Photo: Django Reinhardt, a prime source of musical inspiration.
Music is your only friend until the end.
– Jim Morrison
I guess what Jim was saying is that no matter how exasperating life gets, music will always be there for you – it soothes the savage breast!
The Doobie Brothers told us to “Listen to the music… all the time,” and Carole King had it right when she sang: “You’ve got a friend.” (Until the end.)
Everybody plays music… whether you play it on your stereo, your radio or even your family’s old baby grand.
But performing music is a horse of a different color.
I had taken piano lessons from my Aunt Maneeta. She was a church organist and had studied at Julliard. At her home, she had a piano in the front and an upright organ in the rear. She was very talented.
My first performances were piano recitals. “Look, Mom. I’m a musician!” Hardly. It takes a lot of work, determination and dedication to master your instrument(s) and learn to be, not only a good musician, but a good entertainer – and it’s gotta be from the heart.
You need big ears, a decent voice, and you need to learn how to interact with your bandmates, and the audience; and you’re gonna need a lot of luck.
Most important: you need special people to help you along the way…
Wild Wind Rose
In the early summer of 1974, I met Alan Heckle and Jay Cober. There are different versions of how we met, but it seems that Alan approached me at the Melody Shop at Inwood and Lovers Lane. The guy was extremely friendly and was the spitting image of Dwayne Allman. Whether or not I met Jay at the same time is up for debate. Who knows? Our collective memories are a bit skewed after 52 years. (I guess our kind of music required helmets.)
Jay had met Alan in North Carolina where Alan resided and Jay was in the army at Fort Bragg. Their connection was music, and the two of them played guitars off of one another. So began a lifelong friendship. Soon I was added to that time-honored brotherhood.
It wasn’t long before they told me they wanted to replace the drummer in their band, Wild Wind Rose. I suppose they’d heard rumors that I was a pretty good drummer. (The Melody Shop was headquarters for gossip and tall tales.) They basically hired me without hearing me. Later I was instructed to haul my drums over to the Silver Eagle Mining Company on Inwood Road for set-up. This wasn’t wild wind, this was whirlwind!
When I arrived at the Silver Eagle with my drums, I soon found out that there were drums already set up on the stage over the bar. You heard that right. To get to the stage one had to climb the stairs to the upper bar level, then walk a scary gangplank over to the actual stage! One thing for certain: this “drinking establishment” was unique; and somewhat dangerous…
Alan and Jay approached me and explained that they had decided to have double drummers, just like the Allman Brothers. I told them that I wasn’t interested in that idea, that I played alone. As it turned out, my new friends were really sweet guys and simply did not have the heart to fire their drummer… so they asked me to do the dirty work. Yep. My first assignment was to fire the old drummer. And, so it was.
The band consisted of front man/singer Dee Dwayne who closed each night’s performance singing “Good Night, Irene” and the crowds sang along. (A nice touch!) On bass was Steve Locke, a terrific player, and of course, Alan and Jay on dueling and harmonizing guitars, and me on drums (by myself).
Dee was a handsome guy in his thirties and the women loved him. But soon Alan and Jay informed me that Dee had to go. I really didn’t understand their reasoning, seeing that Dee was quite a draw. But he was history. Then I realized my boys’ plan: they were turning Wild Wind Rose into a high-powered Southern Rock band. And we actually increased our fan base.
Soon we were rehearsing new material and arranging it extensively, and we created medleys with fancy intervals between songs. It was exciting and even magical. And all the while I was learning… and actually contributing.
Cumberland County
We changed the band name to Cumberland County. (As it turned out, an interim band). We were looking for a keyboard player. I suggested my Mother Trucker piano man, Royce Reed, and he was hired.
Suddenly we had a fuller sound, rich padding and rhythm under the double guitar leads. We played the same clubs, including Boogers. (Would you tell a first date that you’re taking her to Boogers? What is that? Somebody’s name? No, it’s not.)
Django
The metamorphosis of the band was incredible. We made a major change by hiring a killer bass player named Artis Johnson, and a great Hammond M3 player named Danny Ross.
Our new and final name was ‘Django’, named after guitar legend Django Reinhardt. The music was expanding to include Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Elvin Bishop and others. Now we were playing major Dallas clubs such as Gertie’s on Lemmon Avenue and warming up for acts including Miss Ruby Star, Nitzinger, Bertha, etc. We did a little road work including Nacogdoches, in East Texas, for two weeks of great music and fun.
On Sundays, Alan, Jay and I would venture to North Dallas to a club called Sailors – home to the hottest jazz band in Dallas. The group consisted of master guitarist, Lee Robinson; pianist, Freddie Crane; Kerby Stewart on upright bass; Peyton Park on tenor sax; and the one-and-only, Jimmy Zitano – aka JZ – on drums. Sundays at the Sailor were like breathtaking jazz clinics, and we would all walk out on Cloud 9. Although we didn’t perform jazz, it certainly inspired us.
All the while we were coached and nurtured by Alan’s first mentor in Dallas, Charlie Wirz, owner of the fabulous Charlie’s Guitar Shop. If you were in with Charlie, you were breathing rarified air indeed. Rising stars often sat in with us such as Smokin’ Joe Kubek; members of Point Blank; and more.
Jay Boy Adams
It was February,1975, when Alan and I were contracted by Bill Hamm (ZZ Top’s manager) to do a concert tour as members in Jay Boy Adams’ band. It was to be a promotional tour featuring Jay Boy and up-and-coming powerhouse, Point Blank. It was ‘equal billing.’ That is, when artists or bands are presented equally.
Alan and I drove up to a ranch house west of Lake Dallas where we met our new bandmates: singer/songwriter Jay Boy Adams, former ‘Bugs Henderson’ bass player Kenny Matthews, and Ron Mason on Hammond B3 organ. Ron’s lovely parents welcomed us to their home where we rehearsed the concert set the next few days. Luckily, we clicked.
Our first concert was in Dallas. Bill Hamm would be traveling with us, along with several of ZZ Top’s roadies and one of their tractor trailers. (Wow. What an absolute thrill.) Then we played College Station, San Antonio and on to the largest venue of the tour, the big Ritz Theater in Corpus Christi. Our last show was in Austin at the Ritz Theater on 6th Street.
The crowds were large and loud. It was the most fun I’d ever had with my clothes on! But after two weeks, it was all over. We hadn’t made a lot of cash, but Alan and I had been given an in-depth glimpse of what the “big time” was all about. (I could go on, and on… but I won’t.)
The one big “take-away” from the tour was Ron Mason – literally. Our organist, Danny, had gone back to school, so Ron joined Django in a New York minute. Our first gig with Ron was at Gerties to a packed house. It was as if the energy from the tour had been reignited. This was gonna be something that Alan could write home to Mom about.
Audio: from a performance of ‘Hot ‘Lanta’ recorded live at Gertie’s…
Ron Mason eventually set up his recording studio, Firehouse, not too far from Parkland Hospital. It was a great place to record, rehearse, party, crash and, as an extra perk, there was a terrific Tex-Mex joint close by that we could crawl to (if necessary). And when Alan, Jay, Ron and I got together for “work sessions” we entered into a celestial realm where creativity reigned. We seemed to be on another plane, learning how to develop ideas into actual songs, playing them and then recording them. Some of these old work tapes are still in existence. Those were very spiritual times that we shared, and I’m a better person to have experienced those intimate moments with my brothers.
Django played on. Then in June of 1975, Jay decided it was time for him to go back to school. He eventually got his CPA, but never gave up on music. Years later he and I would get together and gig once again, having never lost a beat. At present, Jay is still gigging in Dallas with excellent bands – the last man standing. More power to you, brother.
We hired the singer from the band Uncle Rainbow. His name was Richard Oates, and the boy had a voice that was world class. Besides being a formidable force on stage, Richard was a pure delight to be around. Finally, Django had a true frontman. We had a hell of a band – but nothing lasts forever.
One night at Gertie’s, my left ear suddenly quit working. The stage volume at my kit was deafening. Luckily my hearing returned the next day, but, sadly, my days in the band were numbered; I had decided to go to college on the GI Bill. Some said I needed an edumacation. Really? I played on until that fall.
The last gig I remember playing with Django was a three-niter at a joint on Northwest highway near Abrams Road. It just so happened that Friday was “Nickel Night.” That’s right. One nickel got you a red plastic cup of cold beer! And the cost-conscious beer lover could drink as many as he or she so desired. The keg was full of cheap Old Milwaukee, so the management probably thought that people weren’t going to drink that much. They did.
My old buddy Dale McFarland dropped by to listen to the show that night. We were in good form and it sounded great. Everyone seemed to really, really love the music… or maybe it was the goddamn beer?
After the last set I noticed that Dale was a little wobbly. My brother Ross and a few of his friends had decided to move the party down to nearby White Rock Lake. I insisted that Dale go with me, so I poured him into my station wagon and followed my brother to the lake.
It was a lovely night with a big moon illuminating the clear sky. I thought how much I loved music and how lucky I was to play with my good friends. About that time, Dale ran to the shore and started upchucking Old Milwaukee.
I went to help him out and he looked up at me and said, “I don’t know what happened. I only drank a dollar’s worth.”
DC has been a frustrated musician for over fifty years, and now has decided to become a frustrated writer. Learn more at DCDuncan.com. He’ll keep you posted.