| Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 2, 2023 |
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A memoir of Willie Nelson
Willie Nelson, Outlaw
by Terry Broxson
Welcome to my story about Willie Nelson. He recently turned ninety.
"Hello, walls. How'd things go for you today?" The opening line of "Hello Walls," the first hit song Willie wrote. Faron Young, an established country singer, had recorded the song. Willie, dead broke at the time, offered to sell the music rights to Faron for $500. Faron turned him down; instead, he loaned him the money.
Willie's royalty check for writing the song—$20,000 in 1961.
My mother loved country music, but she only liked male singers. Her favorites were Bill Anderson and Jim Reeves.
In 1959, I became a teenager, so rock & roll became my thing, not country. I had a great mother. She bought me a record player and a radio. This allowed me to hear my music. Although, she would listen if a guy belted out a catchy song or ballad.
Truth be told, a forty-year-old mother of two boys, the secretary and choir member of the Bellview Baptist Church, taught her sons how to do the twist along with Chubby Checker. My little brother was eleven; good thing the preacher never found out.
The first time I got interested in country music and bought an album became a watershed moment when Ray Charles recorded Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, in 1961.
The metamorphosis of rock and roll music to acid, psychedelic, and then heavy metal didn't appeal to me. I thought the "New" country music had become rock and roll. At least I liked it better.
George Jones, Roger Miller, Marty Robbins, and former rockers Jerry Lee Lewis and Conway Twitty filled the music gap until the Outlaws took center stage.
Willie, Waylon, Kris, and the boys left Nashville and headed to Texas. Music became soulful, toe-tapping, beer-drinking fun.
Willie brought his friends and his famous D-20 Martin guitar, Trigger, named after Roy Rogers's horse, back to Texas, where he had been born and raised. Willie wore the title Outlaw willingly.
Willie's title did have more than one meaning. Sure, he leads a group of country musicians from Nashville to Texas. His rebellion on how the music business worked to make records and pay performers changed the dynamics of the industry. Artists began to have control over the finished product.
But there were others in the field of law enforcement keeping an eye on Willie for his habit of smoking marijuana. Willie not only liked it but also preached, wrote, and sang about it..."Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die."
Connoisseurs can find Willie's Reserve, assuming it's legal in your state. But don't look for it in Texas...we ain't enlightened yet.
The IRS got after him. Willie owed several million dollars in back taxes. They took all they could, even his country club golf course. Busted, he decided to record an album dedicated to paying off his IRS bills—it worked. Not even the government could keep the Outlaw down for long.
In 1975, Willie recorded one of the most iconic albums of all time—The Red-Headed Stanger. He took some old songs written by others and added some new material. The recording session happened in a small studio in Garland, Texas. Willie and his "Family" made the music; included were his sister Bobby on the piano, Paul English on drums, Mickey Raphel playing harmonica, and Jody Payne on guitar and mandolin.
Music experts considered this breaking new ground as a concept album telling a story about a red-headed stranger. Willie managed the entire process the way he wanted, putting the Outlaw firmly in charge.
The Red-Headed Stanger album sold over two million copies. One of the songs, "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain," written by Fred Rose, became Willie's first number-one song.
Billboard Magazine has the album as 183 of the top 500 albums ever produced, and CMT rates it the number one country album of all time.
Hollywood made a movie based on the album starring who else but the Outlaw himself.
My connection to Willie up to this point had been pretty tangential. But then it did start to get a little personal. I am, after all, a red-headed Texan. Okay, I did have hair with a lovely shade of red. Whenever anyone talked to me on the CB radio in the '70s, they talked to the Red-Headed Stranger.
My Grandmother Bessie called her long-time boyfriend and eventual husband Blue Eyes. When Blue Eyes died, we played Willie's song. I wonder how many other funerals have played the song.
On September 20, 1976, my wife Zoe, long-time friend Carl Trusler, and I went to see Willie and Family at the Sportatorium in Dallas, Texas. The cost of the tickets set us back twenty-four bucks for all three.
The Sportatorium opened near downtown Dallas in 1934. Located in an industrial warehouse area, it looked like a large octagonal barn that held almost five thousand people. Its claim to fame as a venue was wrestling. It also served as the home of the Big D Jamboree from 1948 to 1966. The Jamboree tried to compete with the Lousiana Hay Ride and the Grand Ole Opry.
Picture in your mind about five thousand Texas music fans who had no doubt started drinking alcohol in the afternoon, crowding into this old barn-like structure without air conditioning at six pm for rocking country music. Ray Wilie Hubbard opened the show at seven.
The concession stands sold beer and nachos.
Zoe, Carl, and I took turns making beer runs. Our seats were about three rows from the top of the arena and had a great view. The seats were not really seats; the Sportatorium only had rickety old beer-soaked bleachers. But sitting down didn't come into play because everybody stood. Oh, to be thirty again.
Willie took the stage at eight o'clock. The house lights dimmed the spotlight shined through a smokey haze on the Outlaw. His opening song, "Whiskey River," got the crowd going immediately. Everyone had a rip-roaring good time clapping, singing, and drinking.
The audience members passed their hats to Willie, which he wore briefly until the next one arrived. The fans also shared whatever they were drinking with Willie.
At 11:30, Zoe, Carl, and I left with about twenty others. We could still hear the music from the arena as we drove our car away. Four thousand nine hundred and eighty were still partying as midnight approached. Willie had been playing for four hours.
Carl said, "I am glad we left, and as much fun as I had, I did get concerned."
I asked, "What bothered you?"
"The big guy next to me started smoking grass. I thought he might offer me some, him being big and all; I didn't want to turn him down, but I'm a Navy Flight Surgeon; I could get in all kinds of trouble."
Zoe looked at Carl. "So, you were disappointed he didn't offer you any?"
"Yep."
None of us had any disappointment with the music. The Outlaw ruled.
Welcome to my story about Willie Nelson. He recently turned ninety.
"Hello, walls. How'd things go for you today?" The opening line of "Hello Walls," the first hit song Willie wrote. Faron Young, an established country singer, had recorded the song. Willie, dead broke at the time, offered to sell the music rights to Faron for $500. Faron turned him down; instead, he loaned him the money.
Willie's royalty check for writing the song—$20,000 in 1961.
My mother loved country music, but she only liked male singers. Her favorites were Bill Anderson and Jim Reeves.
In 1959, I became a teenager, so rock & roll became my thing, not country. I had a great mother. She bought me a record player and a radio. This allowed me to hear my music. Although, she would listen if a guy belted out a catchy song or ballad.
Truth be told, a forty-year-old mother of two boys, the secretary and choir member of the Bellview Baptist Church, taught her sons how to do the twist along with Chubby Checker. My little brother was eleven; good thing the preacher never found out.
The first time I got interested in country music and bought an album became a watershed moment when Ray Charles recorded Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, in 1961.
The metamorphosis of rock and roll music to acid, psychedelic, and then heavy metal didn't appeal to me. I thought the "New" country music had become rock and roll. At least I liked it better.
George Jones, Roger Miller, Marty Robbins, and former rockers Jerry Lee Lewis and Conway Twitty filled the music gap until the Outlaws took center stage.
Willie, Waylon, Kris, and the boys left Nashville and headed to Texas. Music became soulful, toe-tapping, beer-drinking fun.
Willie brought his friends and his famous D-20 Martin guitar, Trigger, named after Roy Rogers's horse, back to Texas, where he had been born and raised. Willie wore the title Outlaw willingly.
Willie's title did have more than one meaning. Sure, he leads a group of country musicians from Nashville to Texas. His rebellion on how the music business worked to make records and pay performers changed the dynamics of the industry. Artists began to have control over the finished product.
But there were others in the field of law enforcement keeping an eye on Willie for his habit of smoking marijuana. Willie not only liked it but also preached, wrote, and sang about it..."Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die."
Connoisseurs can find Willie's Reserve, assuming it's legal in your state. But don't look for it in Texas...we ain't enlightened yet.
The IRS got after him. Willie owed several million dollars in back taxes. They took all they could, even his country club golf course. Busted, he decided to record an album dedicated to paying off his IRS bills—it worked. Not even the government could keep the Outlaw down for long.
In 1975, Willie recorded one of the most iconic albums of all time—The Red-Headed Stanger. He took some old songs written by others and added some new material. The recording session happened in a small studio in Garland, Texas. Willie and his "Family" made the music; included were his sister Bobby on the piano, Paul English on drums, Mickey Raphel playing harmonica, and Jody Payne on guitar and mandolin.
Music experts considered this breaking new ground as a concept album telling a story about a red-headed stranger. Willie managed the entire process the way he wanted, putting the Outlaw firmly in charge.
The Red-Headed Stanger album sold over two million copies. One of the songs, "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain," written by Fred Rose, became Willie's first number-one song.
Billboard Magazine has the album as 183 of the top 500 albums ever produced, and CMT rates it the number one country album of all time.
Hollywood made a movie based on the album starring who else but the Outlaw himself.
My connection to Willie up to this point had been pretty tangential. But then it did start to get a little personal. I am, after all, a red-headed Texan. Okay, I did have hair with a lovely shade of red. Whenever anyone talked to me on the CB radio in the '70s, they talked to the Red-Headed Stranger.
My Grandmother Bessie called her long-time boyfriend and eventual husband Blue Eyes. When Blue Eyes died, we played Willie's song. I wonder how many other funerals have played the song.
On September 20, 1976, my wife Zoe, long-time friend Carl Trusler, and I went to see Willie and Family at the Sportatorium in Dallas, Texas. The cost of the tickets set us back twenty-four bucks for all three.
The Sportatorium opened near downtown Dallas in 1934. Located in an industrial warehouse area, it looked like a large octagonal barn that held almost five thousand people. Its claim to fame as a venue was wrestling. It also served as the home of the Big D Jamboree from 1948 to 1966. The Jamboree tried to compete with the Lousiana Hay Ride and the Grand Ole Opry.
Picture in your mind about five thousand Texas music fans who had no doubt started drinking alcohol in the afternoon, crowding into this old barn-like structure without air conditioning at six pm for rocking country music. Ray Wilie Hubbard opened the show at seven.
The concession stands sold beer and nachos.
Zoe, Carl, and I took turns making beer runs. Our seats were about three rows from the top of the arena and had a great view. The seats were not really seats; the Sportatorium only had rickety old beer-soaked bleachers. But sitting down didn't come into play because everybody stood. Oh, to be thirty again.
Willie took the stage at eight o'clock. The house lights dimmed the spotlight shined through a smokey haze on the Outlaw. His opening song, "Whiskey River," got the crowd going immediately. Everyone had a rip-roaring good time clapping, singing, and drinking.
The audience members passed their hats to Willie, which he wore briefly until the next one arrived. The fans also shared whatever they were drinking with Willie.
At 11:30, Zoe, Carl, and I left with about twenty others. We could still hear the music from the arena as we drove our car away. Four thousand nine hundred and eighty were still partying as midnight approached. Willie had been playing for four hours.
Carl said, "I am glad we left, and as much fun as I had, I did get concerned."
I asked, "What bothered you?"
"The big guy next to me started smoking grass. I thought he might offer me some, him being big and all; I didn't want to turn him down, but I'm a Navy Flight Surgeon; I could get in all kinds of trouble."
Zoe looked at Carl. "So, you were disappointed he didn't offer you any?"
"Yep."
None of us had any disappointment with the music. The Outlaw ruled.
 Recognized |
|
CMT is Country Music Television
IRS is Internal Revenue Service, the tax collector for the United States Federal Government.
Currently, ten states and the District of Columbia allow Marijuana for recreational and medical purposes.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. IRS is Internal Revenue Service, the tax collector for the United States Federal Government.
Currently, ten states and the District of Columbia allow Marijuana for recreational and medical purposes.
Artwork by MKFlood at FanArtReview.com
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