Stan Hitchcock's
"HEART TO HEART" remembers............
Favorite Songs,
Good Friends,
Old guitars,
Special Loves,
Lonely times when the music got you through,
Applause that told you that they really cared,
Silence that told you when they didn’t.
The Road that went on forever,
Missing it when it finally stopped.
(some short thoughts and memories to share)
THE ROAD
In the early years, when Country was still young and inventing itself so folks like Garth could come along later and make a gajillion bucks filling up Central Park, Loretta was fresh out of Butcher Holler, Waylon was still skinny, Willie wore ties and had short hair, the DJ Convention was still at the Andrew Jackson Hotel, or The Hermitage Hotel, the Opry was still at the Ryman and the skies were not cloudy all day...... touring on the ROAD was a whole different life. Touring artists spent most of their money on the musicians that would make up their particular band.....and there was a darn good reason for this....traveling the Country working with house bands, different local bands at each gig, was just torture.
I remember one particular tour I made for a promoter in North Carolina....he had booked a series of 7 or 8 small town high school auditoriums and he booked me as the headliner for his show with the understanding that he would furnish the band for the whole tour and that I could come in a day early and rehearse and get the show down real good. Well, I got there a day early all right and the promoter took me to the local high school gym to rehearse with the "alleged" band. This was the mid-sixties and my television show was pretty hot in the area, plus the local stations were all playing my records to promote the show. We got to the gym and I got to meet the band......l rhythm guitar player (who had no rhythm, and very few chords) 1 acoustic (dog house) bass holder, 1 claw hammer banjo player (who hated country music and only wanted to play real bluegrass music) and 1 kid about 13 who owned a snare drum. The leader of theband (the un-rhythm guitar player) stared at me impassively when I asked him if the band had practiced on my songs from the tape I had mailed earlier. He kinda grunted, scratched himself a couple of times, run his finger in his ear to dig at some unknown substance....and said, "Whydoan ya run em fer us?" I starting to wonder what the penalty was in North Carolina for beating promoters to a bloody mess with the business end of a Gibson guitar....but, no, let’s try to be professional here, these guys don’t look like much but they can probably really play the fire out of these instruments....ok, here’s the songs guys....I started singing some of my records and showing the chords on my guitar. Four pair of eyes were staring at me like a tree full of owls, and I noticed that the drummer had took off his shoes and socks and was picking his toes....and not in tempo either! Finally, after I had exhausted myself, singing and playing extra loud to try to get through the solid wall of dumb....the leader of the (alleged) band held up his hand for me to stop, and said the classic pick-up, local band logic......"Chief, yer songs are real purty and all.....but all them chord changes are making the boys in the band nervous.....could you just do a whole show of singing Hank Williams songs? We know pert near all of his’n"
For the next seven nights of little country town auditoriums....I would work for an hour, singing my records, just me and my guitar, while the boys in the band stood, like statues, in a row right behind me, never playing a lick until, at the end of my show, I would close with a Hank Williams song which they would play with such enthusiasm that it sounded like we had actually planned this Grand Finale. Show Business is a beautiful
thing.
At the end of the tour I went to find the Promotor and get paid for this week of torture and just missed him by about 30 minutes.....in the middle of the Grand Finale...he decided to take the loot and scoot...he headed out the backdoor of the auditorium so fast that the whirlwind of his exit almost woke up the drummer.........so somewhere out there is a Country Music Promotor who still owes me for the worst tour I ever enjoyed.....and a drummer who still picks his toes out of tempo!
Country Music didn’t come in on the lastest music video, or the newest kid wearing a cowboy hat.....it came in at the sweat, tears and love that existed between the ‘billies and the fans. As it should be.
I remember one particular tour I made for a promoter in North Carolina....he had booked a series of 7 or 8 small town high school auditoriums and he booked me as the headliner for his show with the understanding that he would furnish the band for the whole tour and that I could come in a day early and rehearse and get the show down real good. Well, I got there a day early all right and the promoter took me to the local high school gym to rehearse with the "alleged" band. This was the mid-sixties and my television show was pretty hot in the area, plus the local stations were all playing my records to promote the show. We got to the gym and I got to meet the band......l rhythm guitar player (who had no rhythm, and very few chords) 1 acoustic (dog house) bass holder, 1 claw hammer banjo player (who hated country music and only wanted to play real bluegrass music) and 1 kid about 13 who owned a snare drum. The leader of theband (the un-rhythm guitar player) stared at me impassively when I asked him if the band had practiced on my songs from the tape I had mailed earlier. He kinda grunted, scratched himself a couple of times, run his finger in his ear to dig at some unknown substance....and said, "Whydoan ya run em fer us?" I starting to wonder what the penalty was in North Carolina for beating promoters to a bloody mess with the business end of a Gibson guitar....but, no, let’s try to be professional here, these guys don’t look like much but they can probably really play the fire out of these instruments....ok, here’s the songs guys....I started singing some of my records and showing the chords on my guitar. Four pair of eyes were staring at me like a tree full of owls, and I noticed that the drummer had took off his shoes and socks and was picking his toes....and not in tempo either! Finally, after I had exhausted myself, singing and playing extra loud to try to get through the solid wall of dumb....the leader of the (alleged) band held up his hand for me to stop, and said the classic pick-up, local band logic......"Chief, yer songs are real purty and all.....but all them chord changes are making the boys in the band nervous.....could you just do a whole show of singing Hank Williams songs? We know pert near all of his’n"
