In the summer of 1973, Doug Sahm had settled into a rambling, leased wooden house on a tree-shaded hillside above the Soap Creek Saloon out on Bee Caves Road, in what was then rural Austin, Texas. His furnishings were simple: a bed, a table, two chairs, two spoons, two forks, two knives, two plates, a phonograph, hundreds of LPs, several amps, and a number of guitars. The LPs were mostly country classics, blues classics, and jazz standards. Everyone from Bob Wills to J.R. Chatwell, from T-Bone Walker to Lightnin' Hopkins, from Miles Davis to John Coltrane. And rolling papers, of course. A gallon jar full of the finest Mexican weed available. A refrigerator full of Big Red sodas and Pearl Beer and molding weeks-old tamales. No phone. And, usually, a live-in chick. (Note: "chick" was the operative word then for a female friend of a music star.)
He had been a Texas expatriate for years, after being the subject of a highly publicized rock 'n' roll marijuana bust in Corpus Christi, Texas, while a rock star as leader of the Sir Douglas Quintet. After years in San Francisco, where he became a prominent bandleader with regular shows at the Fillmore, Sahm had decided to come back home to Texas in 1970. I had done a cover story about his return for Rolling Stone magazine in 1971; he had settled first back in San Antonio (his hometown) and then moved to Austin in 1973.
Anyway, that summer in 1973, Doug and I spent a lot of time together. He was sharing custody of his kids with his ex-wife Violet, and he would bring them over to swim in the pool in my little apartment complex out by Lake Austin. We barbecued ribs and chicken on my Old Smokie and sat out in the sun and drank Pearl beers and talked music while he rolled homegrown smokable tamales.
When Jerry Wexler came down from New York City to Austin on his expedition to find and sign Doug to Atlantic Records, it was, Wexler said, like an early field recording expedition by John or Alan Lomax. Except that they did no recording. It was all hanging out, cruising the streets of Austin and San Antonio in Doug's big Lincoln towncar, finding legendary musicians such as Spot Barnett and Rocky Morales, delving into stacks of LPs and 45s in obscure record stores on San Antonio's West Side, dropping into ice houses for cold beers and hot tamales. Then Doug disappeared until it was time to fly to New York City later to cut for Wexler.
He had seldom lived in any one place for very long and still had no phone number. For years, you could leave phone messages for him at the Austin hippie department store Oat Willie's, where you could also buy a huge variety of rolling papers, underground newspapers from around the country, bongs, tie-dyed T-shirts, patchouli oil, and all manner of hippie paraphernalia. What you would hear back from messages left for Doug invariably began with, "Hey, man, I'm in..."
You never knew where he was or what he was going to do next. Every scene was just over -- he had decided that the Austin scene was dead and he was off to Vancouver or Taos or Stockholm or back to "Frisco" or off to Amsterdam. The next place was, his messages always said, "beautiful" and "groovy" and "happening, man!"
Indeed, I am more and more amazed in the wake of Doug's death last November of the very different versions of his life that are filtering in from around the world; of his various lives as people knew him.
I have many tapes of my interviews with him that go on for days, it seems -- indeed many journalists do, and you often read them.
But one day in 1985, Doug was at my apartment in New York City and said he wanted to begin leaving a journal of his life and times.
A few days later, he brought me some pages he had actually written. I had never seen him write anything down before in his life.
On these scrawled notes on yellow legal pad pages are what Sahm intended for a book about his career. Not about his life -- he carefully guarded that. I was amazed when I was at the Sahm memorial services at Antone's in Austin to learn of the existence of a Doug Sahm brother. Doug had never mentioned him to me. Later, a missing sister turned up.
I've spent many an hour talking with Texas writer Joe Nick Patoski about the different Doug Sahms that the world knew. Or didn't know. I was astounded to also learn that Patoski had moved back home to Texas, to Austin, after reading my Rolling Stone story on Doug and had decided that it was "safe" for him to come home, now that Doug had done so and that Doug had made peace with his past and his environment.
If that sounds ancient and quaint now, consider that the cultural wars of the late '60s and early '70s were very real. The counterculture versus the "straight" culture, the anti-war movement, the hippies versus redneck thing in Texas especially -- all of those had literally split families and friendships down the middle and sent flocks of Texas kids to live in Canada, San Francisco, Amsterdam and other more-user friendly spots.
Now, they were trickling back home, after Sahm had tested the waters and found them safe. He and fellow Texas expatriates Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson found a new home at the Armadillo World Headquarters in Austin, an old National Guard Armory that became a music hall, beer garden, art gallery and home to what came to be known as progressive country music.
Doug said he realized his Austin years had been pivotal in his life and career and had more or less positioned him for a re-entry into the music industry, and certainly had allowed him to define his musical identity. At the same time, he pointed out, it was not the sum total of his life. Still, playing the country music clubs of Austin, apart from the Armadillo, sparked a return for him to a love for country music, the country music he had played as "Little Doug," the child-prodigy steel guitar player in San Antonio who performed with Hank Williams.
It was that Doug Sahm that led to his recording in 1999 what would become his last album, The Return Of Wayne Douglas, due in June from Tornado Records. The name, Wayne Douglas, came from his middle name of Wayne and was his often-used alter ego onstage when he played country dates at venues such as Austin's Broken Spoke.
The record spotlights the steel guitar leads of Tommy Detamore and the fiddling of Bobby Flores, and includes backing from electric guitar great Bill Kirchen and Sahm's longtime cohort Augie Meyers. Also contributing were Clay Blaker (acoustic guitar, and a duet vocal on one track), pianist Ronnie Huckaby, upright bassist David Carroll, drummer Dan Dreeben, and Doug's son Shawn Sahm (backing vocals on three tracks).
The material mixes recent originals such as "Beautiful Texas Sunshine" and "Can't Go Back To Austin Anymore" with Sahm catalog classics such as "Cowboy Peyton Place", "Texas Me" and "Dallas Alice". There's also a couple of choice covers: Bob Dylan's "Love Minus Zero/No Limit" and Leon Payne's "They'll Never Take Her Love From Me", the latter of which is punctuated by a trademark Sahm ramble about Payne (a.k.a. "the blind balladeer," Doug exhorts).
What follows are some of Doug Sahm's notes toward the book that never did happen.
"Forward -- The Beginning -- The Genesis. For years, people have asked me for a real documented history of the Sir Douglas Quintet. I've been slow in comp -- doing it. But on the other hand, it does amaze me how often -- we're still going strong, feeling great. Just played for the hip L.A. crowd with Los Lobos -- they loved us. We all seemed to be late bloomers. Except for Louie Ortega, all of us are past 40 -- where most rock bands are retiring, we love touring, going back to Europe, writing, and performing for all those wonderful people.
So, I thought I'd put down some notes to capture the history of SDQ.
As I sit here on my porch, with a cup of coffee, just fed the cats -- I have 6 -- my head starts to wander back to over 20 years of rock and roll. Listening to Bob Wills, J.R. Chatwell on a tape given to me by my beloved Jerry Wexler.
'65 -- The Beginning. Well, to capture a thought for the era, we were smack dab in the middle. '65 was I think [unreadable] the year of rock and roll -- Dylan, Beatles, Stones -- rock and roll, the British invasion, it was all happening. We cut "Mover" ["She's About A Mover"] on Jan. 14, 1965, with the help of Huey Meaux in Houston, Texas. The picture was taken in Beaumont. The long coats were to look more British and regal. [Indeed, the original Sir Douglas Quintet press photographs were autographed by "Sir Douglas, Sir Augustus, Sir Jackson, Sir John, and Sir Franklin" -- for Doug, Augie Meyers, Jack Barber, John Perez, and Frank Morin.] Note my Brian Jones haircut. Augie wore no beard.
We hit the road in the spring, played some gigs with the Rolling Stones; summer [unreadable] went out to the Hollywood Bowl and Cow Palace. What a thrill [unreadable] the Lovin' Spoonful, Sam the Sham. We rolled along until an event that was to change my life. At the peak, on Sept. 7, 1965, my beloved father died. I was in shock, burned out on the road, partys [sic], women, good living, you know it's pretty hard to say no at 2 in the morning. More personal problems that lingered in '66. In March '66 it was off to the Promised Land -- San Francisco, in the full bloom of Flower Power. With John Perez-drums, Frank Morin-vocals, Augie Meyers-Vox organ, Harvey Kagen/Jim Stallings-bass, me.
'66 -- "The Rains Came" was a smash. We went to work, living in Monterey County, Calif., in a place called Prunedale, where I was to meet Louie Ortega. '66 tour -- fun at the Fillmore, Avalon, hippie chicks, all that.
'67 -- had to drop out. Not much going on except writing and raising my children.
'68 -- Come bad times. The Honkey Blues [album] signed with Mercury, wrote "Mendocino". Honkey Blues -- we were San Francisco's hippie bluez band, at a time of Grateful Dead, [Jefferson] Airplane, and Janis [Joplin]. In San Francisco, the scene was really going, except for the rest of America. Augie left Bulverde [Texas] and moved to L.A.
'69 -- Times Were A Changin' -- A big year for us. "Mendocino" really took off in Europe, No. 1 in Germany, Switzerland, Holland. By now in America, it was changing, the end of flower power, the Vietnam War dividing our country. The big musician haps were C.C.R. [Creedence Clearwater Revival] and Sly Stone. By this time, we had been in Calif. for 3 years, cut the Mendocino LP, then in November, what a break, it was off to Europe, which was to be my last trip for almost 11 years. Great gigs! I remember Vienna, wow. European girls!
1970 -- A passing year. Made good album but no Mendocino. My relations with Mercury Records were really strained. My personal life was changing.
End of '70 -- "Back To Texas." The flower power scene was winding down. But at that time in a place called Austin, Texas, was developing a scene that was to blow everybody's mind in the early to mid-'70s. Willie Nelson, my good buddy, was already there. The Soap Creek Saloon was getting ready for the Cosmic Cowboy Era. We moved back to San Antone, were listening to Ray Price, hanging out with J.R. Chatwell. Augie was coming back to the ranch. Great tacos.
Flower kid was going back to country.
'71 -- Recorded last LP for Mercury. Some of the songs like "Me and My Destiny" tell the story pretty well. Now into conjunto music -- got a bajo sexto [guitar].
Enter Jerry Wexler, V.P. of Atlantic Records, on board his private jet on the way to California with producer-engineer Tom Dowd."
Chet Flippo lives in Nashville and has written books on Hank Williams, Elvis Presley and the Rolling Stones.
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