered it, glossed it. He cam e o ff like a raging
293
queen one minute and a strutting cock the next. He w ore jum psuits and jackboots and a
bulge in his trousers. I f you listened carefully to the end o f “Lady Stardust,” you could
hear him whisper, “Get some pussy, now ” But was it the man in Ziggy?—o r the
woman?—who wanted that pussy?
The m an in Bowie’s Ziggy was like the man in Jagger’s Turner. A male and
female man. M arty thought o f the scene in Performance where the Anita Pallenberg
character asked the James Fox character if he’d ever had a “female feel.” He denied it, o f
course. Claimed that he felt like a man all the time. To w hich she’d replied, “That’s
awful. That’s w hat’s wrong with you, isn’t it?”
“Star” was an expression o f the archetypal rock and roll fantasy. The quest
[K.West!] for fame, fortune, and fornication. It seemed so clear from Ziggy’s example
that to be a rock and roll god was not normal. It was, in fact, abnormal. It was an act, or
in Bowie’s w ords: “a wild mutation.” I f you wanted to be a rock and roll star, you had to
“come on” like one. And w ith his new Ziggy persona, Bowie was “coming on” big time.
In 1972, David Bowie was not so famous as one might imagine. H e’d had a couple o f
hits, but he wasn’t a superstar. Ziggy Stardust was going to change all that. “Just watch
me now,” Ziggy hummed, over the final, fading chord o f “Star.”
The next three songs portrayed Ziggy and the Spiders at the height o f their fame.
“Hang Onto Y ourself’ was a full on rocker about fornication and masturbation. Ziggy’s
rewards. A groupie’s wet dream. But Ziggy would take it all too for. In the next song,
titled, simply, “Ziggy Stardust,” the entire saga was recounted by one o f Ziggy’s
bandmates. Y ou sensed this guy was a little jealous. He w as fed up with Ziggy’s fans,
not to mention Ziggy’s ego. The Spiders w ere nothing w ithout Ziggy, and there was
294
nothing they could do about it. I f Ziggy didn’t destroy himself, his fans would. And then
The Spiders would have to break up the band. “Suffragette City” provided one last blast
before the fell. And then it was time for the grande finale, for Ziggy’s “Rock ‘N ’ Roll
Suicide.”
* * *
“Ziggy is a bi-sexual space invader from the planet M ars,” said W eslea. “He
comes to earth and becomes a famous rock star.”
“B ut,” M arty added, “there are only five years left before the earth is destroyed,
so Ziggy’s tim e is running out.”
“B ut anyway it doesn’t m atter,” said W eslea. ‘“ Cause Ziggy is destroyed by his
own success.”
“H e’s destroyed by his fa n s ” M arty said.
“W hich is basically the same thing,” she said.
“He commits suicide,” M arty said.
“It is SO great,” she said.
***
Like good cluesters, Marty and Weslea spent hours exam ining every inch o f the album
cover. No detail was beyond scrutiny. N ot even the printing o f the words on the front
cover:
295
DAVID BOWIE
THE RISE AND FALL OF
ZIGGY STARDUST
AND THE SPIDERS FROM MARS
They were sure there was some significance in the fact that the names DAVID BOWIE
and ZIGGY STARDUST w ere printed in equally large letters. It meant that Bowie and
Ziggy w ere equals. A lter egos. Bowie w as Ziggy, and Ziggy was Bowie.
R o d e o - “Americans d o n t listen,” The Cosmic American said. “I’m talking about red,
white & blue Americans. Rednecks. Flag-waving, Commie-hating, Okie from
M uskogee-type Americans. But, see, I'm a Cosmic American. Half hippie, h a lf redneck.
And believe me, such miscegenation makes all the difference in the world. M erle
Haggard, for example, though I love his m usic, is a redneck. Kinky Friedman, on the
other hand, is a Cosmic American. Nudie suit- wearing B uck Owens? Redneck. Nudie
Suit-wearing Gram Parsons? The original Cosmic American. Rhinestone Cowboy Glen
Campbell? Well, he’s ju st plain pathetic. B ut, anyway, you'd think that being from this
part o f the world I'd know a thing or tw o about rodeo.”
Y ou’d think that, since he’d w orked a few Buck-Outs for Stacy as a rodeo
announcer.
He knew the rules, sure. He could describe for you the bull chute: how it’s
outlined w ith white lights. He could show you a 2,000 pound animal, bred to be irritable,
296
restrained inside that chute, outfitted with a belt three sizes too small, a flank strap, which
keeps him under control and m ad as hell. A nd o f course he could show you one insane
cowboy climbing onto that bull's back, getting a handle on the flat-braided rope, the chute
door opening, and at that same instant the cattle prod crackling behind the bull's ear. And
after that, the eight seconds o f crowd-whooping, cowbell-clanging action. The bull
thundering and bucking into the arena, trying to unseat that fool clinging to his back, the
cowboy trying to keep his free hand o ff the anim al, trying to stay on and earn the best
score he can out o f a hundred. He wants the ride to be hairy if he w ants his score to be
ninety or upwards. And he w ouldn't be out there if he didn't. T hat's where M arty’s girl
Stacy came in: hopefully, this cowboy knew how to tw o-step. B ut if he got hung-up or
dusted, her duty was to save his ass. She'd have to take the bull by the horns, as they say,
get that Brahma's attention, while the cowboy got his ass up and out o f the arena.
But really Marty didn't know shit. H e saw things, heard things, and then he made
a whole lot o f noise about it. Repeated things. I f you wanted the low-down on how to be
a successful DJ, all you had to do was remember M arty's four "R's” o f radio: Riff, Rag,
Ramble, Report. And, to be honest, reporting w as really the least o f it. He could give
you a detailed report on ju st about anything, b u t that didn't make him any kind o f expert.
N ope, the ring was the thing. Y ou wanted to m ake it sound good. You wanted to make it
interesting.
And he’d get them interested all right. These folks were crazy. On a Saturday
night? Forget it! After m idnight? You should have heard these animals! KOOK would
have the mobile unit right there in the parking lot, and Dangerous D an and M arty and
Ginger and Tabouli would be broadcasting live all weekend. They’d turn that parking lot
297
into a goddamned dancefloor. Spinning everything from Jimmie Rogers to Jimmie Dale
Gilmore. From Bocephus to The M an in Black himself. Those drunks w ould get a line
dance going that could drown out a Buffalo Jump.
RODEO WAVES (H.PETE) - T here's no critical explanation for the popularity o f

this song (except perhaps the notorious bad taste o f the masses). A live encore, when the
The Floorbirds couldn't weasle their w ay ou t o f it.
ROIO - Recording o f Illicit Origin.
ROLL ANOTHER NUMBER (FOR THE ROAD) - a N eil Young
number that epitomizes Cosmic Am erican music at its hippie-country best,
see also Albuquerque, Tired Eyes, M ellow M y Mind, Are You Ready for the
Country, Harvest, Out on the W eekend.
Rolling Stones, The -

Selected Discography of Essential Rolling Stones Bootlegs:
1979? “Static in the Attic” - Emotional Rescue outtakes / ST / A or A-

4-22-79 KEITH RICHARDS & THE NEW BARBARIANS: Toronto —Civic Auditorium C.N.I.B
Concert / B
6-14-78 Passaic, NJ - Capitol Theatre / B+ or A-
10-??-78 Sucking Don on Saturday Live (SNL show & rehearsals ‘78, plus Don Kirschner’s Rock
Concert ’73 & ’74)
1978 Pearls At Swine: ’78 Tour Rehearsals —Woodstock, NY / A- to B+
??-??-78 Some Girls Sessions - outtakes / B +
? ?-? ? -78 Some Trax II (more Some Girls outtakes) / B+
1978 RUN RUDOLPH RUN / THE HARDER THEY COME (rare 2-song 7”) / ST / B+
298
03-12&13-77 KEITH RICHARDS (w/ Ian Stewart) - “The Toronto Session” / B or B-

03-04-77 El Mocambo Club - Toronto, Canada / multiple analog sources, not DAO / B- to B+
6-7-76 Paris Pavilion —Paris, France - / B
6-27-75 Welcome Back to New York - New York City - Madison Square Garden / B+
1970-74 Acetates: various studio outtakes / A
1973 Headin’ For an Overload: selections from Brussels, BEL 10/17/73 & London, UK 9/9/73
King Biscuit Flower Hour - FM / (broadcast on 9-29-74 and 11-24-74) / A or A
02-247-73 Rocks Off! - Cricket Grounds —Perth, Australia / SBD / A-
07-77-72 Welcome to New York —Madison Square Garden, NYC / SBD / A-
(excellent stereo recording, BUT with several major skips & cut tracks; incomplete show)
06-24-72 Tarrant County Convention Center —Ft.Worth, TX / SBD / B+ or A-
1972 Unreleased Decca Live Album - Boston Garden, Philly & Texas (June- July 1972) / B
1972 The alternate Exile On Main Street (demos & outtakes) / A- to B
1971 Sticky Fingers outtakes (Tricky Fingers & Slickv Ringers boot) / A - t o B
1969-72 Ultra Rare Trax Vol. 10 - various live & studio /A- to
03-13-71 Get Your Leeds Lungs Out. Revisited - University of Leeds, UK / SBD / A or A-
1968-73 Unplugged - various “acoustic” live & studio /A to A-
12-06-69 Livermore, CA - Altamont Speedway (incomplete show) / B+
Sympathy for the Devil bootleg (“On Stage” label)
12-06-69 Livermore, CA - Altamont Speedway (complete show) / AUD / C
The “Killer” Festival bootleg (a Vinyl Gang product)
11-30-69 West Palm Beach International Pop Festival - West Palm Beach, FL / AUD / C
(aka “Miami Pop Festival” 1969)
11-10-69 Stoneaged - California Sports Arena —San Diego, CA / AUD / B
11-09-69 Live R Than You’ll Ever Be - Oakland. CA (2nd show! / AUD / B+
1968 R-S.V.P: The Alternate Beggars Banquet (outtakes) - studio /A to B+
1968-69 Beggar’s Breakfast (various outtakes) studio / A to B+
04-17-65 Olympia Theatre, Paris
1964-68 Oldies But Goldies: Live - (London from ’64 to ’68)
1963-1972 The First Decade (box set) studio outttakes & live / B+ to A
1963-1979 Performances (box set) studio outttakes & live / B+ to A
1963-69 Ultra Rare Trax Vol.5 / Studio & live / A-to B+
1963-65 Bright Lights. Big City - demos & live
see also Altamont, Gimmer Shelter, W est Palm Beach International Music Festival
Rubber Dubber, The -

Bootlegger extraordinaire. One o f the first and best. “W anted,” as The Daily Planet
reported, ‘T o r Beating the Fat Cats at their Own Game.” One o f M arty Kelso’s true
heroes o f anonymity.
see also mothers, stampers, bootleg, ROIO
299
---
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thoroughly Investigate tto loos ( m t n * -dealing eiQv busUUbs sod consumer*. bookkeepers, art Md promonon depa o 'l dropplsg my* and the artists tham-
me UUl activity. Mo Ming Out by M l. rtments - everything e lse abort of In s e lv e s . eapeclally eUhttotnauguretlao
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SAD-EYED LADY OF THE LOWLANDS (B. d y l a n ) -
It's hard to imagine anyone covering Dylan's hardly-veiled wedding song for Sarah
Lowndes and getting away w ith it. First time out, Hank didn't. The Slow M oving Drains
version is almost exactly what that form er incarnation o f the Floorbirds' name suggested:
slow-moving and drained. Dylan might proceed at such dirge-like pace and successfully
celebrate "woman as w ork o f art, religious figure, and object o f eternal m ajesty and
wonder" (Shelton 325); but almost by definition, w hat w orks for Dylan does n o t work for
anyone else. The Byrds tended to fall into this same trap (until Gram Parsons cam e along
and convinced them "they should be doing country music instead o f trying to w rite their
own Bob Dylan m aterial"). Some, notably Harold Lotz, have argued that H ank Pete
merely transferred such "erroneous shadowplay" to Parsons instead o f Dylan; but it's
difficult to listen to any o f the various bootleg recordings o f Hank's live treatm ent o f
"Sad-Eyed Lady" and dismiss it as such. This num ber witnesses the Floorbirds head-on
into Cosmic American Music.
see also Bob Dylan
301
Sahm, D oug-
The Best o f S ir Douglas Q uintet (1965)
S ir Douglas Q uintet + 2 = (H onkey Blues) (1968)
Mendocino - Sir Douglas Q uintet (1969)
Together A fter Five - Sir D ouglas Quintet (1970)
1 + 1 + 1 = 4 - S ir Douglas Q uintet (1970)
The Return o f D oug Saldana - Sir Douglas Quintet (1971)
Rough Edges - S ir Douglas Q uintet (1973)
Doug Sahm and B and (1973)
Texas Tornado - The Sir D ouglas Band (1973)
Groover's Paradise - Doug Sahm (1974)
Texas Rock For Country Rollers - Sir Doug and the Texas Tornados (1976)
Live Love - Sir Douglas Q uintet (1977)
The Tracker - S ir Douglas Q uintet (1977)
Wanted - Very M uch Alive - S ir Douglas Q uintet (Re-Issue o f "Live Love, "1979)
Sir Doug Way B ack When H e Was Just D oug Sahm (1979)
H ell o f a Spell - D oug Sahm (1980)
The Best o f Sir D ouglas Q uintet (1980)
Border Wave - S ir Douglas Q uintet (1981)
see also Sir Douglas Quintet, Groover’s Paradise, Augie Meyers, Soap Creek Saloon
Savings —
1972. Sometimes Marty wished he could ju st make him self disappear. Literally, just
disappear. H e’d been learning how to do it, in fact— from two books on the subject:
How to Disappear Completely and Never Be Found by Doug Richmond, and The Heavy
Duty New Identity by John Q . Newman. H e’d picked them at the Broward Swap Meet
from a guy named Pudge. Pudge had a whole table full o f subversive reading material.
The Making o f a Counter Culture. Seeing Through Shuck. The Greening o f America.
He had Jerry Rubin’s Do It! and Abbey Hoffinan’s Steal This B ook. He had A Child’s
Garden o f Grass and The A narchist’s Cookbook.
302
Marty and Weslea had two-hundred dollars in a joint savings account. Tips from
her job at Howard Johnson’s. M arty’s share o f the profits from the Derek is Eric
bootleg. For a while now, they’d been planning their escape: from the Gold Coast to
Colorado, via Texas, where a friend o f a friend’s older brother had promised us
connections like weed and red-cap mushrooms and work in Gouldbusk or Nacogdoches
or Lubbock. M arty didn’t care where, really, so much as when and why and how come
they hadn’t slept together yet, considering how close they’d become. And yet she
couldn’t. W ouldn’t. Just that one time, about a year ago, in her father’s basement, his
hand wedged into her jeans, still buttoned, and she with m ore experience, obviously, still
unable to do it, to make it all the way. They w ere best friends, she said. And, besides,
she was seeing Henry now.
But the money stayed in the bank, and they continued to talk about it, as though it
might happen still. She still drew pictures on M arty’s notebook during Geometry. O f the
Colorado Rockies, and Texas oil rigs. W hat the hell was she thinking? M arty had no
idea. But he had no desire to put her off the idea either. She was confused obviously.
Conflicted. But maybe she’d figure things out eventually. Maybe, eventually, she’d
choose Marty.
SEEDS & STEMS AGAIN BLUES (Billy C. F arlow —G eorge F rayne ) —
Some o f Commander Cody’s m ore Cosmic American lyics. The song is built around a
standard country-blues conceit— the singer’s lost his woman, his job, even his shoes—
with the added tw ist that even his grass is alm ost gone.
September 19,1973 -
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Sex Pistols —see also Randy’s Rodeo, Longhorn Ballroom, Inner Sanctum
Records, Raul's, No Fun, Stacy Walgreen
SHE MIGHT BE SOMEBODY'S MAMA (H . p e t e / J. g e o r g e )
Beauty Marks m arked Hank Pete's bonafide lyrical debut. Gone w ere the sophmoric
304
epithets and crude innuendos. In their place stood complex tropes on the "high and
lonesome" country & western conceit. With a little help from his new friend John Paul
George, Hank delivered this gem, a wry lament on guilt because o f sin because o f pain.
The song m anages to intertwine the haunting slow blues o f Garcia/Hunter's "It M ust
Have Been the Roses" with the tearful good hum or o f just about any John Prine
composition. Obligatory to Hank's live repetoire.
Shilos, The —see Gram Parsons, The Journeymen, Kingston Trio, Folk M usic
“Shoot Me!” -
T he Cosm ic A m erican: The “conference room ” was Stoldtm an’s euphemism for the
break room at KOOK: the only space in the building large enough to seat the entire staff.
It was a kitchen, essentially, equipped with a coffee maker, a sink, a refrigerator, and two
long rectangular tables—the kind with folding m etal legs and an imitation w oodgrain
surface.
I was only the third person to arrive for the m andatory monthly meeting that
morning, after Lunar Lou and Ginger. I caught them right in the middle o f an argum ent
about the latest Beatles conspiracy theory. Ginger was attem pting to recline in one o f the
folding chairs. She had her barefeet up on the table, a cup o f coffee in her hand, a
newspaper in her lap. Lou stood at the counter next to the sink. He was fiddling around
w ith the break room ’s piece-of-crap AM/FM clock-radio-cassette.
“W ait, w ait, waitl” he said to Ginger. “Listen again—-just listen again!”
305
He held down the rewind button momentarily, let it up again, and played the
opening twelve seconds o f “Come Together.”
“There,” he said. “You hear it? Did you hear it?”
Ginger shook her head and, looking at me, rolled her eyes. “L et’s ask, M arty,” she
said. “Lou thinks he can hear John Lennon saying— ”
“No, no, no!” cried Lou. “SHHHHH. Just let him listen first. Marty, man.
Check this out.” He rewound the tape again, played the song from the top.
“Okay,” he said. “What do you hear? W hat’s he saying there.”
“I don’t know,” I said. ‘1 always thought he w as saying shuck."
“Or shoop,” said Ginger.
“What the hell is shoopT'1said Lou. “Give m e a break, shoop.
“It’s a nonsense word,” she said. “A doo-wop word. Kind o f like sha-doobie
“Could be shook," said Peggy Day, as she entered from the hallway.
“Screw that,” said Lou. “Y ou guys aren’t listening hard enough. Really,” he said.
“Listen again. It’s shoot me. You hear th at? ’
“I still don’t hear it,” said Ginger.
“Play it again,” said Peggy. “I think / heard it.” Lou was only too happy to
oblige.
“The me is mostly covered up by the handclap,” he said. “And the bass guitar
note. B ut it’s there. H e’s saying shoot m e.”
“Hand clap?’ said Ginger.
“So what if it is what he’s saying,” I said. “W hat are you saying? That he was
asking for it? ’
306
‘Terhaps not literally,” said Lou. “I m ean, yes, he’s saying— literally—shoot me.
But he probably only meant to say it figuratively.”
“Genius,” Ginger said. “Chapman sure to o k it literally.”
“But why?” I said.
“Why take it literally?”
“Why say it figuratively? I m ean w hat’s the point?”
“The point,” said Lou, “is th at the man w as marked for death. And he knew it.”
“The point,” said Ginger, “is that you are a certified wing-nut.”
I poured m yself a cup o f coffee and sat dow n next to Ginger at the table.
“This is w hat set him off,” she said, and tossed me the front section o f this
m orning’s Austin American Statesm an. One o f the headlines read:
SHOOTING A STAR — BULL’S EYE THROWN OV ER M EDIA HEROES,
VIOLENCE EXPERT SAYS
The article was suggesting that the “status” o f m edia-prom oted figures such as John
Lennon had gone up in recent years, whereas the status o f the presidency had gone dow n.
“Lonely,” “alienated,” “violent” individuals like M ark David Chapman were now ju st as
likely, if not more so, to target prom inent entertainers as they w ere to target prom inent
politicians.
“Check out the standard profile,” said Ginger.
I scanned dow n the page, and read aloud:
“Lonely, ineffectual, young, male, living in isolation and economic fa ilu re...”
“Sound fam iliar?’ said Ginger.
“Hey, I’m not that lonely,” said Lou.
307
“Me neither,” I said.
“Or that young,” added Peggy.
“Delusions o f grandeur, ” I read. “A need fo r self-aggrandizement. The publicity
Chapman got satisfied his desire to fe e l important. There is growing fascination about
the lives o f pub lic fig u res such as Lennon—a fascination tha t once was lim ited to
presidents. The shooting o f John Lennon could indicate that the profile o f an American
presidential assassin now fits the potential assassin o f any m edia star, religious leader,
or, so to speak, a superperson.”
“LOOK! U P IN THE SKY” said Lou, as he hopped up on top o f a chair. “IS IT A
BIRD?”
“IS IT A PLANE?” chimed in Peggy, picking up her cue.
“NO!!” cried Lou, as he lept from the chair into the air. ‘I T ’S SUPER LOU!!”
He landed awkwardly on one foot, stumbled, and rolled across the linoleum
tow ard the doorway. He sat up to find himself at Stoldtman’s feet.
“Whatever you’re jacked-up on this morning,” said Stoldtm an. “I want some o f
it.”
He stepped over Lou and entered the room . “Let’s push these tables together,” he
said. Who are we waiting for?”
“Tabouli’s coming,” said Ginger.
“Ken’s on the air,” I said.
“Well, he’d better be,” said Stoldtman.
Dangerous D an straggled in a few moment later, leading a group m ade up of
himself, Tabouli, and Fonda Labelle.
308
“All right,” Stoldtman said. “L et’s get started.” He led us through the usual
warnings —
about signing and dating the play sheets, adhering to scheduled spot breaks and station
identifications, filing requests for shift substitutions. W e’d heard it all a million times.
‘T or the rest o f the w eek,” he said. “I want Lennon or the Beatles, on the hour,
every hour. A song or two — no more— then back to our regular programming. Come
the weekend, w e’ll be doing John Lennon A to Z, beginning 6 PM Friday and ending
sometime in the evening on Sunday—to coincide w ith the memorial in Central Park.
Any questions?”
“With the Beatles cuts,” said Tabouli, “Are we talking John songs exclusively?”
“This weekend, yes,” said Stoldtman. “Anything and everything he w rote o r
performed. Let’s get Libby to w ork o n that immediately. Between now and then, ju st use
your judgement. The occasional Paul song is fine.”
“What about Ringo?” D an asked.
“Not mournful enough,” said Ginger.
“George Harrison songs?” said Lou.
“Use your best judgem ent,” said Stoldtman.
“While My Guitar Gently W eeps,” said Dan.
“Use your best judgem ent,” said Stoldtman.
‘“N ot Guilty,’ I said. Only G inger smiled at my wisecrack.
Just then there came a high-spirited knocking upon the fram e o f the open
doorway. It was Johnny M aria, w ith his big fake Rolex, and his tassled loafers, and his
olive green double-breasted suit.
309
“There he is!” Stoldtman said. “Come in, Johnny. You all know Johnny, I
presume.”
We all nodded our heads—as both an answ er and a cautious greeting. O f course
we knew Johnny. H e came by the station almost every week. But did w e want to know
him? That was a better question. The guy was a to tal goombah. He called him self an
independent prom otor, but, essentially, he was a thug. He didn’t work for the station, and
he didn’t work for any one record company in particular. Y et he was always showing up
at the station to talk to the program m ing director about the latest “hits” he had to offer.
It was mostly Top 40 garbage he was peddling. A ir Supply and Olivia Newton-John.
Molly Hatchet and Eddie Rabbit and .38 Special. O n a good day he m ight have Blondie,
or The Pretenders.
see also December 8 ,1 9 8 0
Skunks, The —see also Raul’s, The Sex Pistols, No Fun
Slow Moving Drains, The -

Essentially the Floorbirds (without Reed Clark on keyboards o r mandolin) before they
moved from L.A. to Austin. They changed their nam e to The Floorbirds after listening
to Dylan’s “All You H ave to Do is Dream” from the “Genuine” Basem ent Tapes.
see All You Have to Do is Dream
310
S m ile -
“I don’t know anyone in the industry who hasn’t heard that “Heroes & Villains” is the next Beach Boys
release. Only a scoundrel would dispute the claim that “Heroes & Villains is the most famous single not
yet recorded. - Derek Taylor, 1967
Smile is Brian W ilson’s never-released masterpiece, recorded in 1966-1967 and shelved
shortly thereafter. Among the songs originally w ritten for the album : “Good
Vibrations,” “S u rfs U p,” “Heroes & Villains,” and “Vega-tables” (th at’s Paul
McCartney chewing the celery!!). Although W ilson himself claim s that m ost o f the
reels from these sessions were destroyed, bootleggers have m anaged to get their hands on
m ost o f the tracks, and tracking sessions, from this m ad yet brilliant project.
Soap Creek Saloon -

707 Bee Caves R o ad , A ustin, Texas
Fonda L aB elle: The Soap Creek was the ultimate redneck hippie place. It was
down a d irt road o f compacted limestone so everyone w ould drive in and be
covered w ith limestone. They were big on the tequila scene...you’d go outside
and all the stars would be really bright on a clear night, and people would fighting
and fucking in the bushes. I MEAN, IT WAS PRETTY RUDE! Alvin Crow &
the Pleasant Valley Boys were regulars there. Marcia Ball, G reezy Wheels, The
311
Lost Gonzo Band, even Jerry Jeff & Willie occasionally, o r Professor Longhair!
And o f course D oug Sahm ... they could have just called it “Doug’s Place!” The
big difference w as the dance floor. To socialize at the Split Rail, the Soap Creek,
the Broken S p o ke... you had to be able to dance. You didn’t really need to be
able to dance to be part o f the Dillo culture...although m any did—down front—
but it wasn’t, like, OK here’s the parkay square...w e’re gonna two-step, w altz, etc.
And that was how you met people and hung w ith them. Y ou’d sit at big long
tables with beers and you’d ask each other to dance. A KEY distinction. The
Dillo was still a little more susceptible to the suburban coed or the Dallas college
guy who w anted to be part o f rock and roll Austin culture. These days, clubs are
more like m assive warehouses and they take more or a rock and roll approach:
rocking back and forth and nodding with the music and holding your beer and
making eye contact and all that kind o f shit. Instead o f a dance floor where
people leave the outside circle o f watchers and drinkers and dance. Now it’s more
rock and roll gone to country, as opposed to the old way where you didn’t ju st
dance along—you touched your partner, like jitterbuggers o r rock and roll fifties
dancing where you hold your partner’s hand, more on the model o f the honky
tonk country side...versus “listening to the LYRICS” and holding your beer.
Split Rail, T he- A traditional Austin honky-tonk. M arcia Ball’s Freda and the
Firedogs played here often, as did Kenneth Threadgill & the Hootenanny Hoots, and,
after 1976, Joe Ely, B utch Hancock, Jimmy Dale Gilmore—“the Lubbock Mafia.”
312
Fonda LaBeUe: The Split Rail w as a down and dirty brush arbor they’d added
tin-siding to ...it was half-timbered on one side-looked like the old stagecoach
stop—and the entire place had a ta r floor, like th e place was sitting right on a
parking lot...it was just completely raw ....”
Stampers —see also Mothers, Acetates
Starman -
April 1972
It happens to M arty ju st like in the song. He is upstairs listening to the radio. His room is
dark but for the glow o f the fish tank and the lava lamp. It’s a school night, but how early
or how late, he’s really not sure. The D J has been playing the new Rolling Stones single,
a soulful rocking blues called “Tumbling Dice.” As the gospely chorus repeats and fades,
another song fades in. The bright strumming o f an acoustic guitar, follow ed by a deeper,
slower organ note, hovering and echoing and ominous. The organ is joined by a similarly
hovering bass note. The song sounds a bit like “Space O ddity” at first, but it’s not. I t’s
something he’s never heard before. A high, otherworldy voice speaks softly, fittingly.
What’s it saying? Sounds like “Hey there, love... look there, love.” O r maybe it’s “Hey,
hello... Look above.” M arty can’t be sure. B ut as the first verse begins, he’s sure at least
that he’s listening to David Bowie. M arty picks up the phone and calls Weslea. She’s
been listening too. She was just about to call him, she says.
313
The song is about a teenager w ho hears the voice o f a cosmic visitor on the radio.
He’s listening to a rock and roll station, and the broadcast is interrupted by the Starm an’s
signal. The kid gets so excited, he has to call his friend. The friend’s heard the Starm an
too. They look for him on TV, but he’s not there. T hen they look out the window, and
he’s out there, up there, in the sky, w aiting, watching, telling them it’s all right, telling
them to boogie.
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314
Stoldtman, Carl - I f there’s one thing Stoldtman w as not, it was a nanny. He
would not cook or clean or call a cab, would not calm dow n drummers’ wives. He would
not negotiate w ith bail bondsmen, nor with sheriffs, nor state troopers. He ould not
grease the palms o f valets, m aitre d ’s, security guards or receptionists; would not mediate
between clients and their physicians, their beauticians, or their dealers. Not their yogis,
their roadies, their groupies, their chippies, their florists or pizza delivery guys. He
couldn’t be bothered by whores, palm readers, o r photographers; mothers, brothers,
sisters, fathers, friends, lovers o r enemies. Bring him lawyers, yes. Record execs, A & R
men, Indies, and programming directors. Bring him producers and executive producers,
presidents and CEOs. Bring him accountants (when they’re needed), consultants, the
boys over in marketing. Bring him your troubles, and you’d better be ready to swim
dow n one o f his channels.
Stoldtman had an Adam's Apple as big as his nose, and pupils that were always
dilated. It was rumored he consumed tabs o f LSD the way m ost people consumed
carbohydrates. Some said he hasn't dosed in years but had never come down from those
thirteen gel-caps he swallowed years ago at Altamont. All agreed he was brilliant and
insane and more successful than any other record consultant in the business. By the time
The Floorbirds had changed their name to H ank Pete & The Dead Young Cowboys,
Stoldtman, he was also their manager, and had m ore conflicts o f interest in m otion than
the Nixon Administration. He became the band's manager, prom otor, and lawyer, and
even sold their first big single to Big Six while it was still only a demo tape. Stoldtman
could have sold a comb and hair tonic Bob Dylan. He could have sold gay stag films to
315
Anita Bryant. But there was only so much more he’d be able to do for the Dead Young
Cowboys.
Angela Strehli -
Y et another fantastic singer and songw riter from Lubbock, Texas (Buddy Holly, Joe Ely,
W aylon Jennings, and Jimmie Dale Gilmore being some others!), Strehli fronted a
number o f bands during the late 60's, but didn’t really hit her stride until 1975 w hen
Clifford Antone opened up his nightclub on 6th Street and Angela had the opportunity to
perform with one blues legend after another, including both Jimmie and Stevie Ray
Vaughan.
Striker, Fran -
A uthor o f the Lone Ranger books, eighteen in all. Also helped to create the G reen
Hornet along with George W. Trendle. The Green Hornet was essentially a Lone Ranger
for another era. H is real name was B ritt Reid, and he was none other than the son o f Dan
Reid, who was The Lone Ranger’s nephew! Considered a w anted m an by police, The
Green Hornet was nevertheless a crim efighter who managed to lead a dual existence as
the owner and publisher o f The Daily Sentinel.
Suicide of Autobiography —see Henry Adams, Henry James, Homicide o f

Biography
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Suicide of Biography - According to the logic o f W .H. Auden, negative creation

is akin to murder, and murder, according to the logic o f Norm an O. Brown, is suicide
with mistaken identity. Therefore, any biographer who enacts “homicide” upon his
subject is, in actuality, comitting h im self to “suicide.” See Homicide of Biography,
Suicide of Autobiography, Henry Adams, Henry James, W .H. Auden, Norman O.
Brown.
Super Roper —see KOKE-FM, Goat Ropers.

One o f KOKE-FM’s mid-seventies logos, often seen ont-shirts, bumper stickers, etc.
accompanied by the slogan “W e’re M ore Than Just a Radio Station, We’re a Texas
Lifestyle.”
T
Tailoring, The Art of -
“My impression o f an entertainer is that he should w ear a flashy outfit to be fair to the
public. He shouldn’t be wearing a sport coat like the people in the audience. The
costume is the first impression and it should be flashy.”
— Nudie Cohen, w orld famous rodeo tailor, 1969
“Am I a botched mass o f tailors’ and cobblers’ shreds, then; or a tightly articulated,
homogeneous little Figure, automatic, nay alive?”
— Thomas Carlyle, Sartor Resartus (I, Ch. 8)
Tape Tree-
An organizational structure used by music fans for trading tape recordings, usually
bootlegs, o f live concerts. See example o f a Tape T ree Adm inistrator’s memo below:
Date: Friday, July 30, 1977
From: FreeBird
Subject: Floorbirds Tape Tree
Hey Y'all___
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Thanks once again to our *friend* on the soundboard, I will soon
have another Floorbirds show to tree (with some Hank Pete solo
from a different source waiting in the wings, once
this tree gets finished). It is an A+ line-recording from the
Two Tap in Austin, TX on September 19, 1976. This was the Gram
Parsons tribute show, so it includes a set of GP covers, plus a
full set of Floorbirds originals. A killer show! There is also
some filler at the end of Tape 2 from an in-store appearance Hank
and Bucky did at Refried Records in February of this year.
Anybody on the Floorbirds mailing list, whether you have any
bootleg tapes to trade or not, is welcome to participate. Our
goal is to share the music with true fans, so if you're even
thinking of profiting from the sale of recorded live shows,
please be so kind as to fuck off! Otherwise, please follow the
directions carefully.
Here's how it works: I'll trade a copy to each of the branches,
and then the branches will trade copies with each of their
assigned leaves. The number of responses will dictate the number
of branches. The show is two cassette tapes in length, so expect
to trade two for two for every copy. (No 2-for-l trades.)
319
Please respond to me personally with ALL of the following
information in numbered order and make sure that "Floorbirds Tape
Tree" is written on the OUTSIDE of the envelope:
1. Your desire to be either a branch or a leaf (based on the
number of replies, branches will be assigned 4-6 leaves and must
be prepared to accept some leaves who are only able to trade
blank cassettes) . Anyone offering to be a branch should be
willing to accept leaf-status if we end up with too many
branches.
2. Please use 90-minute Maxell or TDK brand audio tapes only.
ALSO: in order to be a branch you MUST have desirable bootleg
recordings to trade (of the Floorbirds, Slow Moving Drains, etc.)
If you don't have any boots to trade then you must sign- up only
as a leaf. And, regardless of whether you are a branch or a
leaf, PLEASE DO NOT OFFER TO TRADE ANY OFFICIALLY RELEASED
PRODUCTS. That's what record stores are for!
3. Please list the approximate number of tapes have on your list
for trade. I'll use this info only to ensure that branches don't
get stuck with all leaves with nothing to trade. (If you are new
to tape trading and have nothing to offer, that's cool, but again
you should sign up only as a leaf.)
320
4. Include your complete mailing address, including country if
it is not the U.S. (I'll try to make sure that no single branch
gets too many out-of-the-country leaves) .
5. Your FULL name
That should do it. Please use good quality equipment, and be
sure in advance that you have the time to respond promptly if you
are volunteering to be a branch.
I '11 try to accommodate all people who followthedirections and
reply to me before next Tuesday at noon. This gives y'allthe
weekend to get organized. I expect to seed my branches no later
than the end of next week. That'll be the next time y'all hear
from me about this tree, unless you have any questions.
See Ya in the Future, If Not in the Pasture,
-FreeBird
Temporary Blindness - see B ig R ockP ow W ow

W hat had happened, apparently, was this: Somebody had gotten into their car across the
row and turned on their headlights. M arty had then opened his eyes and stared straight
into the beam o f light. His pupils w ere so dilated, his synapses firing so randomly, his
sense o f tim e and space so distorted, th at it simply took him that much longer to adjust.
321
Tequila Culture-
Fonda LaBeUe: tequila culture... in Texas tequila was part o f their connection to
m exico...it’s a very psychedelic alcohoL.and tequila is a very different kind o f
high for the rednecks and the hippies and a mutual attraction to that alcohol
lubricated club life in many ways...most people doing lots o f tequila shots...and
tequila would lead many people to peyote and magic m ushrooms...even straight
people who never would have considered take a drug in the context o f a vietnam-
era anti-war hippie crowd: once they’d got into tequila and yahoo, Asleep at the
W heel...the next step...of somebody handing them a ja r o f psychedelic mushroom
juice wasn’t that big a deal...the psychedelic qualities o f tequila became the
crossover base for a lot o f people who wouldn’t have done that in another context
where they’d simply say, Oh, those are hippies they take drugs...
Good blue agave...but also a certain pride in drinking the shitty mescal...
see Urban Cowboy ...the scene where the cowboy is challenged to drink the w orm
in the bottle... all kinds o f homemade label shit coming across the border...in
Mexico, pharmacias... Tied to mexico, this latinate culture w here life is violent
and passionate, and a gringo can go but needs to watch him self ...but maybe could
find something there in the way o f carnal pleasures ...wine, wom en and song, the
beaches, the tequila, the food, the pot... a lot o f songs at the time— about South o f
the Border ....Jerry Jeff “Maybe Mexico,” Bob Weir, “M exicali Blues.” Bob
Wills had a different song o f the same title...
322
Texas Heat Wave, 1980 -

Late summer 1980. The infamous heatwave where tem peratures lingered around 110
degress for six consecutive weeks, a record.. People were selling T-shirts: “I Survived
the Texas Heat W ave,” in reference to the hundreds o f people who collapsed from heat
exhaustion that year.
Stacy W algreen: It w as like a six-week Willie Nelson 4th o f July Picnic.
Drinking beer all day and pissing air!
ThreadgilTs -
6416 North Lamar Boulevard, Austin, TX
An abandoned gas station that K enneth Threadgill tinned into a bar on the day that
Prohibition ended in 1933.
Leo Joseph: Kenneth Threadgill played one night a week at this converted
service station...maybe Tuesday night...and the place was cram med...I don’t know
how many people it held...m aybe 50 or 60...but it was crammed every Tuesday
night...and he had a guitar player named Bill Neally, a short guy...really nice...
who was this classic kind o f old school country musician? V ery dignified and
erect...always wears th at hat, you know...som e o f the Bluegrass musicians are like
that...Bill M unroe...a country gentleman o f the old school...Grand Ole O pry...
So Bill Neally would play a set...and then Threadgill would com e on...this big old
whitehaired Santa Claus-y looking guy...and he would sing the Jimmie R odgers
songs and people would ju st drink beer and... He whole thing was that he w as a
323
Jimmie Rodgers sound alike and he did Jimmie Rodgers songs! B ut I had never
heard Jimmie Rodgers, you know ? Until years later...the only Jimmie Rodgers I
knew was Threadgill singing Jimmie Rodgers... H e’d been doing this for a long
time; it was an A ustin tradition — Janis Joplin hung out there in the 60s~but we
picked up on it in the early 70s... so that was up G uadalupe..quite far up...or
maybe it was even on Lam ar...up tow ard where I lived, but even farther up...it
might have been where Guadalupe and Lamar cam e together... I remember
drinking so m uch beer there...longneck Lone Star...this was not only the beer o f
choice but the bottle o f choice... And that was a “hippie” / folk crow d...and that
was STRAIGHT country...but hippies were into traditional and roots music...but
Nashville, they w eren’t into...
Tobacco Road -
626 South Miami Avenue, Miami, FL
This beat up little dive holds the very first liquor license issued in Dade County—
although such formalities did not prevent the owners from operating The R oad as a
speakeasy and a gambling hall during Prohibition. Legend even has it that A1 Capone
would visit the establishment from tim e to time.
Marty Kelso: For W eslea's sixteenth birthday [in 1972], w e found ourselves Downtown,
a few blocks south o f the Miami River, drinking a bottle o f W ray & N ephew White
O verproof Rum We w ere in the parking lot o f Tobacco Road. The bottle had come
324
from inside, where Jimmie was drinking with a trio o f sleazy girls he knew from the
community college. Emilio the bartender—-just back from his honeymoon in Jam aica—
had brought the rum home for Jimmie as a souvenir. On a weeknight, Emilio would have
served us kids right there at the bar, but on Saturdays the A .B.C. planted officers
undercover and the staff at The Road had to cover their asses. So Jimmie had slipped the
rum out the back door, and by now the three o f us—Henry, W eslea, and m yself—were
getting pretty toasted. Hard-boiled, actually. It was about 90 degrees in the dark, and
humid.
"Hoooo..." Henry exclaimed, after taking another hit direct from the bottle. "That
is some strong shit."
Weslea said, "I can't keep drinking it straight like this. Henry," she said, making
lips at him, "Go inside and get some Coke or something. P lea seT
"In a minute," H enry said, goofing on nothing observable, his eyes barely visible
beneath their drooping lids. "In a minute."
"Let me see that." W eslea took the bottle from him and rotated it in her palm
until the label was facing her. "Guaranteed Full Strength," she read. "W hat's full
strength?"
"Uh, I don't know," Henry said. "Two-hundred. Two-hundred proof."
"Bullshit," I told him. "Nothing's two-hundred proof."
"What do you think it is, Marty?" W eslea leaned tow ard me. She held the bottle
between the two o f us and ran a finger along the print, like it was a hymn book or
something and the two o f us were in church together. "It doesn't say anywhere."
"It's probably a hundred and fifty," I said. "That's my guess."
325
"Bacardi 151," said Henry. "Bacardi 151 is stronger than that."
"By one," I said. "So what?"
"So this is overproof," Henry said, looking like the w ord itself might knock him
over. He started in again w ith his private laughter.
"God," Weslea said. "Y ou are such a w aste product." She handed me the bottle
and walked over to Henry. "Go get me some mixer," she said, and smooched him on the
mouth. Henry tottered a little, put his hand on her ass.
‘I ’m gonna drain the m ain vein,” he said. “And I'll go get you some mixer." He
slouched o ff tow ard The Road.
W eslea turned to look at me.
"What?" she said. "W hat?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me!"
"Nothing," I said. "I m ean—I've told you before. I hate it when you do that shit
in front o f me."
"What shit?"
My answer was a long sip o f overproof rum.
"You jealous?" asked W eslea.
"Yes," I said. "Hell, yes."
"Ohwww.." she said. She tried to make it sound sym pathetic, but it came out as
patronizing.
I didn't want any o f th at crap either.
326
"Disappear," I said, raising one arm and opening my fingers as if casting a spell. I
smiled when I did it though, knowing how easy it was to start a serious argument w ith
Weslea.
"I'm sorry," she said. "What do you w ant me to do? Pretend he's not my
boyfriend?
"Yes!" I said.
"Oh—youl" W eslea put her arm around me and lay her head against my neck.
W ith her other hand she took hold o f the bottle.
"You and I can't date," she said. "We're too close. You want us to end up like me
and Henry?" She took a slug o ff the bottle and alm ost immediately her cheeks puffed out
like she might get sick. "Jesus," said Weslea. "Where is that goddamned mixer?"
"You better w atch it," I said. "We need to be alive tom orrow for the Bowie
concert."
"Yeah," she said. "That's going to be awesome. I hope we have good seats. I f I
can't see, will you stand and let me sit on your shoulders?" She tugged on the bottom o f
my damp t-shirt. "Will you?"
"Why don't you sit on your boyfriend's shoulders?"
"Yeah right. Like he'll be able to stand at all." All this talk about tom orrow was
making W eslea hyperactive. She was playing with her necklace, lifting it to her m outh
and biting on it, walking around in little circles, kicking at bottlecaps and broken glass.
"Do you think heU play the whole album?" she asked.
"All o f Ziggy Stardust? I kind o f doubt it,” I said. "Maybe."
"I hope he plays a lot o f stuff o ff Ziggy," she said.
327
"That would be cool if he did," I said.
The door banged open with Henry's foot. In each hand he carried a pint glass
filled w ith fizzing Coca Cola and he sang, o ff key, at the top o f his lungs:
"Freak out in a moonage daydream— Oh yeah?'
"Yes!" said Weslea. "Good tune. W atch it, Henry, you're spilling." She grabbed
one o f the Cokes and guzzled about a third o f it in no time.
"Hey, save some for mixer," I said.
"We can get more," she said and took another sip. "H ow ’s Jimmie?"
"H e's pissing me off," said Henry.
"Yeah, well, don't piss him off," W eslea said. "Or w e w ont have a ride tom orrow
night."
" You’ll have a ride," he said.
"C an t you two just get along for once? God!"
"He can be such an asshole," said Henry. “Goddamn control freak.”
"Is there anybody in the back hallway?" she asked.
H enry shook his head. “It’s fucking boiling out here.”
"Take this," she said, handing him the half empty pint o f Coca Cola. "I'm going
inside to pee."
"Can you contain it for a minute?" I said, holding up the second joint. "I just
sparked this up."
"Y ou tw o go ahead," she said. "I don't need any m ore."
"M ore for us," Henry said, as the door closed behind Weslea. "Here, let me see
that. I'm gonna piss too." Henry set the cokes down on the pavement. H e took a couple
328
long drags o ff the joint, handed it back to me, then wandered around behind the
dumpster.
Standing there by himself, I hit the joint harder—not bogarting really, just making
up for the silence, the way you take extra sips o ff a beer when you're at a party and
feeling nervous o r alone. I was getting stupid. I could alm ost see the red o f my eyes
from the inside out.
So I didn't hear—or didn't think anything o f it when I heard— footsteps coming
from the open end o f the alley. Who know s what I was thinking. The fact is, I w as still
standing there, smoke rising from his fingers, when the cop switched on his flashlight and
turned the beam into my face. The cop was barely three yards away. I considered
swallowing the lit evidence, as I'd seen John Fleming do one time out at the trestle, but in
my stupor chose to flick it, burning, into the dumpster beside me.
"Oh that w asn't smart," the cop said. "That wasn't too sm art at all." He stepped
tow ard me, his arm a right angle, shouldering the light. He didn't stop until I was backed
up against the wall. "I should make you crawl in there on your hands and knees and get
that," he said. "You think I'm stupid? Huh? You think I don't know what you're doing
back here? Huh? Hey, I'm talking to you."
Iy said, "No. N o, officer."
"You think you're pretty smart, though? Y ou must think you're pretty sm art.”
"Not really," I said.
"Not really," the cop mimicked. "What's your name wdseguy?"
"Marty."
"Marty," he said. "Marty what?"
329
"Kelso," I said. "Marty Kelso."
"You ever been arrested, M arty?"
"No."
"That's good, Marty. Y ou know what? Y ou’re not going to be arrested tonight
either."
"Thank you," I said, incredibly relieved.
"No, I'm not going to bust you tonight, M ister. But I am going to teach you a
lesson. This is w hat's going to happen. I'm going inside there...you're coining with
m e...I'm going to tell everybody in the bar I caught you jerking o ff out here, beside this
dumpster. And you're not going to say shit. You know why? Because nobody’s going to
believe you anyway. Right?"
Only then did I seriously consider fleeing, pushing the cop even, to clear an
escape route. I considered running and risking a bullet in the back. I was willing to risk
a bullet in the head.
"I'm not going in there," I said. "I'd rather be arrested."
"Nobody asked you," said the cop. "Or said you had a choice. Y ou're going in
there." Then he took me by the collar.
Henry crouched within spitting distance. I was sure o f it. Iknew Henry was
watching us, undetected, like a cat behind a curtain, secure and indifferent. Still I turned
my head in Henry’s direction, aw ay from Tobacco Road, and the howling and the
laughter that waited for me there on the other side o f the door.
330
Tonsillectomy and Adenoidectomy (T & A) - a u g u s t 18,1968.
You had to abbreviate a m outhfull like tonsillectom y and adenoidectomy, even if it was
the second m ost common operation perform ed on children. M arty Kelso didn’t even
know what the first was. H e twelve years old, about to enter the seventh grade, and he
had this thing for a girl named Weslea Stevens. H e’d missed so much school that year,
everybody thought he had m ono, including W eslea. But he d id n ’t have mono, he had
tonsillitis. H e had it five tim es in two years, o n top o f which he had strep throat twice
and god knows how many ear infections. Tonsil glands are supposed to serve as agents
against infection, that’s w hat M arty’s doctor told him. Only M arty’s, the doctor said,
worked more like agents fo r infection. This guy was a specialist: an ear, nose, and throat
man. He didn’t always recommend T & A , he said, but in M arty’s case there w asn’t any
question.
M arty’s Uncle Jimmie got a big kick out o f that one.
“Oh definitely,” he said. “Absolutely. I would definitely recommend the T & A.”
He told his nephew he’d been getting a little T & A himself lately. And not from any ear,
nose, and throat man, either.
M arty would be out o f commission for a week, maybe tw o.
They w ere going to put him under general anesthesia, so he wasn’t allowed to put
anything in his m outh the night before. N o t even chewing gum. N o m outh w ash, no
throat lozenges, no water, even. He couldn’t brush his goddamned teeth. I f he did any
o f these things, and they found out about it, they would have to cancel the operation.
They didn’t w ant him to choke on his ow n vom it, which is apparently what could happen
331
at the beginning o f the anesthesia if M arty put even the slightest thing in his m outh the
night before. He wondered if that included W eslea’s tongue. N o t that she’d ever done
anything o f the sort. N ot with him she hadn’t. And o f course she w asn’t likely to do it
on a night when he couldn’t even brush or gargle o r eat a mint o r anything. Besides, he
hadn’t even asked her out yet.
He was working on it, though, and she knew it too. He w as a little soft in those
days, and you practically had to beat him over the head before he’d take a hint. She’d
sent her friend Lisa Scheff to put him up to it. Lisa caught M arty at his locker one day
and told him Weslea w as “incredibly interested.” Debbie Valens had been “interested”
too, earlier in the year, had enlisted Lisa to deliver a similar m essage, and, boy, had
M arty really blown th at one. He’d asked her out all right. He’d asked her out, and then
he hadn’t thought to phone her for something like a week and a half. By that time Debbie
had already asked L aura to ask M atthew Golden to ask her out. M arty didn’t suppose he
was all that hot for Debbie Valens to begin with. But he wasn’t going to make the same
mistake with Weslea. He wouldn’t wait to call this time. N ot once he got around to
asking her out.
Uncle Jimmie was over for dinner the night before the surgery. Marty had to
watch him eat. M arty’s mother had intentionally cooked something she knew Marty
hated—liver—but Uncle Jimmie hated liver too, so he’d brought over a sausage pizza
and a six pack. He and Fran had business to discuss. Something about a new shipment
and the swap-meet o n Saturday. Jimmie worked in wholesale, for a company called
Palmetto Distributing Corp. He w as a driver for American Family Trucking, but
apparently he was a wholesaler too. He did a lot o f work w ith people he called
332
rackjobbers. Rackjobbers owned rack space in the big departm ent stores like K-Mart
and Sears and J.C. Penny. Palmetto seemed to specialize in records, cassettes, and
eight-track tapes, although M arty had heard his uncle m ention other products too.
Anything and everything from keychains to Cheez Whiz. Pop T arts, Pez dispensers, car
waxes, combs. On this particular evening, Jimmie was discussing a problem he’d been
having w ith an overstock o f refrigerator m agnets.
Transcript of a Rolling Stones Bootleg2 Recorded Live

at The West Palm Beach International Pop Festival3
November 3 0 ,19694
Sam Cutler5: Ahm, we’ve eventually arrived in Florida, after eleven hours and fifteen
minutes in the same aeroplane. We’ve had amazing hassles getting here, but w e’ve
managed to get through—and we are here, and we’re gonna come and play fo r you, and
we wanted everybody to know that, if you had to wait, and you’re cold, that we are sorry,
we got here as quickly as w e could, we w ere hung up by things like the president, landing
at the airport where we w ere trying to take o ff and that m ade it all very difficult. Could
you turn th at light o ff actually, ‘cause I’ve got weak eyes, thank you.
Unidentified male fan6: haw haw!
2 - the preferred term among collectors is ROIO (Recording of Illicit Origin)
3 - Technically, The West Palm Beach Music and Arts Festival. This show is often labeled and/or listed
incorrectly as the Miami Pop Festival; this three-day event was held over Thanksgiving Weekend on
November 28, 29, and 30, 1969 at the International Raceway in West Palm Beach, Florida.
4 - Six days before the infamous Rolling Stones performance at the Altamont Speedway in Livermore, CA..
More on this later.
s - The Rolling Stones’ 1969 Tour Manager. If you’ve seen the Mayles Brothers’ film Gimme Shelter.
Sam is the guy with the long dark hair and moustache, speaking with a British accent and wearing a long
brown leather jacket.
6 - Actually, my “pal” Henry Peterson. We’d stayed up all night waiting for this—in the rain and cold and
mud. Along with the sixty or seventy-thousand other folks who had been camped here (if you could call it
that) since the gates to the raceway were officially opened at ten o’clock on Friday morning. It was now
Sunday—No, Monday. The Stones had been scheduled to take the stage on Sunday night at sunset. It was
now almost sunrise.
333
Unidentified female fan7: Who is that?8
Sam Cutler: Um. Anyway, w hen we come, w e’d be, ah, very grateful if everyone could
wake up, which would be really nice, and if you w ant to get warm , then, the best excuse
is to sort o f dance around, and—-flip out if you w ant to, over the music. W e’ll be here
quickly—w e’re sorry to hang you up over it, right? As soon as w e can get here w e’ll be
here. Thanks.
Unidentified male fen: Wow. ..
Sam Cutler: The Rolling Stones!9
Jagger: Well, all right. Yeh, all right...
Jumpin’ Jack Flash
Jagger: Thank you, miam-eh. Whooo! O ahh baby. It’s so much the night is
gone almost. Whoo-ah. I w ish we— heh—hah— I wish I was dow n there w ith you,
cause I bet it’s ju st warmer dow n there with ya. Heh! 10
(whispering) H aaaaaah.. .I ’ll breathe on you real h ard .. .gonna breathe on you real
hard... (K eith breaks into the open riff o f Chuck B erry’s “Carol”)
Yeah.. A w .. .w ell...well, it— it had, ah, its moments. That’s all wonderful. W e’re
gonna, we’re gonna do, ah— w e’re gonna tune up— because it’s real cold, and you get,
and weak tuning goes to bleeding—but you’re feeling pretty good— still—and you’re not,
ah, over the top. (under his breath) Thank god.
Sympathy for the Devil
Jagger: Allll right. W e’re gonna d o ...(lo u d guitar feedback) ....o h .... W e’re
gonna do one, ah, which is about a lady. Are you all holding onto a lady? HOLD
ONTO A LADY! ...I f you’re not holding one already.11
7 - Weslea Stevens. Her parents had been frantic since late Friday evening. They’d called the police, who
had figured out where the Stevens’ daughter was, but could do nothing about it, given the size o f the venue.
* - Obviously, at the time, Weslea would not have had footnote 4 at her disposal.
9 - They finally took the stage at 4:15 AM.
10 - No, actually. It was fucking freezing “down there.”
334
-> Stray Cat Blues
Jagger: Ohwww.... We’re gonna ah, slow it dow n for all those people who are
trying to get some rest, and some nookie.
(laughter)
We— ah—we’re gonna do blues for you. Blues. Blues people. You’re Blue...
HAVE YOU HAD A GOOD TIME AT MIAMI? Have you really enjoyed it? Has it
been m uddyl Has it been cold. ..
W e’re gonna do “Love in Vain.”
(A very guitar-warped version—way out o f tune)
Jagger: OwwNO! Far out\
Charlie leads in with a strong, funky drum beat.

Keith, on the other hand, can’t seem to find the notes.
4 Under My Thumb
Ah, baby. Thank you. We’ll tune up. W e’ll change amps—we’ve blown amps—w e’ll
tune up.
(minutes o f tuning. .. M ick trills about on his harp.)
4 Midnight Rambler
11 - I put my arm around Weslea, and she didn’t resist. In fact, she leaned in closer, pressed her face
against my chest. Everyone at school, including Henry, thought that Weslea and I were doing each other,
and I hardly tried to suggest otherwise. And neither did Weslea, to anyone except me, and then only when
were alone together one-on-one. In public, she was quite openly affectionate to me. This didn’t make any
sense at all. Shouldn’t it work the other way around? She wasn’t a prude—she had something o f a
reputation in feet—so that couldn’t be the problem. What then? Scott Lymon had been good enough for
her. Jesse Waltham. Even fucking Kevin McCarthy. What the hell was wrong with me? We were
inseparable. We hung out together after school everyday. We talked on the phone until we fell asleep,
literally, with the receivers in our hands.
335
W hoo! Whoo! Well, all right!
(tuning)
I’m sure you’re—wish the sun would come out. W HERE’S THE SUN!
Arig h t. .. there’s—I think is that the sun. Ah? What would you want m e to do with you?
W hat would you like me to do now? W e’re gonna do “Gimme Some Shelter” when
we’re in tune.
-> very warped “Gimme Shelter” (the tape)
Jagger: Yeh-ah. Thank you.
W e’d, ah—I think you all are pretty amazing, because, a h ... you know , to have come
here, ‘cause I think everyone, really here is amazing— ah, apart from us— but the, ah,
like, to get it together after all the hassles. .. that everyone went through to get this
festival together. I really think you’re a gas for coming and staying all night and really,
sticking it out. B ecause... you know ... it matters, you know ... and you know it matters
‘cause, you’re here. And we’re very sorry we weren’t here at sunset.12 Y ou know .. .we,
we we—I can’t tell y o u .. .1 wish the sun would come up. We’re gonna do,
ah w e’re gonna do “Live with M e.”
-> Live with Me
Jagger: O h... let’s keep warm .13
-> Little Queenie
Jagger: Are you enjoying the tuning?
-> Satisfaction
12 - The Stones had, in fact, had asked the concert promoter, Dave Rupp, to let them go out earlier, but
Rupp, determined to keep the audience /consumers captive as long as possible, held the Stones to the terms
of their contract which stated that they would perform last.
13 - Weslea stood behind me now, arms around me, wanning her hands in my pockets. The torture!
336
Jagger: Thank ya’U. Thank you people. Shhh. Billy’s standing up all th e time
too. We standing up all the tim e. Wha? They can’t sit—you can’t, ah, can’t sit down.
You’re, ah, sweetly—turn it dow n a bit, man—-just turn it down, you know?
-> Honkytonk W omen
Jagger: G ood o f honkyl
Thank you very much. We’d like to say a special welcome to all the minority groups in
the audience. A ll... Fags. Hi. All the junkies. Hi. How are you, junkies? Ah, hello...
all the straight people. Hello. All the straight people. All the policemen. Hi, to all the
policemen. They’ve all gone, man. Hours ago.
Street Fighting M an
Crowd: MORE!!!
Two-Tap, T h e-
1901 E. R iverside
A ustin, TX
— u —
— V —
Van Zandt, Townes —

For the Sake o f the Song - 1968
Our M other the Mountain - 1969
Townes Van Zandt - 1970
Delta M omma Blues - 1971
High, Lo & In Between - 1972
The Late, G reat Townes Van Zandt -1973
Live at the O ld Quarter - 1977
Flyin' Shoes -1 9 7 8
Vaughan, Stevie Ray -

see An tone’s, the Continental, The One Knight, Jimmie Vaughan
Vicki Vinyl —(nee Andrea Brown)

See also Andrea Brown; Ed W ard, “Bootleggers Beware: Big Precedent Set With $2.1
Million Judgement for Springsteen.” Austin American-Statesm an. December 27,1980,
p.12.
338
VINTAGE LIES ( h .p e t e > -
see Black Velvet.
Violators, The - see R a u l’s, The Sex Pistols, No Fun, Patti Smith, Stacy
Walgreen, The Peggy Suicides
Vulcan Gas Company, The -

315 South Congress Avenue, Austin, TX
No liquor license, but lots o f dope and acid... 12 overhead projectors, photo slides,
motion pictures, free form w ater/oil reflections. The site o f the Velvet Underground’s
first live album (1969-Lxve).
see Shiva’s Headband, Eddie Wilson, 13th Floor Elevators, The Conqueroo,
Armadillo World Headquarters, Duke’s Royal Coach Inn
— w —
Walgreen, Stacy -
Ducky Phillips: Every cowboy in Austin had a major hard-on for Stacy. The
real cowboys, the fake cowboys. Everybody. Because she had a foot in both
worlds, you know? She w as originally from out in Pittsburg, TX, where her
daddy raised livestock. Bulls, actually. For the PRCA. Rodeo bulls. So she
grew up w ith—she was, like, a real cowgirl, right? Except she wasn’t any rodeo
queen. Could’ve been, she was pretty enough and shit. B ut Randall W algreen
never managed to have any sons, and Stacy— she and her tw o sisters—they
worked on that ranch from day one. When she got to be a teenager, Stacy
decided she wanted to be a professional rodeo clown, a bullfighter, and she did
manage to w ork the am ateur circuit for awhile, disguised as a man, because
nobody in that culture would approve o f a female rodeo clown. But people found
out, o f course, and some o f them didn’t really care—but they sure as hell w eren’t
going to let her into the PRCA. This all came to a head in the early to mid
seventies, before she was even twenty years old, while she was working the
Suicide Circuit incognito and starting to hang out in cities and getting into all
340
sorts o f shit that she never even knew existed. She m et Hank and M arty and
started drinking and smoking dope and going to the Soap Creek and the
Armadillo, and pretty soon she was living in Austin and telling the PRCA to go
fuck themselves.
M arty Kelso told me he fell in love w ith Stacy the day he m et her—and
Hank was in love w ith her too, and neither one o f them w as going to admit that,
really, they were m ore in love with each oth er’s idea o f Stacy than they were with
Stacy herself. They w ere ju st so caught up with this chick, like she w as the last
authentic cowgirl in the state o f Texas o r something. B ut, yeah, she was lean and
she was mean and she w as rough around the edges but still sexy as hell, and she
could fuck just as well as she could fight— and, I’m telling you, this gal could
fight!
But she also— I remember M arty telling me he w as incredibly intimidated
by her—she really scared the shit out o f him. I mean, she represented a certain
ideal for him that— one he wasn’t so sure he could m easure up to. I think she
intimidated Hank to o, but it wasn’t like Hank to admit something like that—to
himself or anybody else. M arty would never have made a pass at Stacy or kissed
her o r anything like th at if she hadn’t initiated it. And— I ’m sure he couldn’t
believe it at first— but she d id initiate it, and so, slowly but surely after that, he
was able to— he got a little more ballsy, you know?
What I’m saying, I guess, is that it w asn’t all her fault, this “affair” w ith M arty, if
you want to call it that, which lasted alm ost as long as her “relationship” w ith
Hank. But that’s w hat it came down to in the end: Hank was dating her publicly
341
and M arty was dating her privately and Stacy was totally up-front about the
whole thing, which is why I wouldn’t call it an affair exactly, I’d ju st call it some
fu ck ed up shit.
see also Oak Hill, V-Day, No Fun, The Peggy Suicides
Walker, Jerry Jeff-

1967 - Circus Maximus
1968 - Neverland Revisited
1968 - Mr. Bojangles
1969 -D ri/tin ’ Way o f Life
1970 - Five Years Gone
1970 - Bein ’ Free
1972 - Jerry J e ff Walker
1973 - Viva Terlingua
1974 - W alker’s Collectibles
1975 - R id in ’ High
1976 - I t ’s A Good Night F or Singing
1977 - A M an M ust Carry On
1978 - Contrary To Ordinary
1978 - Jerry J e ff {Red, W hite & Blue)
1979 - Too O ld To Change
1980 - The B est o f JJW
1981 - Reunion
WBCN G E T B A C K REFERENCE ACETATE -

An early mix o f the “Get Back” album was prepared by Beatles producer Glyn Johns on
M arch 10, 1969. This version sounds substantially different than the final, Phil Spector-
ized version which was released in the U .S. on M onday, May 18,1970 as Let It Be. It is
the 3-10-69 mix that is the source for the WBCN broadcast o f 09-22-69.
342
TRANSCRIPT OF THE BEATLES W BCN GET BACK REFERENCE ACETATE14
BROADCAST SEPTEMBER 22, 196915
(tape cuts in)16
DJ: ... Side 2 o f the G et Back album. Listen while you can because, ah, if—if the
past is any indication as to the future, and it’s the only one w e have, we will in
some way be stopped from playing this album by the record com pany itself after
the next couple o f days, so get it in while you can—it won’t be o u t until
Christmas. This is all o f Side Two 17, from the Beatles next next album, called,
“Get Back.”
14 - An early mix o f the “Get Back” album was prepared by Beatles producer Glyn Johns mi March 10,
1969. This version sounds substantially different than the final, Phil Spector-ized version which was
released in the U.S. on Monday, May 18, 1970 as Let It Be. It is the 3-10-69 mix that is the source for the
WBCN broadcast o f09-22-69.
15 - Weslea’s brother, “Brick,” was going to school at Clark University in Worcester, MA, at the time, and
he taped the broadcast o ff the radio while studying for his MECHANICS AND STRENGTH OF
MATERIALS exam. We received our copy in the mail on September 26, 1969, the same day that The
Beaties’ “official” new album, Abbey Road, was released. We listened to the two “new” releases back-to-
back that afternoon.
16 - Clearly, WBCN had not secured the actual reference acetate, but a reel-to-reel copy o f it.
Nevertheless, the sound quality, once the tape gets wound tight, is superb.
17 - Weslea: “Side TWO?”
Me: “That’s what he said. Is it rewound all the wayT
Weslea: “I dunno. You set it up.”
Me: “It was at the beginning.”
Weslea: “W ell...”
Me: “Well, I don’t know. Maybe you hit forward.”
Weslea: “When? It just started.”
Me: “Well, then you’re brother fucked up the tape.”
343
The tape makes a brief, warping sound, as the reels take up slack.18
Paul McCartney: Ah one, tw o, three, four...
opening chords o f -> “Let It Be” (Lennon/M cCartney)/p them
DJ: Wait— let’s see.20

W hile the piano a n d M cCartney vocal sound fin e, several overlapping
tracks o f the recording sound as though they’re being played backwards.
Okay, w e’re having a little trouble with the stereo, so, w e’ll try it now; I thinlc it
should w ork. This is “G et B ack.”
The tape makes another warping sound, as the reels take up sla ck
Paul McCartney: Ah one, tw o, three, four...
opening chords o f “L et It Be. ” The song now p la ys all the way through.
JohnLennon: Y eah ...

Paul McCartney: Do a nice b eat... P shhhhh....
John Lennon: Call m e, you know, give me the chorus I ’ll come screamin ’ in.
Paul McCartney: heh...
-> ‘D on’t Let M e Down” (Lennon/M cCartney)
B rie f acoustic gu itar tuning / run. Pause.

Ice-cubes rattling in a glass.
Weslea: “M y brother did NOT fuck up!”

Me: “W ell...”
Weslea: “He’s studying to be an engineer.”
Me: “A recording engineer?”
Weslea: [punches me, hard, in the shoulder] dss!
18
• Weslea and I look at each other, with the same fear in our eyes: Isthe tape defective? Is it about to snap? My
God!Is this the only copy? Did Brick make a back-up? He doesn’t even like the Beatles; he only recorded this
broadcast as a favor to his sister. Shit! Should we stop it? Can it be repaired? Quickly! Stop the tape!
- Ah!!! Phew! Weslea smiles. GOD, how I love Weslea’s smile.
20 - Jinx! Shit, we smiled too soon.
344
Paul M cCartney: O kay...
Another b rie f acoustic run. Pause.
John Lennon: {shouting, in background) Quiet, Please!
Unidentified laughter, (ha, ha, ha.)
-> “For You Blue” (Harrison)
Short guitar burst (notes dragged down the neck o f the guitar).
John Lennon: Picture the fingers, Greg. Okay—

-> “Get Back” (Lemon/M cCartney)
-» “The Walk” (McCracklin/Gorlic)
McCartney: Yeh. ARRrrr! (laughs).
Silence. Long Pause.
DJ: That’s gotta be the end, I guess, o f Side 2 o f The B eatles Get Back. I—in the
spirit o f Get Back. I gotta tell you, it is such a game, to be working at a radio
station. The Beatles become really fu n , because.. .som ebody gets the Beatle
album, right? Some radio station, say WYMX gets the Beatle album and they play
it. And we hear it and we all jum p around, stamp our feet, say “Gosh, they got the
Beatle album—we gotta get it.” So we call our -o u r Beatle promo man, our—our
Capitol promo guy, Brian Pane 11a, and we say, “Hey, Brian. They played it over
there... and you didn’t get it to us, and he says, “OH n o ... they got it againl” and
he runs over and sends telegrams, says, “Hey, d—you can’t play it, and—and
Dick Summers says, “Oh, o f course they can play it,” and—and, so in the
meantime we manage, though our ow n devious, nefarious means, to get copies
ourselves. By this time—Brian— doesn’t know quite w hat to do, ‘cause w e’re
the guys he’s trying to get the tape, and we get it by ourselves, and then he’s got
two radio stations playing the Beatle album before the release date— if you play
an album before the release date in America, Apple is going to get—P. O .’d ... and
they’re going to send you a letter, o r a telegram, saying, you know, “I f you ever
do this, you won’t get serviced, w ith, the next Beatle album on tim e.” So
everybody giggles and laughs and stomps around, but takes it extremely seriously,
‘cause they’re the Beatles. .. .B ut it’s so much fun. In the meantime, everybody
in the world has it, but if the trend continues, if Beatle albums are released every
four days—it’s really gonna drive Brian crazy! And, in fact, if you’re taping
this—
The sound o f —a parrot?— in the background
345
— if you’re taping this o ff th e radio, someone’s going to come to your house and
say, “I’m sorry you can’t play that album in your house. And they’re gonna send
you—in feet, if you’ve taped this, you might be the first on your block to get a
tape from ah—ah, a telegram , from Apple. Saying, “Don’t play the record in
your house, ‘cause...the release date...and you can’t even have it, in feet, flush it
down your toilet.”
Anyway, it sounds a great deal like the J.G eils “Bathroom Tape”— it’s Side 2 o f
The Beatles Get Back... W e’ll do all o f Side One, 21 and so m uch more new stu ff
that it’s not to be believed, ah, between now and te— (laughs) ten o ’clock. I
can—this is gonna be fun.
Unidentified Man in Background: Sure is...
DJ: Psshhoool You wanna stay around and listen—
Unidentified Man in Background: —w ith you.. .all the w ay...
DJ: This is Get Back. I suppose, in the spirit o f The Beatles Get Back album, you
ju st—Bll-aah— you spit on the microphone and stuff.
He hucks up a lungie.
The Get Back album was recorded at the sam e tim e as the single, and it was on a
rooftop. The Beatles were getting a little tired o f working around in the studio,
Weslea: “See! I told you he knows what he’s doing.”

Me: “More than you can say for the DJ.”
Weslea: “Why are they playing Side One second?
Me: “No freakin’ idea.”
Weslea: “Stoned probably.”
Me: “Probably.”
Weslea: “I wish we had some pot. I could really go for some pot.”
Me: “Henry has pot.”
Weslea: “Call him!”
Me: “Right now?”
Weslea: “Yes!”
Me: “C’mon, Wes. We’re right in the middle o f the tape.”
Weslea: “So? We’ll rewind it.”
Me: “Let’s just hear it through once—all the way. Then I’ll call him.’
Weslea: “By then my parents will be home.”
Me: “Then we’ll go over to my uncle’s house.”
Weslea: “I could really go for some pot.”
Me: [Big sigh. I turn off the tape machine.] “Where’s the phone...”
I call, but nobody answers at Henry’s house, and I am VERY pleased, though I pretend to be indifferent. So Weslea
makes do with vodka instead, stealing a healthy glass-full o f Smirnoff from her dad’s liquor cabinet and filling the
bottle back to its original level with water. We resume our listening.
346
so they decided to surface, and they w ent upstairs and se t up the recording
equipment, and they just w ent and had a ball, and they w ent and had a jam, and a
session, and they’re going to release that as part o f a—a beautiful Christmas
package th a t might cost you some bread, but you can scrape it up and buy it
‘cause it’ll have a 125-picture, ah, page, picture book o f T he Beatles, and there
will be a film commemorating the thing, so th at’ll be their Christmas gift to you,
and we’ll listen to the rest o f the album a little bit later this evening.
“Get Back” (Lennon/M cCartney)
Band pauses.
McCartney: W haa?
-> “Get Back” (Lennon/M cCartney)
“I’ve Got a Feeling” (Lennon/M cCartney) Start /c u t...

That tape warp noise again !
-> “Teddy Boy” (Lennon/M cCartney)
McCartney: So there’s that one for fair consideration.
->“Two o f Us” (Lennon/M cCartney) Start / cut...
Lennon: I forgot, ahm, you know, I forget things...

McCartney: O kay...
->“Two o f Us” (Lennon/M cCartney) Start / cut...

Lennon: I thought you were singing...
McCartney: I was! (laughs)
Lennon: R obot...
->“Two o f Us” (Lennon/M cCartney) Complete.
McCartney: And so w e leave the little town o f.. .London, England.
Tape cuts, warps...
Lennon: Okay... you’re doing th e ... you never changed drumming n o w ... Yeah, th at’s
okay... All right, Glynnis, w e’re o ff again.. .yeah...
McCartney: (warming up, singing ) All I want is y o u ...
Lennon: O kay...O ne, Tw o, Three.
False start.
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Lennon: One, Two, Three.
4 “Dig a Pony” (Lennon/McCartney)
-> “I’ve G ot a Feeling” (Lennon/McCartney) ... fir st fe w seconds o f the song only, before
the D J fa d es it out.
DJ: Okay, w e’ll end it here for now, and w e’ll get back to The Beatles, so to speak, at
eight-thirty. I f you have a television set in your m idst, on Channel Seven you
will find.. .The B eatles.. .and Crosby, Stills, and N ash in this next hour. What I
would like you to do is turn on the picture, and leave the sound on, ‘cause we
have some new nice things to play that w on’t be The Beatles until eight-thirty,
ju st so you can watch ‘em. You can put it up on the side and watch it turn brown,
and th at’s life, and the apple is there for you, and the apple is there for the apple,
and The Beatles will be there with G et Back on the apple. At eight-thirty they’re
on the radio, then, and—after then, they are on the television, right now.
The D J is interrupted by lots o f abrupt tape cuts and warps...
-> “I’ve G ot a Feeling” (Lennon/McCartney)
-> “The Long and Winding Road” (Lennon/McCartney)
--END OF TAPE—
See also Get B ack, B ootleg R ecordings, R O IO , M others, Stam pers.
Wilson, Eddie - The manager o f one o f Austin’s first psychedelic bands, Shiva’s
Headband, Eddie went on to co-found the Armadillo W orld Headquarters, and, later, The
White Rabbit (a short-lived Austin disco-live music hall).
E ddie: “it’s really not grow th per se, but what you grow into...”
348
Leo Joseph: Eddie Wflson...kind o f “straight” seeming...kind o f an
operator...but not in a bad way...totally sympathetic to the M ovem ent...tried to
make the Armadillo a kind o f community center...
Who is the Cosmic American?

By James Hinman
Austia, TX —It’s a lot like doing card tricks on the Wave has been welcome there as well: The Ramones
radio. If you’ve tuned-in to KOOK-FM recently, you have played there, and so have The Talking Heads.
may have “heard” about the sartorial splendor of this “That’s been part of the vision from the very
“Regressive Country” disc jockey, the “Mysterious beginning,” says the The Cosmic American. “Mike
Rhinestone DJ,” best known as THE COSMIC Tolleson and Eddie Wilson and Jim Franklin had this
AMERICAN. He’s in disguise, apparently. Nobody concept of the Armadillo being a kind of creative arts
knows who he really is, or what he really looks like. laboratory. And let’s not forget Ballet Night, Opera
And this Lone Ranger of the airwaves is on a mission: Night, or the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar. What
He wants to save the Armadillo World Headquarters we’re talking about DIVERSITY ...and perhaps a
from the wrecking ball. little bit of weed and tequila thrown into the mix.”
As some of you may know, Cosmic American Some people think that our masked man may be
Music was the term that the late Gram Parsons used to none other than Jim Franklin himself. “He sure
describe his particular brand of hippie-redneck blue sounds a lot like him,” says Mike Carter, 30, a regular
eyed soul music. Here in Austin we called it at the ‘Dillo. “He’s got that same sort of hyper-
Progressive Country, or Outlaw music, or country- braggadoccio Texan accent.”
rock—and a lot of people these days call it “passe.” Others believe he’s simply one of the KOOK DJs
But the ‘Dillo has booked a lot more than just doing a little routine.“Dangerous Dan” Furdon maybe.
Cosmo Cowboys over the years. Oh sure, they’ve Or Ken Rippy.
had their share of them—everyone from Willie Whoever it is, one thing is for certain—he’s not
Nelson to Michael Murphey to Jerry Jeff Walker or hurting KOOK’s ratings, which have been pretty
Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen. But hurting in general over these last few years, due to the
they’ve also booked blues acts like Freddy King and decline of Progressive Country in Austin. Will the
Johnny Winter, rode & roll acts like Frank Zappa and Cosmic American be able to save the ‘Dillo? If not,
Captain Beefheart and Van Morrison. And the New KOOK’s offices out on N. Lamar Blvd may well be
next in line for the wrecking ball.
World Wide Texas Tour-

During 1976 and 1977, as Progressive Country was dying and Punk was being bom, ZZ
Top hit the road with their W orld Wide Texas Tour, a rock and roll extravaganza that
shamelessly hawked all every Texas cliche in the book. They even traveled w ith a
menagerie o f live animals th at included longhorn cattle, vultures, and a buflalo. The tour
349
was a huge success, and this “Little O f Band from Texas” sold millions o f tickets.
H ank Pete’s Almost Texas Tour o f 1977, which made a point o f visiting as many Texas
border towns as possible (east, w est, north, and south) without actually setting foot inside
the Lone Star State was a publicity stunt intended to serve as both a parody o f the W orld
Wide Texas Tour and a boycott o f the state which refused to give H ank his due.
— X —
Xerox - pseudonym for an early L.A. bootlegger
Xerox Kids —see Punk, No Fun, Dead Young Cowboys, Peggy Suicides
Y
“Yee haw! Country Music is whooping and hollaring and pouring beer on your
head.”
—Bob Brown, Conqueroo guitarist
(Austin Sun, Oct.17,1974, “Austin's Musical History Explored** by Billy B rammer).
Young, N eii-
Discographv o f Official Releases:
N eil Young -1 9 6 8
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere - 1969
A fter The G old Rush - 1970
Harvest -1 9 7 2
Journey Through The Past - 1972
Times Fades Away - 1973
On The Beach - 1974
Tonight's The N ight - 1975
Zuma -1 9 7 5
Long M ay You Run - 1976
American Stars 'N B ars - 1977
Decade -1 9 7 7
Comes A Time - 1978
Rust Never Sleeps - 1979
Live Rust -1 9 7 9
Hawks & D oves - 1980
re-ac-tor - 1981
352
Selected Discography o f Essential Neil Young Bootleg Recordings:
NEIL YOUNG:
09-??-65 Elektra demos —5 songs ST / B+
1970 Boston Tea Party —Boston, MA (2 songs —15 min.)
02-23-71 BBC Sessions —FM / A- or B+ / (8 tracks )
1973 Time Fades Awav (out of print, classic album )
73-01-15 Lonely Weekend - Maple Leaf Gardens, Toronto (S.G.) AUD / B+
01-21-73 (w/ The Stray Gators) Last Dance - Carnegie Hall, NYC / AUD / B+
09-22-73 Sunset Strip - (late show) Roxy Theater, L_A. (w/ the Santa Monica Flyers) / B or B+-
11-03-73 (w/ The Santa Monica Flyers) Speakin’ Out —The Palace Theater, Manchester, England
/ AUD / A- or B+
11-15-73 Goodbye Waterface —Live at Queens College, NY AUD / A- or B+
1974 On the Beach (out o f print, classic album, w/ bonus tracks) ST / A
05-16-74 Citizen Kane Junior Blues (solo acoustic) —Bottom Line. NYC / AUD / B+
1974 Demos & outtakes
1975 Tonight’s the Night Acetates / ST (vinyl source) / B+ (some static and popping) / B+
03-23-75 The Prophet & the Clown - Kezar Stadium, Golden Gate Park —San Francisco, CA -
SNACK Benefit -live, w/ Bob Dylan and The Band / FM? / B+, but with low volume
levels on a lot of the vocal mics, particularly Dylan’s...Young’s vocals are clear for the
most part / set includes Are You Ready for the Country, Looking fix' a Love, and
Helpless
1975-76 Demos & Outtakes
1976 American Stars ‘n Bars (out of print, classic album, w/ bonus tracks) ST / A
1976? Acoustic Young / A-
1976? Chrome Dreams Ainreleased album 1 / A or A-
1977-78 Demos & Outtakes
1980 Hawks & Doves (out o f print, classic album, w/ bonus tracks) ST / A-
see Hearses, On the Beach, The Dark Trilogy, Honeyslldes, M otion Pictures.
Yours Truly, Anonymous-

GRAM PARSONS INTERVIEW : FROM SAFE A T HOME TO SIN CITY
(in Sid Griffin, p.55)
“There is no Gram Parsons.
Y ours Truly,
Anonymous.”
— Gram Parsons
z
Ziggy Stardust & the Spiders from Mars -
see Legendary Stardust Cowboy, David Bowie, Pirate’s World, Ersatz,
pseudonymity, Pseudocide
ZZ Top - see W orld Wide Texas Tour, Heard It On the X.
CHRONOLOGY
1946
Gram Parsons bom , November 5.
1954
Robert (Bob Dylan) Zimmerman’s B ar Mitzvah held
1955
Nicholas Ray’s Rebel W ithout a Cause released, starring James Dean. Dean dies in
crash.
“Rock Around the Clock” reaches #1 on the charts.
1956
Henry Allen Peterson (Hank Pete) born Jan. 10.
Allen Ginsburg’s Howl published.
Martin Luther King emerges as m ajor black leader; advocates passive resistance to
segregation.
Martin (Marty) Kelso born March 3.
Elvis Presley’s “H eartbreak Hotel,” his first #1, released.
1957
Joseph M cCarthy dies.
Jack Kerouac’s O n The Road published.
1958
Buddy Holly appears on Ed Sullivan Show.
Vice President Nixon received w ith open hostility o n goodwill tour o f South America.
Beatnik movement, originating in California, spreads throughout U.S. and Europe.

Beginning o f widespread use o f drugs.
1959
Fidel Castro ousts Cuban President Fulgencio B atista and becomes Premier.
Charles de Gaulle inaugurated as President o f France.
Bob Dylan leaves Hibbing, M innesota.
U.S. Post Office declares D.H. Law rence’s Ladv Chatteriv’s Lover unobjectionable.
Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and The Big Bopper die in plane crash.
1960
J.F.K. elected 35th U.S. President; Lyndon B. Johnson, V.P.
1961
U.S. severs relations with Cuba. Bay o f Pigs invasion by exiled Cubans, with U .S.
backing, foils.
Berlin Wall constructed.
Bob Dylan debuts at Gerdes Folk City, New York.
Actions o f John Birch Society concern U.S. Senate.
1962
U.N. finds approx. 44% o f w orld’s pop. o f 1.6 billion illiterate.
Dylan appears at Carnegie Hall.
1963
Dylan appears on BBC-TV, England, at Newport Folk Festival.
200, 000 Freedom M archers gather in Washington. Violent civil rights dem onstrations
Birmingham. Kennedy calls o u t troops.
356
The Beatles “Please, Please M e” is their 1st #1 hit.

John F Kennedy assassinated in Dallas, Nov. 22, 1963.
1964
Dylan tours with Joan Baez, plays Philharmonic “Halloween C oncert.”
Cassius Clay wins W orld Heavyweight Championship, becomes Muhammed Ali.
M.L.K. awarded Nobel Peace Prize.
U.S. Surgeon General’s report links lung cancer w ith cigarette smoking.
1965
Malcolm X fatally shot in NY.
Dylan films Don’t Look Back, sw itches to electric music, releases “Like a Rolling
Stone.”
Beatles play Shea Stadium in NY.
Byrds hit #1 with Dylan’s “M r. Tambourine M an.”
Jefferson Airplane form in San Francisco.
1966
Lenny Bruce dies.
Dylan crashes motorcycle in W oodstock, NY, drops from view, re-signs with CBS.
Timothy Leary forms LSD religious cult.
LSD banned.
Beatles retire from stage.
Sept. 12 - “The Monkees” TV series debuts on NBC at 7:30 PM E astern Standard Time.
O ctober 10 - The Monkees 1st LP released.
December 3 - Monkees play their 1st live concert before a sellut crow d o f 8, 364 at
Honolulu’s International Center Arena.
357
W oody Guthrie dies.
1967
Jan. 7 -
“They’ve had a fantastic promotion in the States, but I think people will get tired o f them .
I’d give the Monkees until July in America, perhaps a little longer.” — M ick Jagger in
Fab 208
Feb. 7 -
M icky Dolenz meets Paul McCartney at Paul’s St. John’s Wood home. Mike Nesmith
spends some time with John Lennon and sits in on a Set. Pepper’s recording session.
O tis Redding dies.
M ar. 25 -
A company in New Jersey attempts to cash in on the M onkees success by franchising
“M onkees Soft Drink Nightclubs” for teenagers under the drinking age.
Che Guevara dies.
Rolling Stone magazine founded.
April 1-2 -
M onkees invade Canada.
Beatles release Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely H earts Club Band.
D on’t Look Back premiers.
M ike Nesmith’s tonsils reported “liberated” from the hospital by a fan less than an hour
after their removal.
M onterey Pop Festival held.
June 30-31-
Mickey & Mike o f the M onkees wear black armbands at back-to-back Empire Pool
concerts in sympathy for M ick Jagger and Keith Richards, convicted a few days earlier
on a drug rap. Afterward the Monkees party at a London nightclub w ith George Harrison,
Pattie Boyd, Brian Jones, and Keith M oon.
Nationwide demonstrations against Vietnam War.
$17 billion spent for alcoholic beverages in U.S.
358
July 14-16- The M onkees play three-dates at Forest Hills Tennis Stadium (att. 36,192).
Opener, Jimi Hendrix is booed off the stage by the unsympathetic Am erican audience
teenagers and their parents.
The D oors release “Light My Fire.”
Sept. 11 - “The M onkees” TV show begins its second season on N BC against brand new
competition, “Cowboy in Africa” on ABC, and the long-reigning, “Gunsmoke” on CBS.
1968
M artin Luther King assassinated in Memphis.
Gram Parsons’ International Submarine Band releases Safe At Home.
Robert F. Kennedy assassinated in L.A.
Otis Redding’s “Sittin’ On the Dock o f the Bay” reaches #1.
Michael Nesmith produces and records six “fblk-country-rock”songs at RCA V ictor in

Nashville. The tunes are slated to be included on an upcoming M onkees double-album,
where each Monkee w ould be featured on an entire album side (or on roughly 6 cuts).
This LP was conceived before the B eatles’ White Album—the major difference being
that the Beatles released their double album.
Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Oddvsev released.
Nixon elected 36th President o f U.S.; Spiro Agnew, V.P.
Hair opens in NYC.
The Byrds release Sw eetheart o f the Rodeo fAugustY
1969 (13)
Judy Garland dies.
Flying Burrito B rothers release Gilded Palace o f Sin fFeb.l
Led Zeppelin appear at N ew port Folk Festival.
Dylan records in Nashville with Johnny Cash, releases N ash ville Skvline (April).
May 1 - Dylan appears on Johnny Cash Show.
359
June 8 - Brian Jones announces his departure from the Rolling Stones.
July 3 - Brian Jones drow ns in his ow n swimming pool.
July 19 - Monkees appear on the Johnny Cash Show (ABC - TV) .
July 20: Apollo XI lunar module lands on the moon. A stronaut N eil Armstrong 1st m an
to stand on moon. “Buzz” Aldrin becom es the 2nd man to stand on the moon.
Aug. 9 & 10: Sharon tate and others m urdered by M anson family.
August 15-17-
W oodstock Music and A rt fair attracts m ore than 300 thousand young people.
Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch released.
September 20, 1969:

Rolling Stone publishes article on “G reat White Wonder”
Abbev R oad released (9/26)
(10/12) “Tom” calls Russ Gibb at W KNR-FM with rum or o f M cCartney Death Hoax.
MK & HP “balance” a bootleg o f “Sgt.Pepper’s” entitled Billy. Sheared.
Dec. 6 :
Meredith Hunter dies at Altamont Speedway during Rolling Stones concert.
Dec. 9: M anson arrested for the m urder o f Sharon Tate.
Jim M orrison arrested for “lewd behavior” following D oors concert in Miami/
1970 (14)
Jimi Hendrix dies.
Chicago Eight trial ends.
Janis Joplin dies.
Clapton’s manager R obert Stigwood throw s a party at his home after the London
premeire o f Kenneth Tynan’s Oh, C alcutta. Harrison show s up late, after working in the
studio on All Things M ust Pass, and finds Clapton walking arm -in-arm in the garden w ith
Pattie.
360
Lavla & Other A ssorted Love Songs released.

(outtakes later Bootlegged by MK and his dad as L ost Criteria and re-issued in 1978 as
Love M e or I’ll Shoot, or That H urtw ood Edgel
National Guard kills 4 Vietnam W ar protestors at K ent State University.
FBI battles Black Panthers.
Flying Burrito Brothers release Burrito Deluxe (M ay).
Dylan receives Princeton honorary degree.
231 million TV sets in use in U.S.
Documentary film about Rolling Stones at Altamont, Gimme Shelter, released.
1971 (15)
Dylan’s Eat the Document screened in NYC.
Jim M orrison dies.
Gram Parsons meets Emmylou Harris in Washington, D.C.
Bill Graham closes both Fillmores.
People’s Republic o f China admitted to U.N.
George Jackson dies.
1972 (16)
U.S. Senate approved constitutional ammendment (E.R.A .) banning sex discrimination

sent to states for ratification.
Gov. George Wallace shot while campaigning for president.
Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman” reaches #1.
Nixon visits China and U.S.S.R.
John Lennon’s U.S. immigrant visa expires.
Police arrest burglars inside W atergate Democratic N ational H eadquarters.
361
J.Edgar hoover dies.
Nixon re-elected by near landslide.
U.S. military draft ends; service becomes voluntary.
David Bowie album, Ziggv Stardust & the Sniders From Mars, released.
Arab terrorists kill 11 Israeli athletes participating in M unich Olympics.
Nielsen ratings indicate All in the Family m ost popular U .S. TV program .
1973(17)
Gram Parsons releases 1st solo LP, GP (Feb.)
All state laws limiting a woman’s right to abortion overturned by U.S. Supreme court.
Pablo Picasso dies.
Henry Peterson drops out of High School and moves to Los Angeles area with Room
Temperature. The group reincarnates as The Slow Moving Drains. M K stays in
FLA for another year and graduates.
American losses in Vietnam War 1965-73: Combat deaths: 45,948; non-com bat deaths:
10,298; wounded: 303,640.
Total U.S. expenditures in Vietnam W ar: $109.5 billion.
Gram Parsons dies, September 19.
MK begins senior year o f HS.
Jim Croce dies, Septem ber 20.
Energy crises due to Arab oil embargo and petroleum products shortage.
Clive Davis fired as president o f Columbia Records.
Randy Marvin quits Slow Moving Drains for “personal” reasons.
V.P Spiro Agnew resigns, subsequently convicted o f income tax evasion. Nixon names
Gerald Ford V.P.
362
Hank Pete loses heart for L.A. music scene. Tail- between-his-legs, Hank moves the
band to Austin, TX.
Presidential aides Dean, Haldeman, and Erlichman resign under fire.
M ilitant American Indians occupy W ounded Knee, S outh Dakota.
1974 (18)
Duke Ellington dies.
Eponymously titled LP, Slow M oving Drains self-released on the “unofficial” Tu

Madre label.
June - In desperation, Pattie H arrison flies to Los A ngeles to stay w ith her sister, Jenny,
and her husband, M ick Fleetwood. Days later she links up with Eric Clapton in Miami,
where he is recording his comeback album 461 Ocean Boulevard. C lapton begins to
control his addiction.
Nixon implicated in W atergate break-in cover-up. N ixon resigns. Gerald Ford becom es
38th President o f U .S.
Slow Moving Drains change name to The Floorbirds.
Gram Parsons’ 2nd solo LP, Grievous AngeL posthum ously released.
Patti Hearst photographed robbing a bank at age 19.
President Ford pardons Nixon. Also grants limited am nesty to draft-evaders.
Record number o f natural foods introduced to market.
Dylan tours U.S. w ith The Band.
(Summer) M arty Kelso enrolls as undergraduate at Univerity o f Texas at Austin
AT and T, largest private U.S. employer, bans discrim ination against homosexuals.
U.S.S.R. space probe lands on M ars.
1975 (19)
Austin publicly declared a “G roover’s Paradise.”
363
U.S. military involvement in Vietnam ends. 1,000s o f Vietnamese refugees and orphans
arrive in U.S.
Hank Pete meets Stacy Walgreen at an O ak Hill Buck-out.
Hank & his band have a gig elsewhere, but Marty K elso and Stacy Walgreen
attend 2ad Night o f Emmylou Harris at the AWHQ together. Marty falls for Stacy.
Church attendance in U .S. reaches all tim e low o f 40% during 1971 and 1975.
Jaws released.
Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue opens in Plymouth, M ass.
Kidnap victim and fugitive, Patricia H earst captured by FBI agents in San Francisco.
1976 (20)
Rocky released.
Rubin “Hurricane” C arter released from prison for re-trial.
Progressive Country Movement peaks in Austin.
Jimmy C arter elected 39th U.S. President, quotes Bob Dylan during inauguration speech.
U.S. Celebrates bi-centennial.
Gram Parsons’ Sleepless Nights posthum ously released (M ay).
Hank Pete launches his “Almost Texas” Tour.
Gary Gilmore executed, Salt Lake City.
1977 (21)
Saturday N ight Fever released.
Star W ars released.
June 9 - George & Pattie Harrison are granted a divorce in London on th e grounds o f
irreconcilable differences.
The Floorbirds disband.
364
1978 (22)
The Sex Pistols play San Antonio & Dallas.
Formation o f the Peggy Suicides.
Formation o f The Dead Young Cowboys.
Guyana tragedy.
Carl Stoldtman promotes M arty Kelso from being a radio intern to doing the
morning traffic report on KOOK.
1979 (23)
M arch 27 - Eric Clapton dons an off-w hite cowboy hat, a white tux and a black vest, and
ties the knot with Pattie Harrison at the Temple B ethel in Tucson, A rizona in front o f 40
o f the couples best friends. G eorge and the new M rs. Harrison are invited but do not
attend—however, they do attend the M ay 19 grand reception at Clapton’s estate,
Hurtwood Edge, in the tiny village o f Ewehurst. Three-fourths o f the Beatles perform
live together at the party, covering “M agical M ystery Tour,” 2 Chuck B erry songs, and
“G et Back.”
1980 (24)
Ronald Reagan elected 40th President o f U.S.
The Cosmic American debuts on the airwaves.
John Lennon shot (12/8).
H ank Pete’s middle finger found in pool of blood in Room #8 o f the Joshua Tree Inn
( 12/ 8 ).
Refried Records torched by arsonists. (12/25)
The Cosmic American is unmasked.
The Return of Hank Pete.
1981 (25)
The Armadillo W orld Headquarters closes its doors forever.
Hinckley shoots Reagan.
IT WAS TW ENTY YEARS AGO T O D A Y ...
366
Sado-domestic. That’s what somebody called his lyrics online this morning. Hank
Pete sits at his kitchen table, mesmerized by the brand new laptop com puter in front o f
him, his toddler, M aya, an arm ’s-length away in her highchair. He is reading a post
entitled, “Homebo(d)y,” which criticizes his “shamelessly self-imposed exile on
m ainstreet.” For the m ost part, this w riter o f this message is dredging up the same old
complaints about the direction Hank has been taking w ith his music ever since the break
up o f his old band T he Dead Young Cowboys—20 years ago !
According to somebody with the user-name Bushrod @earthlink.net, Hank
doesn’t appear “sado-dom estic” at all, but, rather, “domasochistic
Although, perhaps, argues DYC33@aoI.com, the more appropriate coinage
would be “domesfarchistic.”
Hank looks up from the screen. His wife Gail is dressed for w ork and filling a
stainless steel therm os w ith coffee.
“Can I finish this?” she asks, holding up the now empty carafe to the coffee
maker.
“Uh huh...” he says, and mouse-clicks to the next message in the thread.
“You’ve g o t to stop leaving your guitar picks around the house,” Gail says.
“Maya almost sw allowed one yesterday.”
“I will,” he says. ‘T’m sorry.”
367
“D on’t apologize to me,” Gail says.
He turns to his daughter in her highchair. “Sorry, Little Pooper.”
“Pooper,” Maya repeats, almost perfectly, but with a bit too hard a stress on the
poo.
“Hey, Hon?” he says. “What do you think... would you say my lyrics are sado-
domestic... or would you say they’re domestachistic?”
“Dom esta what?” Gails comes over and stands behind him, places her hands on
his shoulders and leans tow ard the 15” Super XGA color monitor.
“I ’d say you’re spending too much time on that thing,” she says, and kisses him
on the top o f his head. “I’ll be home from w ork around 5:30 o r 6:00. Why don’t you get
out o f the house today. Take Maya for a stroll or something.”
“That w riter’s coming by at lunchtime. Maybe after he leaves, th o u g h ...”
“It’d be good for you,” she says. ‘I ’ll see you tonight. And don’t smoke pot
around the baby.”
“Course not,” he says.
“O r cigarettes!” she says, before going o u t though the doorway leading from the
kitchen to the garage.
He has been eavesdropping on his audience for a m onth or so now, reading the
newsgroups (there are two o f them) devoted alm ost entirely to the subject o f the NO FUN
movement, which Hank’s fans believe he started back in the late 70’s. The less popular
o f the tw o message boards, alt.m usic.floorbirds, can be accessed with complete
anonymity. I f you are only reading (or “lurking,” as they call it), no one even has to
368
know your email address. But w hether you’re reading or writing, you have to subscribe
if you want to access POSTHORN, a listserve run by the really hardcore “bird-heads”
(Floorbirds fens) and cowpunks . So Hank joined-up via a free and presumably less
traceable hotmail account and the user-name—let’s call it “M adonna.”
This current thread is by far the most interesting he’s encountered. W ith the
exception o f messages that are m erely informative (tour dates, new releases, etc.), the
average post tends to be rather trivial or hypothetical. Or trivial AND hypothetical. This
seems especially true, when there is no real news. People will start the stupidest threads,
Top Ten Songs to Fuck To, for example. Or else they’ll start up w ith the old “W ho’d win
in a Celebrity D eath M atch?” routine. These people really need to get over themselves,
branch out a little bit. Enough already with the Dead Young Cowboys, with The Slow
Moving Drains. Enough, even, w ith the goddamned Floorbirds. Hank Pete is sick to
death o f it, the whole No Fun M ovement, this unwarranted nostalgia for a fantasized past.
And his last solo album, Hoover, has been his way o f saying so.
So far there have been seven responses threaded to the “Homebod(d)y” post.
Four o f them have used the practical but uninventive subject heading o f “RE:
Homebo(d)y,” one used the heading “Sez You, Cocksm oker,” another “RE: Sez You,
Cocksmoker, and the last used th e heading “Anybody Homebo(d)y?” Hank is tem pted to
go straight to the final thread, w hich certainly looks to be the m ost the most w itty and
intelligent, but he has learned th at to skip ahead is to lose the “narrative” o f the thread, if
you can call it that. Sometimes you can and sometimes you can’t. Y ou can usually tell
after the first couple o f messages whether or not there is any substance or tension w orth
369
pursuing. Should there been ten posts in a row w ith the subject heading “RE: Sez You,
Cocksm oker,” for example, then you no longer have a narrative, you have Flame War.
Hank found his first couple o f Flame W ars kind o f amusing, but they got old really fast,
as they tended to be incredibly juvenile. A lot o f name-calling and references to penis
size. Occasionally, though, you’ll come across a real m aster flamer. Somebody who
really knowshow to turn abusive language into an art form. Hank can appreciate a good
put-dow n as much as the next guy, although some o f these guys are just plain arrogant or
mean, literally out there trolling w ith flame-bait. N evertheless, Hank is considering
borrowing a few o f the better insults and trying them onstage the next time he encounters
a heckler.
He is always telling them to shut up. Usually it’s a group o f assholes in the back,
frat boys w ith ball caps and budweisers, the same guys who are constantly yelling for him
to play Dead Young Cowboys songs. O r worse, to play Slow M oving Drains songs.
“Play ‘BLACK VELVET’!”
“That’s my old band, pal. You’re at the wrong rock show.”
Maybe next time he’ll try, “That’s my old band, cocksmoker.” That’ll get those
skinhead redneck hom ophobes riled-up for sure.
Just the other night, though, the culprits were right up in front, a couple o f chicks
w ith voices that could have cut through the din o f a M unich beer hall during Octoberfest.
Hank is notoriously “sensitive” to such loudmouths— male or female— and he isn’t
afraid to tell them so, w ith between-song rem arks like “Hey, shut your holes” or “You
guys got something you wanna share w ith the rest o f u s? ’ No Hank Pete solo acoustic
perform ance is com plete without a lecture or tw o from Hank to the audience. It’s partly a
370
schtick—people get a kick out o f it, it’s conflict, and conflict is entertaining— but he
means it to o . He honestly does. Sometimes fens are ju st plain rude.
So it’s 10 AM and so far Hank has finished o ff six cups o f coffee and read that he
is a heroin addict, a homosexual, a wifebeater, a m isanthrope, a feminist, a misogynist.
He is a devoted husband. He is sleeping around. His wife is sleeping around.
He reaches for his coffee and doesn’t find it. He ju st poured a cup, didn’t he? It’s
nowhere o n the table. He looks over at the counter, by the coffee maker, by the
refrigerator, the stove. Nada. Did he take it to the bathroom with him? He doesn’t think
so, but he’ll take a look ju st the same. It’stime for a smoke, anyway. He stands up and
gives M aya a friendly little poke in the belly.
“Be right back, Little Pooper,” he says.
She smiles and spits out the Cheerio she’s been w orking on.
The coffee isn’t in the bathroom, either. But there are matches, at least, a ja r full,
part o f Gail’s diminishing collection o f m atch books from all over the country, and the
world. He picks them up for her whenever he and the band are on tour. It pisses her o ff
that he uses them to light his butts, but he can’t help it. They’re always right there, and,
after all, they’re only paper and sulphur. There’ll be plenty m ore where those came from.
The upcoming tour is going to be his biggest yet. “Big” being a relative term , o f course.
Big for him. H e’ll be doing a week in Germany again, w ith a stop in Denmark. And
according to his manager, a show or two in London isn’t out o f the question. He is
working on a venue there, King Tut’s Wah-Wah Hut. Gail will have matches the likes o f
which she’s never seen. Hank closes the door and turns on the exhaust fen. Then he
closes the lid to the toilet, produces an unlit cigarette from behind his right ear, and takes
371
a seat. As he smokes he starts humming the time he started working on last night, after
getting a little stoned and inadvertantly spending an hour and a half browsing eBay.
Baby fat, baby fat

kitschy, ritzy vintage crap
beer can, oh man, eBay greed
bitmap, ball cap, Walkman,

shop, man
car lot, smoke pot
Abercrombie
Red head, D ead head

dirty earplugs in the bed
Pokemon, m ow the lawn
MP3z
D ot Corns, HomeRuns
AOL, My Intel
Yahoo, will you
hit me again
Baby fat, baby fat

I can’t lose m y baby fat
Talkin’ bout my baby
baby, pinch me some more
Definitely more Domestachistic than Sado-domestic.
Yes, it is all becoming quite clear.
Right now, the lyrics are innocuous, but after he does a little drinking o r forgets to
take his Zoloft, he’ll start to intersperse darker thoughts, com puter scribbling, endless
notebook scribbling, fragments o f lines and phrases, lots o f typing, “domestic despair,
’’“bitter isolation,” “ desperate love, ” “murder, ” “betrayal, ” “doubt. ” Remember that
song about the “Lighthouse in N ova Scotia”? H e bought this laptop com puter to write
with, to help organize his thoughts on the road. H e’d been typing like a m adm an for
weeks on end.— and then he’d discovered the internet.
372
Hank is looking for a fresh ja r o f Gerbers, hoping to get M aya fed before I, “that
w riter,” arrive around lunchtime. Gail shops like at fiend at B read & Circus. She
stockpiles the kitchen cupboards with all sorts o f weird healthy stuff. Bags and bottles
and canisters—half o f them still newly sealed. She’s into roots, fo r example: Siberian
Ginseng Root, American Ginseng Root, Chinese Astragulus R oot, Codonopsis Root, Fo
Ti Root, Ginger Root, Echinacea Root. B ut not only roots. There are other power
herbs in the cabinet. There is Ginko Biloba L eaf Extract, G otu Kola, Suma, and
Buplerium. There are Co-enzymes, bioflavonoids, digestive aids and detoxifiers: grape
seed extract, pine bark extract, rosemary extract, rosemary pow der. Royal Jelly.
Bromelain, Papain, and Milk Thistle. Spirulina and Hawaiian Blue Green Algae. Wheat
Grass, Barley Grass, Alfalfa Leaf, and Kale. And these are ju st the ones in pow der or
capsule form. When I arrive, the first thing H ank tells me is th at he refuses to put any o f
these things into his body, but th at he loves to pronounce them. Shattered W all
Chlorella.
“There have to be lyrics there somewhere,” he says.
The Hank Pete I used to know was vital, longhaired, punked out, raw — but the
man in front o f me now is none o f that. His hair is cut short, not shaved or shorn, just
conservatively short. He is visibly soft in the middle, and a bit chubby all around. He is
wearing baggy drawstring pants, a black v-neck sweatshirt w ith a white t-shirt
underneath, a pair o f black vans w ith white treads.
He is definitely still EDGY , though.
373
My first official question o f the interview concerns this “sado-domesticity” w e’ve
been hearing about. He is surprised at first. I have been online this morning as well.
He doesn’t know it, but I am also the one who coined the term in the first place. User
names can be deceptive. Anonymous.
He’s decided that he likes the term .
“Yeah, “ he says. “Domestachistic’s probably a little m ore accurate in term s o f
my lyrics... But I don’t know, Sado-Dom estic... it just SOUNDS better. W hen you think
about it, m ost long term relationships... one way or the o th e r... we tend to cause each
other a lot o f pain... and yet w e’re so afraid to let go that w e ju st keep coming back for
more. And we ‘convince’ ourselves... th at w e love and are loved, even in spite o f the
pain and abuse. But that is, after all, w hat love is. Isn’t it? A t least part o f what love
is? To stick around for the pain, which is inevitable, as well as the pleasure. I f you only
stick around for the pleasure, you’re not in love, you’re in lust. A lot o f people, including
my wife sometimes, seem to get awfully nervous about another person acknowledging
these things so openly. I mean, sure, I can say it, I cab say th at I hate my wife. But no
m ore than any husband does. O r any wife hates her husband, for that matter. It’s all part
o f the DNA o f love, so to speak. I don’t see w hat’s so controversial about this. It’s a
fucking cliche, for Christ’s sake. You can’t have one without the other. W hen we say
that we love someone, what we really m ean is that we love them more than we hate them.
Beause deep down we’ve got to hate them too. At least a little bit. There’s no friction
otherwise. Nothing to feed the... I don’t know ... the drive.
“So you’re saying then that your lyrics can, in fact, be accurately described as
sado-dom estic.”
374
“God, I usually fucking hate those kinds o f labels. But, I’ve got to admit, in this
particular case, I kind o f like it. The term . I wish I had thought o f it! And, really, I
mean, look at me. Look at my life these days. I’ve got a wife, a kid in pre-school. Now
I’ve got another kid. I own three goddam n Diaper Genies— one for each floor o f my
three-story house. I’ve got a backyard and a deck. I’ve got a George Forem an grill. One
o f those flat TV screens you can hang on your wall. I’ve got surround sound. My
favorite thing to do is stay home and read o r watch TV o r browse the internet. I’ve got a
goddamned ulcer, and hemmaroids to boot.
“H ow fast is it? ’
“W hat?’
“Y our connection. To the internet. How fast?’
“Oh. It’s okay, nothing special. A cable modem would put it to shame. But I’m
making do for now. My wife says that this 56K modem is the only thing betw een me and
a frontal lobotomy.
“So you spend a lot o f time online?’
‘I ’m thinking it’s ju st a phase. W ith the new com puter and all. B ut maybe it’s a
new addiction. I’ve never had this much attention! A fter looking at som e o f these fan
sites, I’m thinking, man, maybe we should all pack up and move to Scandinavia. They
love me there. I’m big in Denmark. Huge. The Swedes too. And the D utch—oh, Geez,
don’t get me started on the Dutch. The Norgwegians. I think the Germans like me too,
but weird things happen every time I go to Germany.”
“Who are your favorite authors?’
375
“I can’t say I really have a favorite. But I like Beckett a lot. Delillo. I read a lot
more un-fiction, I guess. Right now, actually, I’m reading Steal This Book.”
“Because o f the recent movie tie-in?”
“No. B ut I suppose that has a lo t to do w ith why I was able to find a copy in
print. You w ant to hear something incredibly sado-dom estic: I actually went dow n to
Tow er Records and BOUGHT a copy.”
“You didn’t steal it.”
“Even the clerk was like, ‘Dude, you’re not gonna try to steal it?’ But, I don’t
know, to me it’s kind o f like: what w ould be the point, anyway? Tim es have changed.
Abbie Hoffinan’s dead. His book’s become a feature film. With a soundtrack and
everything. I think it’s cool and everything. But I ’m not an anarchist anymore. I ’m just
a really depressed guy who wants to stay home and w rite about it.”
376
You didn’t w ant me

w hen I really w anted you want me,
and if you’re gonna miss me,
Y ou must be pretty lonely.
-H ank Pete, “Unwanted Man”
WORKS CITED
Aizlewood, John. Love is the D rue: Living as a Pop Fan. New York: Penguin, 1994.
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reprinted in M artin Priestman, Detective Fiction and Literature: The Figure On
the Carpet: N ew York: St. M artins Press, 1991, p.20.
Bane, Michael. The Outlaws: Revolution in Country M usic. Doubleday/Dolphin,

1978.
Bresler, Fenton. W ho Killed John Lennon? New Y ork: St. Martin’s Press, 1989.
Brown, Norman O. Love’s Body (p.162) in Helen Lock, A Case o f Mistaken Identity:
Detective Undercurrents in Recent African Am erican Fiction. Peter Lang
Publishing: N ew York, NY, 1994.
Calvino, Italo. Six M emos for the N ext Millennium. N ew York: Vintage, 1988.
Cambridge Dictionary o f Philosophy, ed. Robert A udi. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge

University Press, 1995. p. 318.
Cassell, Chuck. The Last o f the Red H ot Burritos (liner notes). A & M Records, 1972.
Cortazar, Julio. Hopscotch. New York: Random H ouse, 1966.
Delillo, Don. G reat Jones Street. N ew York: V intage, 1973.
Derrida, Jacques. Archive Fever: A Freudian Im pression. Chicago: University o f

Chicago Press, 1995.
Eisenberg, Evan. The Recording Angel. New Y ork: Penguin, 1987.
Gelpke, Rudolf (ed.). The Storv o f Lavla and M ajnun bv Nizami. N ew Lebanon, NY:
Omega Publications, 1997.
Grabes, H. Fictitious Biographies: Vladimir N abokov’s English N ovels. Paris: M outon,

1977.
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Goldman, Albert. The Lives o f John Lennon. N ew York: William M orrow & Company,
1988.
Griffin, Sid. Gram Parsons: a M usic Biography. Pasadena, CA: Sierra Books, 1985.
Henley, John. “The True Story o f Bongo Fury, 21 May 1975.”

http://www.teleport.com /~rouse/fe/tales/75 05 21 ih.html. 1998.
Heylin, Clinton. B ootleg: The Secret History o f th e Other Recording Industry. N ew

York: St. M artin’s, 1995.
Humpheries, Jefferson. The Red and the Black: Mimetic D esire and the Mvth o f
Celebrity. Boston: G.K. H all & Company, 1991.
Kaufman, Phil (w / Colin White). R oad Mangier Deluxe. Glendale, CA: White Boucke,
1993.
Lawrence, Elizabeth. Rodeo: An A nthropologist Looks at the W ild and the Tame.
Chicago: University o f Chicago Press, 1982.
Levine, Mark L., et al. The Tales o f Hoffman. N ew York: Bantam Books, 1970. xxiv.
Menconi, David Lawrence. Music. M edia, and the M etropolis: The Case o f Austin’s
Armadillo W orld Headquarters. M.A. Thesis: University o f Texas at Austin,
August 1985. p. 106.
Nolan, A.M. R ock ‘N ’ Roll Road T rip. New Y ork: Pharos B ooks, 1992.
Priestman, M artin. Detective Fiction and Literature: The Figure on the Carpet. N ew
York: St. M artin’s Press, 1991.
Reid, Jan. The Improbable Rise o f Redneck R ock. New York: DeCapo Books, 1977.
Scholes, Robert, N ancy R Comley, & Gregory L. Ulmer. Text Book: An Introduction
to Literary Language. N ew York: St. M artin’s, 1995.
Shank, Barry. Dissonant Identities: The Rock ‘n ’ Roll Scene in Austin. Texas. N ew
England: Weslyan University Press, 1994.
Spitzer, Nick. Telephone Interview. Monday, M ay 10, 1999.

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INFORMATION TO USERS

The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the

Oversize materials (e.g., m aps, drawings, charts) are reproduced by

Photographs included in the original manuscript have been reproduced

ProQuest Information and Learning

This reproduction is the best copy available.

Christopher Scott Gleason

A dissertation submitted to the faculty o f

The University o f Utah

Bell & Howell Information and Learning Company

All Rights Reserved

SUPERVISORY COMMITTEE APPROVAL

FINAL READING APPROVAL

To the Graduate Council of the University of Utah:

Approved for the Major Department

Approved for the Graduate Council

the written subject.

Pete, whose underground celebrity as a “progressive country” musician in Austin was on

compelled, eventually, to commit suicide.” Pseudocide, anyway.

HANK PETE: A FRAGILE FAMILY TREE............................................................... 1

AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF COSMIC AMERICAN M USIC..................................... 28

IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY...................................................................365

WORKS C IT E D ................................................................................................................ 377

Thanks to all o f the members o f my Supervisory Committee: David Kranes

and Tom Yokishima.

my sister, Jodi—for their incredible patience, love, and support.

Henry Peterson Fandy Marvin Timmy PeHier Cameron Keyes

rienr| Peterson Ducky Phillips Timmy Peltier £ameron Keye6

1 Henry 'Peterson changed his name to Hank P ete

hank ?ere & rrte veOtOa sut£tpes

Hank Pete Timmy Peltier Tea n-P au l 6«eorge

Beatle John Lennon Slain

Finger Points to Foul Play

Finger Points to Foul Play

So I’ve rented an air-conditioned trailer instead, on a dirt alley running parallel to

itHow<fy\n I heard him say, in a shout that he postured like a whisper.

“You still sleeping?” he said.

“What’s the matter, Reese...”

“Hold on a minute,” I said. “I ’ll be right out.”

Reese how cool it w as to be able to download MP3s o ff the internet.

up to your front door.”

He’s a real Hunter Thompson-type. A Hippie redneck card-carrying NRA member.

Peyote and guns, that sort o f thing.

been by the little trail o f splinters he leaves in his wake.

suicide—and a kind o f homicide as well. The suicide o f autobiograpy. The homicide o f

(re)writing another’s life—and my own. What follows was originally intended to be a

obsession, and indecision. It is most certainly a w ork o f nostalgia—a relentless study o f

simply memories o f death. Nagging little memories o f death. So trivial, so artificial,

and such music to my eyes and ears.

Dead Y o a ig Cowboy Reported M iaaaj

Dead Young Cowboy Reported Missing—

-Oxford English Dictionary

—Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever-. A Freudian Impression, p.7

Livingstone, William. “Piracy in the Recording Industry— Interested Parties Have

Anonymous. “Gram Parsons—Burrito Ego Man.” M elody Maker. July 20,1975.

French, Phillip. “Performance.” Sight and Sound—International Film Ouaterly. Spring

Anonymous- “A Musical Community Grows in Austin.” Billboard. August, 19, 1972,

Anonymous. “Parsons Knows.” M elody Maker. April 7, 1973.

Bate, Michael (sic). “Gram Parsons.” Zoo World. July 5, 1973.

Ward, Ed. “Bootleg Blues.” H arper’s M onthly. January 1974.

Anonymous. “Country Parsons.” M elody Maker. July 27, 1974.

Anonymous. “Groover’s Paradise.” Time. September 9, 1974.

Young, Art. Interview with Rusty Weir, KRMH-FM, November 8, 1974.