went to Metropolitan Baptist Church. That’s where Willie taught Sunday School until they told him he couldn’t. He had to choose between playing music in bars or teaching Sunday School. He chose to play music.”
Bobbie’s job for Hammond Organ led to evening demonstrations at the El Chico Mexican restaurant and Wyatt’s Cafeteria. “They trained me to play organs there and all the grocery stores [Buddie’s], the Stock Show, Home Show, Boat Show,” she said. “I was the person on the little carousel going around and around, talking to people about how easy [playing organ] is to do. I sold organs. I taught organ. There were three teachers, and I wound up teaching the other teachers. And I’m the organist at Edge Park Methodist Church. They had their own sanctuary by this time. I sold them the big concert model.”
Just as Bobbie was getting settled, her brother came down with a bad case of itchy feet. If Fort Worth was the first place where his career showed potential, it was also the first place where he learned hard lessons about making a living playing music. He’d been raised to play music. But the truth was, the few dollars he made were earned because he sold beer and sometimes provided cover for gambling. No one was paying attention to all the songs he was writing. He risked getting beat up for not smiling when he was informed there wasn’t any money to pay him at the end of the night, or getting his head split open behind a beer joint just for saying something nice to a pretty young lady from the bandstand.
Even with Martha waitressing, it was still tough making ends meet. He had grown sick of old man Speck barging into the control room whenever he heard a record being played that he didn’t like, knocking the tone arm off the turntable, picking up the offensive record, smashing it to pieces, and stomping out of the room. An asshole like Jim Speck was all the convincing he needed to conclude KCNC was a dead-end gig. And Martha coming down hard on him for staying out and paying no mind to her or their daughter was just bacon grease poured on the fire.
For Willie, a change of scene might make it all better.
Vancouver, Washington, 1956
M YRLE NEVER LEFT Willie’s life. She came back to Texas often to visit her children as they were growing up, but never stayed long, always heading west again. Ever since his discharge from the air force, Myrle had encouraged her son to come play music in Oregon, where she’d put down roots in Eugene and married her third husband, Ken Harvey. Several times, he had obliged her.
With Myrle’s help and encouragement, while Willie was working at KCNC in Fort Worth, he sent a demo tape to Grandpappy Smith, the man to see when it came to country and western music in Eugene, Oregon. Grandpappy owned the Melody Ranch dance hall and was bandleader of the Western Valley Boys, the Melody Ranch house band, and hosted a show on KASH radio. He also had a small recording empire going on, with two record labels, Orbit Sound (for country acts) and Willamette Records, and a song publishing company, Myrtle Mountain Publishing.
The demo reel began with an introduction from Willie and the promise that if Grandpappy didn’t like the songs, he had fifty more. The first song was “One Time,” followed by “When I’ve Sang My Last Hillbilly Song,” “Just a Million Years,” “Maybe You’ll Know,” and “Born to Be Blue.” Willie was still singing “The Storm Has Just Begun” when the tape ran out.
Grandpappy liked the demo well enough to book Willie at the Melody Ranch in May 1955. Grandpappy’s twelve-year-old son, Leon Smith, played lead guitar behind him on the dates. Grandpappy liked Willie, but not enough to offer a recording contract or more bookings.
When Willie left Fort Worth, he didn’t go to Oregon but instead headed for sunny San Diego. California was a land of opportunity, he had heard, and San Diego’s climate was close to ideal, with warm days in the winter
Bobbie’s job for Hammond Organ led to evening demonstrations at the El Chico Mexican restaurant and Wyatt’s Cafeteria. “They trained me to play organs there and all the grocery stores [Buddie’s], the Stock Show, Home Show, Boat Show,” she said. “I was the person on the little carousel going around and around, talking to people about how easy [playing organ] is to do. I sold organs. I taught organ. There were three teachers, and I wound up teaching the other teachers. And I’m the organist at Edge Park Methodist Church. They had their own sanctuary by this time. I sold them the big concert model.”
Just as Bobbie was getting settled, her brother came down with a bad case of itchy feet. If Fort Worth was the first place where his career showed potential, it was also the first place where he learned hard lessons about making a living playing music. He’d been raised to play music. But the truth was, the few dollars he made were earned because he sold beer and sometimes provided cover for gambling. No one was paying attention to all the songs he was writing. He risked getting beat up for not smiling when he was informed there wasn’t any money to pay him at the end of the night, or getting his head split open behind a beer joint just for saying something nice to a pretty young lady from the bandstand.
Even with Martha waitressing, it was still tough making ends meet. He had grown sick of old man Speck barging into the control room whenever he heard a record being played that he didn’t like, knocking the tone arm off the turntable, picking up the offensive record, smashing it to pieces, and stomping out of the room. An asshole like Jim Speck was all the convincing he needed to conclude KCNC was a dead-end gig. And Martha coming down hard on him for staying out and paying no mind to her or their daughter was just bacon grease poured on the fire.
For Willie, a change of scene might make it all better.
Vancouver, Washington, 1956
M YRLE NEVER LEFT Willie’s life. She came back to Texas often to visit her children as they were growing up, but never stayed long, always heading west again. Ever since his discharge from the air force, Myrle had encouraged her son to come play music in Oregon, where she’d put down roots in Eugene and married her third husband, Ken Harvey. Several times, he had obliged her.
With Myrle’s help and encouragement, while Willie was working at KCNC in Fort Worth, he sent a demo tape to Grandpappy Smith, the man to see when it came to country and western music in Eugene, Oregon. Grandpappy owned the Melody Ranch dance hall and was bandleader of the Western Valley Boys, the Melody Ranch house band, and hosted a show on KASH radio. He also had a small recording empire going on, with two record labels, Orbit Sound (for country acts) and Willamette Records, and a song publishing company, Myrtle Mountain Publishing.
The demo reel began with an introduction from Willie and the promise that if Grandpappy didn’t like the songs, he had fifty more. The first song was “One Time,” followed by “When I’ve Sang My Last Hillbilly Song,” “Just a Million Years,” “Maybe You’ll Know,” and “Born to Be Blue.” Willie was still singing “The Storm Has Just Begun” when the tape ran out.
Grandpappy liked the demo well enough to book Willie at the Melody Ranch in May 1955. Grandpappy’s twelve-year-old son, Leon Smith, played lead guitar behind him on the dates. Grandpappy liked Willie, but not enough to offer a recording contract or more bookings.
When Willie left Fort Worth, he didn’t go to Oregon but instead headed for sunny San Diego. California was a land of opportunity, he had heard, and San Diego’s climate was close to ideal, with warm days in the winter
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