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CONTENTS:
Cement City
Do You Want To Hear Me Sing?
Back To “Big D
The Chipango Club & The Artist Club&;
The Dance “Push
My 50’s Dream Job
Lucas B& B
The Joint…The It’ll Do, Jimm’s Club, Guthries Club, Ruby
Vegas Club and More
The Airways
Hot Music and Music Makers
Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette)
Luxury Living ‘50’s My Little Green Car….The Roommate…The Benefactress
The Observer…The Star….The Kid
Love In All It’s Glory
The Bachelor
Then and Now
CEMENT CITY
Even though I was not a native-born Dallasite, I was no stranger to Dallas, having lived in a small community that was located a few miles west of downtown. My daddy had moved the family from East Texas in 1940 and found work with Lone Star Cement Plant. Housing was furnished to some employees and these houses located within the compound of the plant made up most of the appropriately named Cement City. We lived in one such small four room (plus bath) house that sat on a nice large corner lot at the end of Lone Star Street. This was my home until the summer of 1950 when Daddy moved us back to East Texas. My thirteen-year-old heart was broken having to leave the only home I could really ever remember.
It has been
over sixty years but I can still hear the bang of the screen door as it slams
with a hearty bounce against the back door frame…I hear momma calling through
the window above the kitchen sink, a very familiar warning, “Stop slamming the
screen door; its going to fall off the hinges”!
As my seven-year-old
grubby bare feet picked up speed, I grew closer to Johnny Canorty’s store; I
could already taste the ice-cold Grapette soda pop that the empty bottle and
nickel would purchase. I certainly did
not have time to think about screen doors and hinges.
Located on
the corner across the sidewalk from my house there was this merry-go-round
looking contraption with four tiers. This was where all residents placed a
mailbox. Fortunately, there was just enough room between the boxes to place two
sun baked bare feet. All the neighborhood kids loved to run (with as much speed
as we could muster) round and round until we could jump on holding to the metal
bars. It was good if you could get two or three really fast rounds.
The company
whistle would sound at
Our community
was located at the foot of
During the ‘40’s,
Christmas in downtown
Music was
always a BIG part of my existence. My
older sister (14 years my senior) and brother, (nine years my senior) kept the
one radio in the house blaring with either, Glen Miller, The Dorsey Brothers,
Harry James, Dinah Shore, The Andrew Sisters, All the big bands and crooners. On the other hand, my brother fought for his favorites: Hank Williams,
Ernest Tubb, Hank Snow, and the stable of the REAL hillbilly greats. At six years old, I could sing word, by word
just about any song you wanted me to sing. Now that’s not to say I could really
sing, but I could nail the words. Of course, as far as I knew, I was a real
little songbird and would perform at any time, anywhere, invited or not. I was not above asking, “Do you want to hear
me sing”.
For
example; being a student at
Anyway, she
would at times ask if anyone would like to recite a poem, tell about his or her
pet or even sing a little song. Now the
little poems and song I am quite sure were to be nursery rhymes or songs such as
“Jesus loves me” or at the least, “You Are My Sunshine”. You understand
something nice. Let me first explain
something very important. I did not know
when a song was nice or naughty; I just knew what sounded good to me. Sooooo,
when I finally got my chance for the spot light, I raised my hand, stood up and
as loud as I was capable, belted out; “I’ve got a feeling called the
blueeeeees oh Lord, since my baby said goodbye”. Then zap
on the top of my head: The ruler got me.
With eyes bugged out, the appropriately named Mrs. Golightly asks me to please
make another selection. Sooooo… “I want to get you on a slow boat to
I
had three dreams for when I grew up:
1) Buy
a nice shinny new girls bike with a basket and bell on the handlebars. It
seemed as if every kid in the neighborhood had a bike but me. Of course, in truth, there were only one or
two because of the war, but my girlfriend across the street got one for
Christmas and I spent many afternoons sitting on my front steps looking across
the street admiring and yearning for her Christmas gift. She kept it on the front porch parked
directly under her window.
2) I wanted to go dancing at Pappy’s Showland and the Sky View Club which were located about two miles going east on West Commerce from Cement City. My older sister and her date would go dance to the big bands of the 40’s in these clubs. I would watch her get all dolled up in the 40’s style even to the white gardenia on her shoulder or in her hair, along with white gloves and nylons with the black seam down the back.She would look beautiful and sophisticated. I could not wait until the next morning to see the picture the house photographer would have taken the night before.
3) Learning how to roller skate backwards and do a sort of spin at the roller rink in Fair Park was the only wish I accomplished. By the time I became a teenager, a bike was the last thing on my mind. One of the two nightclubs was down to featuring wrestling or boxing matches and the other was no longer open. Oh yes, I would have to add; being an elevator operator was also high on my list.
After
completing high school and some college, the lure of my beloved City became
just too much to resist. In the summer
of 1955, I joined a flood of other kids pouring into “Big D” from all over
For a City
of its size,
The liquor
laws in
The fancy
expensive supper clubs offered the hoity toity food that only a European chef
can throw together. Usually a small
combo or dance band could play a good foxtrot or Cha Cha.
Generally,
a headline entertainer would be featured at
Then there
were the small neighborhood clubs with a lone piano player or a jukebox. These
clubs were not for dancing, just drinking and talking. Generally just walking
inside and purchasing a membership card for $2.00 or $3.00 for the evening was
no problem.
THE CHIPANGO CLUB
was referred to as the club of millionaires. It was
located near Turtle Creek and was fancy and exclusive. All the major movie
stars would socialize at this club when appearing or visiting in
THE ARTIST CLUB,
one of the most interesting clubs in
We would
make this club for artist the last call of the evening. It was not fancy but
did offer food, drinks, cards and a lot of very interesting artist. Some were headliners;
some were unknown outside the area of
In 1956, along with other 20 year olds new to the club
scene, I became obsessed with a popular dance called the North Texas Push. The
dance considered by some, to be rather seductive. And it was, but with a lot of class. Ideally, the tempo would not be too fast...too slow but somewhere in between. This made it a perfect fit for the blues,
and the new sound called rhythm and blues.
Since the end of World War II, it had
gradually become acceptable for young women to go out socially at night (stag)
without a date or escort. Up until then to do so could earn you the name “Harlot”
or at the very least “Loose”.
I favored the so-called small joints
with seating for 100 to 200 with a dance floor, a good band or hot jukebox that
featured a lot of black music, i.e. Blues and Rhythm and Blues. If the music was good, there would be an
abundance of good dancers and this was my main interest.
The crowd was
mostly young, single and 20 to 25 years of age. You found the highbrow frat brats from nearby SMU, then the not so highbrow
get down and boogie rebel rousers from
Ballroom
dancing was another popular segment of the dance scene. The Latin dances had
caught on in
Underground
pills were plentiful and tended to be the drug of choice for most that liked to
be” high” in the clubs. Pot was plentiful, but not in the clubs. You would have to be extremely out of touch
with reality to think of lighting up in a club or in the club’s parking
lot. Undercover cops were
everywhere. If caught with any amount of pot on your person, in your car, or in your home, chances were you
would spend time in a very bad joint down south in
As is often
the case, our socializing was restricted to our tight clique who would number
seven or eight on most Saturday nights. Overall, we had or saw very little real
trouble and had, as T-Bone so aptly put it, a “Natural Ball”. As a generation,
it would be correct to say we were structured, organized, habit oriented and dependable. I could always find some of the gang on
any given night that I was not working. My schedule changed from week to week and contacting each other by phone
was rarely necessary. Our habits were set and almost never varied.
I rarely
dated anyone from the joints or went with a date to the joints; which was for
dancing and that was it. They were certainly not an ideal place to meet and
pick up a date. If you could not push,
you may or would be completely ignored be ye male or be ye female.
Heavy
drinking was not my M. O. The drunks were usually what I considered outsiders. A
coke set up or a beer or two were the drinks of choice. After all, I could not nail the dance
drunk. When the lights went on at
My roommate
worked for Delta Air Lines and encouraged me to seek employment with them; they
were expanding the reservation operation, which created several openings in
After
filling out, and turning in the application along with a list of
references. A thorough background check
was made….Family; friends and neighbors were visited and interviewed. Afterwards the personal interview process began.
After three local meetings, I made the (so-called) cut. I was issued a flight
pass for a trip to
The flight
to
The flight arrived on time at the
The disaster struck; my foot had gone to sleep and as I stood up, my right ankle gave way throwing my balance off. I fell onto a table loaded with loose silverware that was waiting to be rolled into napkins. The noise was deafening….silverware bouncing all over the floor, the table crashing, with me hanging on for dear life. All this echoed through out the small terminal.
Two Delta employee’s from operations
came to my aid with a wheelchair, they hurriedly loaded me into the chair and
wheeled me out to the plane, helped me up the steps and sat me in a seat. Of course,
my pride was so damaged; paranoia set in and I imagined there was great effort
on their part to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter. I was fine but surmised the job opportunity
had been blown. Everyone at Delta from the
president on down would surely hear of the spectacle.
A week later, I received THE CALL and I worked for this great
company for nine years
Before there was Kip’s Big Boy, there
was Lucas B&B sitting prominently on the Southside of Oak Lawn Ave. Phil’s Deli was directly across the street
and Mrs. Heath’s Steak House a block or so down from Phil’s. B & B was usually the last stop on
Saturday nights before going home. By
On an
everyday basis, Pete Lucas and his restaurant was patronized by hordes, well
maybe not hordes, but plenty of apartment dwellers, local radio personalities,
newscasters, musicians and airline employees, just to mention a few. I knew Pete in a casual way because my
roommates and I lived nearby, and since the food was dependably good, we
stopped in often. I liked Pete. Everyone
liked Pete. He was a very nice and generous man. Pete knew and appreciated his loyal and
regular customers. If he knew of a problem, maybe the loss of a job or another
reason of need, the check was scooped up by this thoughtful man who would also leave
a tip. I was witness to this on more
than one occasion. Being a regular
customer, I became friendly with a lot of the wait staff who seemed very fond
of their boss. They were always decked
out in pink and white uniforms furnished fresh daily, along with a once a week
hair do at the beauty shop. All
compliments of their boss. I always
admired and was astounded at the skill and patient humor used by these ladies
while tending to 50 or so hungry drunks at
Pete’s girlfriend worked as a flight
attendant for one of the airlines and was a friend of mine. Oft times the two would have teeny-weeny
spats. One such episode, so the story goes, happened when a broken promise led
to a broken leg. The girlfriend , one night, simply moved the automatic
gear shift from the “P” position to the “D” position and ran Pete down in the
middle of his restaurant parking lot. Now the car (rumor had it) was a gift
from…you guessed it, the victim. Pete
hobbled around with a cast and crutches for well over a month. The cast was
covered in nice little sympathetic messages and signatures. I did not personally witness this happening, but
neither of them denied it. However if not true it would not be unlike Lucas to
have started the rumor himself. Either
way, it was a fact he got a kick out of the broken leg. No pun intended.
Driving South,
Just as I expected, the parking lot
was packed and it became necessary for me to turn onto an open area of loose
dirt and potholes to park. As I worked
my way out of the car, the window was left down and as was always the habit, no
doors were locked. My concern now was
how to maneuver the potholes and loose gravel in my snug straight skirt and the
3” hills without twisting an ankle.
As the front door came into view, the
music became a little clearer and I could make out Wilbert Harrison singing…..Going
to
Walking inside brought a sigh of
satisfaction….It was all here, a slick hardwood dance floor crowded with the
best dancers in town and faces that were familiar to me. The jukebox was large
and lit up like a Christmas tree; it furnished enough lighting for the dance
floor and the tables placed around it. The thick curtain of smoke swirled
around as a hazy fog, created by the cigarettes smoked by 80% of the crowd.
The It’ll Do was located in an east
We were faithful to the ritual, on
Friday and Saturday nights, of gathering at the “Do” between
How’s about that!
While
checking the net for an exact location or address for the above-mentioned club,
the address remains a mystery, but what I ran across put me on the floor with
laughter.
I
clicked on a link that read: Hughes-Mine was the It’ll Do Club. I had actually been clicking on all links
mentioning Dallas and this club.
Well,
low and behold the Hughes mentioned was Karen Hughes of Bush and Company. Evidentially while a student at SMU (I would
guess in the mid 70’s), the instructor of her journalism class passed around a
different address in
I
just love it! Miss
Hughes was given the address to the IT’LL
DO CLUB! (Unfortunately Karen did not pass along the address in
the interview.)
It
sounds reasonable to me, but of course just speculation, that the instructor
may have had some prior knowledge of this little club back in the l950’s, but
then of course it could have been a random phone book pick because of the cute
name. However, there would be a BIG
difference in this club in the 50’s compared to the 70’s, but no matter…the
girl was set up.
Ruby’s
sister Eva was a little tilted and
she had not endeared herself to many of the guys. She was always standing at the door of the
Vegas Club collecting the after hours cover charge. She could be very abrasive if you were just
walking by, (not entering the club) especially (stag) guys. So, they started to
line up down the street out of her view. Then
one by one, they would walk by and give ole’ Eva the finger. This pissed her off royally. There were times when she would chase them
down the street shouting obscenities
as they took refuge in Lucas B&B.
Houston was full of whip dancers and great
music. Even though I rarely traveled to
SOMETHING FOR EVERYONE
The
On any
given Saturday night, the Sportatorium may spotlight Johnny Cash while at
Guthries you may have Jerry Lee Lewis. Earnest
Tubb or Marty Robbins might be at the Longhorn, and all within spitt’en
distance of each other.
For the more refined (usually associated with the
urbanite) taste, you could make a short trip (two miles or so) into downtown
and choose between the dinner clubs in the fancy hotels. One may be featuring say, Stan Kenton with
June Christi. On the other hand, one may
have Rosemary Clooney, Nat King Cole, or Johnny Mathis, and the list goes on. The
lines were always long down the way from the Adolphus and Baker Hotels at Abe’s
Colony Club where the main attraction was Miss Candy Barr, the most famous
stripper who ever graced a
It was not hard if you had the connections and the loot to find a gaming room in one of the many mobbed up clubs around town. Vegas in the fifties had nothing on “Big D”.
WRR and Jim (the cool fool) Lowe’s Kats Karavan dominated the airwaves from 10:00 p.m. to 12:00 midnight . Along with hundreds of young white listeners, I was introduced to Jimmy Reed, Gatemouth Brown, Little Willie John, Junior Parker, Sonny Boy Williamson, T-Bone, Lonnie Johnson, Muddy Watters, Little Milton etc. The station was owned by the city and Jim Lowe a young white DJ loved ‘low down’ black music. In addition, I often fell a sleep nights with the radio alive with the blues by the best. Gordon McClendon and his station KLIF dominated with rock and roll, and some rhythm and blues, but their biggy was the top 40 format. They had great DJ’s and popularized promotional stunts.
It is hard
to explain today, how segregated the music really was in the ‘50’s until around
’57 or ’58. Pat Boone, a graduate of
North Texas, was a good crooner and nice guy, but covered a lot of the so
called “race” (black) recordings after cleaning them up….making
them more palatable for the white audience. He never sounded as if he had his heart in those sessions. He did
however get a lot of airplay and sell a bunch of records. Elvis on the other hand, was a good-looking
white boy who imitated black singers (as well as some white singers.) which on
its merit is fine and somewhat common, but my problem is the tag of the “King”. Is it true: was Presley as much an original as most people
say he was? Early on, he had
incorporated some gyrations (sort-of-dance) that seem to have a hint of Jackie Wilson
in them. Of course, later after becoming obsessed with the martial arts, he
replaced Jackie with these type moves. Then all of a sudden, he shows up with
Orbison’s dyed jet-black hair. The King
also borrowed as much of
JIMMY REED’S music, in my opinion, was the influence, starting in the early fifties that convinced many
of the white clubs in Dallas to open their jukeboxes to the so-called “low down” black music. I learned to boogie to this music in early ’56.
Not only did Reed influence a new way to boogie, he motivated a generation of white teenage boys all over Dallas to pick up a
guitar and try their hand at the Blues. Yes, Elvis was an influence shaping the rock-a-billy sound, but Reed was the man.
Why was Reed such an influence? I have no real answer except he just crawled
inside your bones and made ‘em move.
GATEMOUTH
BROWN was and remains
a favorite Texas Guitar master. Occasionally he would book into
BOBBY
BLUE BLAND was one of
the greatest performers in person that I have ever seen. He was in his late twenties to early thirties
and his popular recording “Further on UP the Road” a favorite of mine, was still
climbing the charts. The black women were totally wild about him. He left
everything with his audience, and few blues singers at the time could touch him
vocally. He and B.B. King played shows
together and they were at their very best during these years. By the way, at
the time, B.B. sounded a lot more like T-Bone than he does now. He is another artist that could nail the
T-Bone sound. T-Bone was still performing in the ‘50’s, but I do not remember
him doing much around
JUNIOR
PARKER, like Bland,
was great in person. He knew how to
energize a dance floor with his use of “Yessss!” to punch a lyric or beat. Dancers picked up on it and you would hear “Yesss!”
on dance floors all over
WILBERT
I saw CHUCK BERRY in a small club in
downtown
RAY CHARLES was not interesting; at
least to me…until his “Wha’d I Say”. He
would occasionally play
LITTLE
WILLIE JOHN still
brings goose bumps when I hear “Talk to Me, Talk to Me”; this has to be one of
the best soul singers of all time. Let me see, there was “All Around the World “,
“Fever”, “Tell It like It Is”, “Uh Uh Baby,” and “Big Blue Diamond” along with
many more that he put on the charts. He was also a great songwriter.
KILLER AND
THE KING
In 1955,
(before either had risen to national fame) Jerry
Lee Lewis was playing the joints and honky tonks around the
I saw Jerry Lee at Guthries in Dallas later in the ‘50’s right after he had to leave England because of the marriage to his 14-year-old cousin. His career was beginning to take a beating. He was as wild as a March hare, and had the crowd, mostly college kids, worked into frenzy. I was partial to his kind of bluesy country records. His brand of rock and roll wore me out. If I had to choose between Elvis and Lewis, I'd have to go with the KILLER.
The harmonica had become almost as popular as the guitar to kids wanting to play
the blues. Radio stations played a lot
of Little Walter and Little Junior Parker, but my favorite was this Sonny Boy Williamson . I
was not aware of their having been two musicians that used the name of Sonny
Boy Williamson. I had gotten the impression from someone that he had long since
passed. And so, you can just imagine my
astonishment when it was announced the man would be appearing at a
Dallas club.
I rounded
up a group of friends and we arrived early enough to get a table near the stage
and dance floor. I believe Johnny
Copeland was fronting the band so the music was great and we were enjoying
ourselves while waiting for “the man”. The band took a break, and when they
came back on stage, we noticed an additional musician. He was an older man, but
definitely had not passed. He walked up to the mike, put the harp
in his mouth and bore down on "Don't Start Me to Talking" We fell over the table, and each other, as we
hit the dance floor. Sonny Boy II, was
alive and getting the job done.
RAY SHARPE was a
DOUG
SAHM had his first
hit with “She’s But a Mover” in the early ‘60’s, but he started playing in the
I fell in love
with LONNIE JOHNSON’S “Tomorrow
Night” and actually wore a 45 single out. The song is beautiful, but Johnson’s smooth vocal and brilliant acoustic
guitar, is like a hot oil rub and soothing shower after a 10K run.
Lavern
Baker and Etta James did just so-so recordings of this song along with scores of others;
some are ok but most just stink. If
Willie has not already (I may have somehow missed it), I would love to hear him
sit down with his old guitar with the big hole, and do Lonnie and this song
proud.
SMOKE! SMOKE! SMOKE! (‘THAT CIGARETTE)
Merle Travis
wrote the cigarette song back in the ‘40’s. I was about ten years old, and the war had ended a short two years
earlier. It seemed like the world was singing this song as they lit up and kept
time with each puff. Smoke rings swirled
around in the picture show, in the streetcar, in the bus, walking down the
street, airplanes, the doctor’s office, hospital, hospital room and all the restaurants
and clubs. There was no smoking in the
church however, after Sunday school, the porch, the steps and sidewalk outside
was crowded with the men folk catching a puff or two before the pastor’s
sermon. There was a tall round ash can setting right outside the double doors
of the church.
I tried my
first cigarette when I was eighteen. I
had just graduated from high school and my aunt had gotten me a summer job in
Since most of
the glamorous movie stars and women at “Ma Bell” smoked. I bought my first pack
of cigarettes at the newsstand next door. They were the unfiltered
Nevertheless,
in the ‘50’s if some group had decided they would dictate whether one could
smoke or not, they would have been tarred, feathered and run out of town.
But nicotine slaves are all the same
At a pettin’ party or a poker game
Everything gotta stop while they have a
cigarette
CHORUS
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke
yourself to death.
SHOPPING
FOR FASHION
During the ‘50’s
In the
summer of ‘58, along with two roommates, I moved into a very spacious furnished
two-bedroom poolside apartment. The
complex was large, brand new, and the young singles were moving in by the
droves. The rent was a little steep, but
the two bedrooms allowed as many as four occupants to share the rent. The utilities were always included.
If you had
children you would not be able to rent in this complex, they specifically
stated…..no children….no dogs; this was not uncommon in ‘58.
The pool
area was not fenced, I could open my
door, walk about 12 feet and jump into
the new pool filled with fresh sparkling water as blue as the Caribbean-thanks
of course to the dark blue tiles covering the inside of the pool. I know this may sound mundane to apartment
dwellers today, but let me tell you, this was exciting and new to us. Many had never been in a swimming pool that
was not public and crowded with small kids and their moms and dads or
rambunctious teenagers that made going swimming not worth the pain. Some had
rarely, if ever been to the beach. This opened up a completely new segment of
living that was reflected in our tanned bodies.
When not
raining which was not often in
Portable
radios were popular and well-represented poolside. On rare occasions, there may be a little ‘set-too’
over the volume or choice of music being played. Especially round mid day after
a beer or two…it was not a good idea to turn the volume up when lets say, Pat
Boone or Johnny Mathis was being played…you may hear from some quarter “turn
that Pat Boone-Johnny Mathis shit down”.
By mid-day,
after all the wine sipping and beer drinking, there would be an abundance of
experts on the subjects of baseball, boxing, the new Thunderbirds, Corvettes,
where to find the best price on the best food, etc. Music was always a topic, But, the most
popular and heated topic was the Texas-Oklahoma game.
All
participants tried to out-do each other with tall tales from the previous year
big party that always took over the whole of downtown
MY LITTLE GREEN CAR
Pulling
together $500 had taken several years of squirreling away the $20 a month,
which was quite a bundle in 1958 dollars. I had been dragging my brother around to all the used car lots on
Butterflies
were fluttering around in my stomach as I parked in a very prominent space
behind my apartment hoping my friends would take notice.
This car
did have one minor flaw, green and white was a very popular color scheme, quite
often the key would interchange with another proud owner of the same make,
model and color. I did actually drive
the wrong car home one night after leaving Guthries club and I was stone cold
sober.
My little
green car furnished me with perfect transportation until 1963; the poor thing
had never had more than 2 or 3 gallons of gas in it at one time
THE ROOMMATE
Having
roommates in the ‘50’s was just a fact, especially if you chose to live on the
North side of
The one
interesting exception was a beautiful tall and willowy 21 year old that was
very dramatic and ambitious to be in showbiz. She was determined to be a
singer. She spent all her extra money and time in voice lessons. The voice teacher was an older man (retired Broadway
performer) who knew his way around the performing arts community in
Evidentially
someone had given her the impression that she could be another Peggy Lee so the
jazz-pop genre became her focus.
My other
roommate and I had never had the pleasure of hearing our roommate sing, but we
thought she would be just great. She certainly looked the part and had the
right amount of dedication. The voice
teacher rumored to be one of the most respected in town, and supposedly, she
had been practicing with several combos for experience and exposure.
When she
announced that, finally she had landed her first professional gig. We were not
at all surprised, and promised we would be there for her début. On the big
night, we arrived a little early at the Hotel in which the small room was
housed. The club was nice and intimate, the perfect setting for a first
appearance. She had invited several others and we assembled at the tables
around the small slightly elevated platform that served as a stage. I got the
impression the others in the party had not seen the up and coming star perform
either. We were all excited for her, and looked forward with high expectation
to the show.
The
musicians arrived and introduced themselves. The piano player I recognized from
Lucas B&B. He made a nice introduction of the future star…There she was:
pale blond hair in a long page boy that framed a beautiful tanned face, she did
indeed have that “Peggy Lee” look as she stepped up to the mike and lifted it
out of its cradle, and in a low sultry voice…“There were bells on the hill. But
I never heard them ringing.” WHAT? At
first I thought this has all been a “put on” you know, a practical joke. But no, the girl was tone deaf; she could not
sing a lick. It was just awful. I finally
got up enough courage to look at the piano player, the expression on my face
must have been a big question mark because he just “winked” as if to say, “Yes,
she stinks but hey!, I’m used to it and I get paid just the same”.
My roommate
started kicking me under the table, we did not dare look at each other or it
would just be over. If I started,
laughing it would be uncontrollable and would lead to tears running down my
face and something worse running down my legs. We bit our lips and endured it. The second song was only a little better. Her singing career never took off, but she
married a great person, and as far as I know, lived happily ever after.
THE BENEFACTRESS
Living in a
nice new luxury apartment complex with a wide variety of young occupants could at times, afford an avenue to a certain unusual type education for a young naïve small town gal. Apartment living during this period was a perfect fit for me. I am not the loner type, never have
been….I love being with people and good conversation that doesn’t have to be
real serious or deep, but definitely not boring. People that make me laugh are nourishment to
my soul. That’s not to say a good philosophical encounter cannot be good food
too. Therefore, it is hard for me to relate to a loner type individual.
Among the
young crowd that spent time at the pool during the week, (there were a number
of shift personnel from the airline industry.) My roommates and I became
curious about a girl that would pop up at the pool from time to time with her
scotch and soda, a magazine or paperback romance novel,
Unlike in
today’s society this was considered very scandalous and “skanky “. Nevertheless,
you got to hand it to the girl she took the expression “sock money” to a completely
new dimension.
On several
occasions I had noticed a rather out of place guy spending time at our
pool. While he was older (mid thirties)
than the rest of the poolside crowd, it was his demeanor that was interesting.
He was aloof in that he never talked to anyone but seemed to be plugged into
everything around him. I began to call
him the Observer when he would appear at the pool.
The
Observer introduced himself to one of my roommates in the parking lot one afternoon
as she was getting into her car. The
name he used if my memory serves me correctly was Fletch. He was temporarily in
He talked
some about the new club but not a lot. We did learn some general information such as location, type of club and
that there would be dining and dancing. It would be private.
After a
month or so, Fletch invited the three of us to a Press and VIP reception being
held before the official opening of the new club. We thought the invitation was a nice thing
for him to offer, we graciously accepted.
We dressed
in our finest “go to dinner, foxtrot, conservative, classy black outfits”, and
at precisely
Hovering on
the sidewalk just in front of the door we noticed a couple of press
photographers poised with their cameras to snap pictures of Dallas’s finest as they walked up. I have to confess no flash bulbs popped as we walked through the door. Entering the main room, I was taken with the
pale blue and white curved leather booths snuggled tightly against mirrored
walls which, started at the top of each booth and went up to the ceiling. White
tablecloths dressed all tables; little silver vases of flowers along with
ashtrays were used as decorations on the tables with chairs.
Tables that
fitted into booths were set with small-lighted candles in silver holders. The
reflection of the small flickering flames dancing and bouncing off all the
mirrored walls seemed to create the ambience Fletch had described when first
mentioning the plan for this club. It
was breathtaking to us. We were agog.
Fletch was
standing just inside the room greeting each guest while at the same time paying
proper attention to the two society/entertainment columnist, representing both
Dallas newspapers. He greeted us and
temporarily turned the chore of host over to the new club manager leading us
across the room to a spacious booth against the East wall near the bar and
kitchen. A little isle between our booth
and a row of tables separated us from the dance floor. As we sat down, we noticed the three tables
in front of our booth had Reserve cards on them. As we slid into the soft
leather seats, our host walked over to the bar and told the bartender to take
care of us with drinks and talk to the kitchen instructing them to do the same.
If you were
a kid from
As the room
continued filling up with Tony Zoppi, the press, and not a few Fat Cats and
High Rollers. Our side of the room was
suddenly lit up with flash bulbs; Photographers were in a total frenzy, when
suddenly we could see what all the fuss was about, as the beautiful McGuire
Sisters took their seats at one of the three reserved tables across from our
booth. Rowan and Martin followed close behind; they later became better known
for their ‘60’s TV show “Laugh In.” The crowning jewel was about to make his
appearance to loud and warm applause. Even
though our booth was very near his table, we could only make out the top of his
head as he took his seat. Tony Bennett
was here, and my roommates and I were about to jump out of our skin.
Much to our
disappointment, the stars were window dressing...not there to entertain. There was a very good combo for dancing. During their break, a talented local kid
equipped with an acoustic guitar strolled from table to table strum’en and sing’en. A little later Trini Lopez had a big hit with
“If I Had a Hammer”. I doubt there are
many people that remember what a good musicianTrini was. He was also a good character actor. However, while in
To the
bartender’s credit, he followed his boss’- orders and the supply of whiskey sours
kept on coming. Just as I was teetering on the edge of getting cross-eyed and
sick as a dog, my little gold Elgin showed the little hand on eight and the big
hand on twelve…suddenly there in front of me appeared a wonderful plate of food.
For the
most part the open bar concept was in use. Most of the crowd simply went to the bar when replenishing their
drinks. Dan Rowan went back and forth to
the bar getting drinks for the McGuire Sisters. Tony Bennett spent a lot of time talking to people, as they would
approach him on his way to the bar. We
lay in wait for autographs but just could never muster the courage to go and
ask for any. Fletch came by to see if we
were being taken care of. Therefore, we
took the opportunity to request an introduction to Bennett. Instead of taking the three of us over to
Bennett’s table to meet him, this can be intimidating, our host asked Bennett
to come to our table and meet us. I
thought then and still do; this was an act of real class. Fletch introduced us as his new friends and
neighbors. After the usual pleasantries
and our being mostly tongue-tied, Mr. Bennett took our flimsy paper
napkins. He wrote nice little greetings,
signed them, then looking up smiled, thanked us for our ‘fan-ship’ turned
around, clicked his elevated hills and sped away as fast as his legs
would carry him.
At
THE STAR
One evening
while at work, my friend called to invite me to dinner. Her friend the (artist agent) was picking up
one of his favorite clients at his hotel and wanted the two of us to go to
dinner with him and the star. Other than
the fact that it was a Thursday night and I was not getting off work until
Thirty minutes later, she called back and asks me to reconsider. She filled me in on the star whose name neither of us recognized. He was in town to play, I think it was the Adolphus and would open the following evening. He was a singer and accordion player. Now look…an according playing just did not sound all that interesting to me, but she was my best friend and assured me it would be a short evening since he was tired and would have to be up early on Friday to get ready for his upcoming show. Oh, yes! I was assured he was young and cute. I relented and agreed for the three of them to come fetch me at my apartment. Fortunately, I lived ten minutes from work, so I managed to be ready when I heard a knock at the door. As I opened the door I could not help but notice; that standing next to the agent was the cutest 22 or 23-year-old Italian you could wish for. The evening turned out to be wonderful.He was completely at ease, a lot of fun and really a sweet person. He really did not talk about his career all that much except to say he would be doing work in Vegas after Dallas. I was glad that I did not have to admit to being unfamiliar with his work. After a wonderful meal at Arthur’s Steak House, we took him to one of the joints for a few minutes where he enjoyed watching the dancers and the push. We had him back at his hotel at 12:30 and I was very glad I had gone.
What is so amazing about this story? I really did not know what a talent he was until the 60’s. Little Anthony and the Imperials had a hit song: “Going out Of My Head”, that a long list of artist had recorded. I saw Sinatra in concert during the period that he had a hit recording of the song. He introduced the song, but before he started to perform it, he gave credit to the young and talented composer Teddy Randazzo. I was surprised but very happy that Sinatra had acknowledged him. This was a number of years after my first and only meeting with the star.
THIS KID from Denton hung around the clubs. Not a lot was known about him other than he could out dance anyone on two legs and was obsessed with dancing, music and Johnny Guitar Watson; that is as long as Watson kept the tempo to his liking; which was not fast, not slow but in between. At times, Watson liked to speed it up and what the kid would refer to as “show out”. Of course, this made doing the push too herky jerky and it would drive the kid nuts. The first time I heard Jimmy Hendricks I thought of the kid and could just see him shake his head and sadly say, “That SOB just killed the push”.
He had no car. In addition, hitchhiked everywhere he went
unless some of the gang gave him a ride. He would pop up everywhere we
went. My roommates and I had just
reached the outskirts of
The kid could
be troublesome at times but also funny. For instance, if the crowd decided to leave
one club and go to a different one, and if the kid got wind of it, he would go
around asking everyone for a ride. Then when they were nice enough to haul him
along, if the band or dancers were not to his liking, he would plead with them
to leave and take him back to the other club. Of course, this was to no avail, as the plea was
ignored. He would then declare to the entire group that he was never going to
ride with any of them anywhere again. Nevertheless, he could make anyone
look good on the dance floor. Sometimes when business was slow, Guthries would
have a dance contest. If the kid happened to be there and had a partner that
could follow him, they would probably win.
The notion
of falling in love in 1960 was the last thing on my 23-year-old mind. Equipped with a great job, great friends and
a nice little car. How much better could it get? Who needed a complicated relationship that
may turn tears of laughter into tears of heartbreak? Although my thinking was a little shallow, my
life suited me just fine. I was not
looking for love and did not yearn for it. Male suitors were plentiful. Some
became good friends, which I dated off and on for several years, but not
seriously. As was typical on Saturday nights, my roommate and I headed for the “Do”
to connect with our usual crowd.
While on
the way to my usual table stopping and talking to people along the way, a good
friend that had just recently relocated from
A couple of
months would pass between this first meeting and our first kind of date. It was the kind of date we were comfortable
with: sorta nice, sorta fun. Nothing too
serious...Ron’s reputation of dating many different girls was no secret and at
the time was no problem. Victor was
convinced that it was just a matter of time…Much to his credit that time came
for me one cold and snowy February night.
We had left
a friends apartment somewhere in Oak Cliff. Ron was driving my car with a heater that did not work. The wool suit I was wearing was not warm
enough for the 28 degree weather, but it looked great so what the heck.
Needless to say, my hands, feet and nose all seemed to be a grayish blue color,
I was freezing. At the next red light he
slipped out of his jacket, placed it around my shivering shoulders, drew me(all
5ft.3in. 110lbs) close and snug against his (6ft3”210lb) warm body. This alone was enough, but what really sealed
the deal was the little extra squeeze. In addition, the soft and mellow harmony of the Four Lads beautiful and
romantic song “No Not Much” was flowing from the radio. It was down right
remarkable how fast my hands feet and nose turned a rosy red. The car had warmed up. The light from the
street lamps revealed a face that was intense, but concentrated on the icy
street while driving with one hand, the other still around my shoulder. I have
no reasonable explanation for what happened next other than I just could not
control my mouth, well maybe the Four Lads played a small part... I blurted out “You know I not only
like you, but I really love you”. I
think we’ll just get married.” I sheepishly glanced at the rear view mirror to
check out his expression. It was the
same, except I noticed the slightest hint of a grin….you know the sorta grin
that say’s, “Oh Yeah! That’s what you think”.
I became
determined to tame and guide my Knight into the yoke of Holy
Matrimony. It took exactly eight months
and five days. It was a road that would
at times be erratic and rocky, but
well worth the trip.
Ron and Vic
lived in an old white wood frame apartment house on Cedar Springs. They occupied the north end upstairs-furnished
apartment. The furniture was turn of the century and was the PITS. They cared less, the location was good and it
was nice and cheap. Besides, they just showered, changed clothes and slept
there (on and off) for an average of five or six hours a night. Both were knock-out
The notion
of all these names and numbers haunted me. In order to put my mind at rest I
snuck over to the apartment one
afternoon while they were hard at work. Feeling just a tiny bit of guilt as I
let my self in through the unlocked door, I saw the tacky list…With
satisfaction I slightly altered the R list in the following way: if the number
had been LA-7465… It became LA-7265.
Alas, it was all for naught, he never knew the difference as I eventually
learned; he hated talking on the telephone and rarely called anyone.
Ron was
allowed to use his company car for his personal use. It was a1960 white station wagon
and looked very much like a hearse. It was not a “cool” mode of transportation
for a swinging bachelor. It mattered not
at all to the bachelor…the thing was
new and it was completely free. I hated
it and insisted he drive my car when we went out. This was fine with him if I bought the gas. For you see, the company bought his gas. He
would drive the hearse to my apartment and drive it home at the end of the
evening
Saturday
night had evolved into our special night together. I never made a habit of
going out during the week because of the odd houred shifts I worked. We spent most Saturday nights at a movie, a
private party or at the “Town Pump”, a popular club located on
There was no
reason to suspect that a particular Saturday night might play out differently…as
minutes gave way to hours and no white station wagon I finally got it…stood
up. I had never suffered such an indignity and a smoldering rage had taken
over. By
I must
confess I did lay low for a good week. If I saw the white station wagon, I went the other way. Ron did not,
(after 47 years) does not find this little stunt amusing. On the other hand, I
did, and still do consider it not only amusing but also quite brilliant.
The Con started a week before an event in
Bandera called the “Stampede”. I was not
What do you
think? Not to worry, I am not
serious. However, as a child, catching
lightning bugs was a favorite summer activity. It would be dark and there they were; thousands of dots flashing on then
off with a blue greenish glow. I could
stand in one spot, reach out and catch enough to fill my pint jar. I would sit on the steps and pretend they
were diamonds. It was possible to stick them in my hair, on my fingers, wrist
and neck. I was adorned with the finest of
jewelry.
To my mind,
the music coming at you from all directions (different and new genres) during
the ‘50’s was sort of like the lighting bug, you could reach out and fill your jar with hundreds, but thousands were still floating
around. In comparison, a small number became
diamonds (on the charts). Many with the same glow did not.
By the
early to mid 1960’s, it was pretty much over for our mode of dance, music and
crowd. A lot of us had been married and
dropped out of the club scene. We were
settling down having families. Just as life speeds up, so does the music, dance,
and the crowds trying to get somewhere.
For my slow
down listening pleasure, I like a mixture of all genres. Jimmy Dorsey’s “So Rare” was/is my FORGET
YOUR TROUBLES AND GET HAPPY SONG. Like a
big piece of chocolate, cake….Pure Sugar. You need a pure sugar song!
I always
liked the Ray Price record of “How Time Slips Away”, but suddenly the meaning
seems to be a little more personal. Can
it really be that 47 years has slipped away? We still love Blues and the Rhythm and Blues of the fifties. Although we moved away in 1969, we continue
to visit often. Each time we drive or
fly into “Big D”, we get a fuzzy feeling when we see the Flying Red Horse still there atop the same building.
Like so many
of my vintage peers, I pay very little attention to the music or musicians of
today. Being a vintage (as
I recently heard my generation referred to) I understand as the decades pass,
very little stays the same. That is ok with me; the changes along the way have
for the most part been; challenging, interesting, fulfilling and
satisfying. I would not change a
thing. Remembering the way it used to be
is equally fulfilling with no changes needed. Neither Ron nor I have ever been guilty of living in the past. Having said that…..a couple of years ago we
took a trip to New Braunfels, Texas on a little sentimental journey to visit
some of the spots that our family enjoyed while camping, swimming and tubing
along the beautiful Guadalupe River. Eventually
we wound around to the small community of Gruene where there is a delightful
restaurant located in an old gristmill right next door to one of the oldest
honky tonks in
We noticed
three young musicians setting up their equipment (a bass guitar, drums, and
lead guitar). Assuming the music would be country, since this area is home to
George Straight, we decided to hang around a few minutes and check it out
depending on the start time. Walking over
to the lead guitar player, Ron asks what time they would play. They would be ready to go in twenty minutes,
or around
Ron and I
took the opportunity once again to step back in time while visiting family in
We drove over
to Haskell and turned left onto Elm. After we crossed Peak, there it stood in
all its farmer glory, the old neon sign. The neon lamps had long since worn
away, but for that minor flaw, the original sign was in great shape. The
parking lot was completely paved, no loose gravel and potholes. However, the
most exciting thing was the building. It
was there, it was the same except for the front door and paint. The original front
entrance is now located to the side of the building, but the old wooden doors are
the same. After parking our car, we
walked to the back of the club to check the exit that would suddenly swing
open at
Three
partners owned the club, one of which was “Big Bill”. The “Do” had very few misunderstandings. No body jacked with Bill. The back door was actually famous for a
very practical and useful reason; other than the more obvious one. You see,
this club had two separate clienteles. The
afternoon crowd was mostly, traveling salesman, shift personnel, local outside
sales people, divorcees etc. The crowd was a little older than the night crowd
was. You might call it the forerunner
of the “happy hour”. However, it was
still a joint made for dancing and the housewives and secretaries could stop
off for an hour or two before having to get home to start supper thus, the name
“pressure cooker girls“. For the most
part, they favored a little difference in music and dance. Those that were married would never admit to ever
hearing of the place, much less going there. I would be willing to bet there are very few traveling salesmen that
came to
Now back to
the infamous back door. Many hilarious
stories circulated about it's importance. If a spouse came a-looking for his/her better half, they had to come
through the front door and through the bar area to get to the dance floor and
seating in the back. I have no idea the
sq. footage of this club. However, I was told the back part was two WWII
Quonset huts fused together as an addition to the original building that had
been a small neighborhood bar. Evidently,
as the government started to sell off its Hugh stockpile of these portable buildings
and for very little cash. It created an opportunity
to enlarge the business to include dancing.
It was always
a respectable shade of black in this club, so when the front door opened you
could very clearly see who was entering. This gave the hunted ample time
to leave the dance floor and hit the door before the hunter could get to
the back. If it became necessary for a
door to swing open, the jukebox and crowded dance floor, (even being short
one dancer) would never miss a beat. The dance floor was about three or four steps away from the exit. Bill did not like flying beer bottles, the
back door helped keep the peace.
The tables
were small squares but could accommodate a party of four. One person could set
alone without being too conspicuous. At night, they were easy to push together
for up to eight or so. The night shift
was the young single college and working crowd. It was not necessary for the back
door to swing open until closing time.
A man walked around
from the front of the club and we ask if the club was still operating. Yes, it was and the owner had just driven up
and gone inside. It was only
The club scene
for the most part nowadays has a casual dress code, not so in the 50’s. To get a true feeling of the time, you must
picture this little 250 to 300 seated joint with men in suits and ties. Now
they may loosen or take off the tie, the jacket, and roll up the sleeves to be
more comfortable, but dress pants and nice shirts with a conventional collar
was the norm. No one wore blue jeans to these clubs, no t-shirts, no sandals.
The acceptable standard for women: Dresses (be careful with the neckline,little or no clevage allowed), straight ( what are now referred to as peincil) skirts (that could be a little snug), sweaters ( that might be a little snug)
and in some cases suites, but no pantsuits and always hills and hose.
There would
not be many suits represented by the night shift. As a rule, nice gabardine dress pants with
open collared starched dress shirts and always dress shoes. The women dressed much the same at night or
day. There seems to be a misconception about these clubs in the ‘50’s. They were in no way dangerous and I never
experienced any disrespect or felt threatened in anyway. That is not to say, it
would not get hairy at times, but on these rare occasions a strict and firm
hand settled the matter. Most of these
owners were tough no nonsense type individuals. It was more like a neighborhood
bar where every body knew each other and got a long.
Bud Phillips
is the current owner of the It’ll Do. He took charge in the early eighty’s, but
had worked there as a young
The clientele
is different, the music is different but the “Do” still looks the same. Even
down to the brand new slick as a button dance floor. It is the oldest club still open in
I suspect just about everything has been said…that should be
said…about the Longhorn Ballroom. This
After checking out the “Do”, we made the short drive through
downtown
Interestingly,
like the “Do”, the Longhorn’s patrons are all Hispanic along with the
area.