With the recent death of entertainer extraordinaire Jerry Lee Gothard, I am reminded that I have wanted to do a column on my favorite musical memories.
Gothard was certainly one of those. We played in each other's bands for over a decade. There's no doubt that he had a period of at least a decade when he was the hottest ticket in Chattanooga. When he had Larry Mason on drums (the best ever in this town) and Bobby Lowrance on bass, they could blow your mind with just three pieces. Their harmonies would put chill bumps all over your body.
When Roger Alan Wade finished rehab, his first gig was at Bud's. When someone finishes rehab, they fear they cannot relax and play without booze, so I wanted to be there to support this incredibly gifted songwriter and dear friend.
After the first number, you could see he had whipped his fear demon, and I have never seen him looking better or singing better. I was so proud of him. I still am.
When I worked in Charleston, W.Va., I was driving home one Friday night. Coming into Knoxville I saw a hand-painted sign, "Charlie Rich, Live Here Tonight." It was a small place called the Stone Inn, and I could not believe Charlie would be playing there, so I stopped and inquired. Yes, he was going to be there for shows at 7 and 10 p.m. I bought tickets to both.
I had been a Charlie Rich fan since he started playing piano bars in Memphis. I have never seen better shows than he put on that night in that little place in Knoxville with a group of Knoxville musicians who had never played with him. They rose to the occasion magnificently.
Another memory that will live forever in my mind was Charlie Louvin singing my song in a Capitol session in Nashville. You never forget the one who does your first song. It was a silly little song titled "I'd Be Glad to Help You Out (Just Show Me Which Way You Came in)," but he sang it so well. It's on his "I Forgot To Cry" LP, and now that he has passed on after induction into the Country Music Hall of Fame, maybe Capitol will re-issue his recording.
Johnny Paycheck played Memorial Auditorium one night, and I went backstage to see his manager who had published some of my songs. He and Johnny spent the night at our home in downtown Watering Trough, and Johnny sat on my couch and sang for us and a few neighbors until 6 the next morning. I've heard him in many venues, including Governor's shortly before Johnny died, but his "couch performance" was the best of all.
In the notes of my latest CD, "Heroes and Engrams," I tell the story of hearing blind Pete Cassell at the Pilgrim Holiness Church on Taylor Street when I was a preteen. He had a local radio show and went on to record on several labels. But hearing his stories and hearing him sing his radio theme song, "I Know What It Means To Be Lonesome," was one of the most memorable nights of my life.
I've got so many precious musical memories, but these just bobbed right up to the surface.
Email Dalton Roberts at DownhomeP@aol.com.