So Ya Wanna Be a "STAR", eh?

My second son, Danny, was born in February of '79, and shortly thereafter, we got orders to Lakenheath, England. I'd finally gotten custody of my oldest son Dennis a year before, so on THIS overseas tour, I wouldn't have to worry whether or not he'd be ok.

Danny had the roundest face you ever saw, and when he'd be staring at something, his lips would almost form a perfect circle and looked like it had a "lifesaver on it. It was then that we nicknamed him "Mr Bill", (after that little "playdough character" on Saturday Night Live).

He's 32 today, and that nickname is still with him!

Anyhow, as time drew near to leave, I flew the wife and boys back to New Jersey, where they would stay with her uncle & aunt for a couple of weeks until we flew off to London. We were allowed to ship ONE car, so I left the Mercury with Mom & Dad, and I would drive our '70 Mustang cross-country to McGuire AFB in New Jersey, for shipment to England.

I'd chosen to take the Mustang with us, because it had a little 200 cubic inch 6-cylinder engine in it, that was VERY GOOD on gas. (I'd heard that fuel was a bit pricey in England), so the big Merc' stayed home with the folks.

So......with the family safely in New Jersey, household goods packed up and on THEIR way, I signed out, rolled out the gate, topped it off in Mountain Home, got onto I-84 and headed east.

Firearms are severely restricted and/or banned in countries where the people are subjects rather than citizens, so once AGAIN, I wasn't allowed to take any guns with me overseas. I left them home with Mom & Dad, along with my big Gretsch guitar. (After what happened to my Gibson, I wasn't about to give those "transportation gorillas" a chance to break THIS one too)

I DID bring an accoustic flat-top guitar WITH me, though, that I would handcarry on the plane! It was just a guitar I'd bought in a Boise pawnshop, so I could stay in practice while overseas, and if something bad DID happen to it.........I'd only be out 40 bucks this time! I would need it in England though--------and I had this "master plan" when I drove into Tennessee. I'd intended to make my presence known and felt, when I got into NASHVILLE!

THIS would turn out to be a hard lesson in humility.

If you sing or play an instrument long enough, you reach a point at least ONCE in your life, where you dream of "making the BIG-TIME." In 1979, if you were involved in country music, the "Big-Time" was Nashville, Tennessee.

Now, in the first ten years of playing, I HAD achieved a pretty fair degree of proficiency to that point, and could "heat the strings up" pretty well out in public, but "impressing the crowds" at Scrubby's, or in Carl Miller Park, doesn't mean you can just drive into Nashville, walk up to the front door of RCA Records, throw your arms open and yell out "HERE I AM!"

But that's what I had in mind, in the year of our Lord, 1979! I don't sing, as a rule, so I'd only have to compete with the "pickers" down there-------like Chet Atkins, Roy Clark, Jerry Reed......! But......surely they'd be looking for new upcoming talent......I'd just do a quick audition, and they'd so impressed, they'd keep my name & number, and snatch me right up when I got back from England. I would tell the Air Force goodbye, and just get out to pursue "fame and stardom."

This was gonna be a "cakewalk to a GOLDMINE!"

I was making all of these big plans in the car, as I put one state after the other behind me. (After the incident on Oregon 20, it bothered me not to have a gun in the car, but the entire trip was uneventful).

I had allowed a few extra days for this, and the "gameplan" was to get into Nashville sometime Friday, find "Opryland" and get a ticket for Saturday Night's show. Find a motel for the weekend, tour "Music Row" on Saturday, have a beer at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, see the Grand Ol' Opry Saturday Night, spend Sunday "fine-tuning" some audition material, go to RCA Monday morning and leave with a "potential contract" by noon...........then head for New Jersey to share the good news with everybody!

Here's how it went............

I got into Nashville, found Opryland and bought a ticket for Saturday night's show. Found a motel room in Murfreesboro.

Got up Saturday morning, drove back into Nashville and eventually found a place to park on "Music Row"

I wanted to pick up extra sets of strings to take with me to England, plus any Chet Atkins records or tapes that I might not already have. There was a record shop on every block, music shop, instrument repair shop, coffee shop, etc.

BUT......there were also MUSICIANS in alleys and on street corners! Guitar players, fiddlers, banjo pickers, mandolin players.......some of them by themselves, others in small groups........their instrument cases were open for donations. These guys were all over the place, playing for quarters, dollars, dimes and whatever else some passer-by might toss into their music cases.

...............and EVERY ONE OF THEM was TWICE AS GOOD AS I WAS!...........

"HOLY CRAP!", I thought.........these guys are TERRIFIC.....and they're out here trying to hustle-up money for supper. "If THEY can't make it down here......what does the "SUPER-PICKER of Scrubby's Smokehouse Restaurant in Idaho" hope to accomplish?"

I was devastated, to say the least. But I figured I might as well at least try to salvage SOMETHING today.......

RCA was out of the question now.........no point in wasting their time or mine. I DID hit a couple of the music shops and picked up a few things.

Tootsie's Orchid Lounge is a landmark there. The backdoor of the place faces the alley that separates it from the back door of the old Ryman Auditorium where the Opry used to be held. The Ryman was now just a "tourist attraction."

I walked into Tootsie's and ordered a beer. There were no other customers in there at that time of the day. I took my beer and walked around the old bar, looking at the walls that were COVERED with autographed pictures of the greatest country stars EVER, who had stopped in for a "cold one" after a Saturday night show next door. Although empty at the moment, you could somehow "hear" the laughter and see the cigarette smoke, as Hank Williams and so many others had been there, mingling with fans, who'd be hoping for autographs.

I finished my beer and went next door to the old Ryman. There was a small family already in there looking around, and I waited until they'd left before I walked out on that stage, that same old stage when Roy Acuff, Grandpa Jones, Minnie Pearl, the Carter Family and every big name you ever heard of had stood.............and of couse, my own idol Chet Atkins.

I stood there awhile, looking up at all the rows of empty seats, and the oldtime vintage heat-radiators along the walls of the main floor. I allowed myself a moment of imagined glory....then remembered the out-of-work "street musicians" I'd just seen. I wasn't good enough to even be STANDING on that hallowed stage, so I walked back down the steps, out of the building and back to the car.

I drove back to the motel, told them I was checking out early, then drove back out to Opryland. There were still a couple of hours before the show that I had a ticket for. I parked my car way out near the edge of the parking lot, so that when the show let out, I could just JOG all the way back to it, and beat most of the crowd out of there, get to the freeway and head east.

After I parked the car, I opened up the trunk, got my old guitar out, and looking every direction FIRST.........to make sure there was nobody around........I sat up on a fender and played four or five tunes. (I remember the "Wildwood Flower" and Wabash Cannonball" being two of them, but I don't recall now what else I played). Anyway, I then put the guitar back in its case, and locked it back in the trunk.

"Well"............I thought, as I walked toward the main Opryland complex............"I can ALWAYS say that I have PLAYED IN NASHVILLE!"...........'cause THIS was as close as it would probably ever get!

I had lunch, kicked around a little while, then walked into the Opryland Music Hall, and finally got to see the Grand Old Opry------LIVE!

But a strange thing happened----------Porter Waggoner was on stage that night, Faron Young, Grandpa Jones and a few other big names..........and as you'd expect, the music was EXCELLENT.............

But on the skid streets of "Music Row" earlier that morning, I KNEW I'd heard BETTER music out THERE! A LOT better.............made me think that maybe there WAS something to what I'd always heard------------about it not being about how good you were, but WHO YOU KNEW in the music business.

But the folks I was hearing at the Opry, were the ones cutting the albums and making the money! And to be fair, they deserve it because they ARE good!........but the ones I'd heard on the street that morning...........I thought were a LOT BETTER.

Anyway...........as soon the show was over, I got out the door past the slower walking people, ran out to the car to avoid the parking lot jam-up, and was soon on I-40, heading east, with my "shattered dreams" of stardom behind me.

In a couple of weeks, I'd be back on the Aardvarks, "F"-models this time, in Jolly Old England. (Yeah---if I'd learned ANYTHING from this, it was "Don't quit your DAY JOB!)

I never forgot that experience though. In the years that have followed, I've come a long way musically, and I remember one particular night out at Scrubby's in the mid-to-late 80's after I'd gotten back from England. I'd had an especially good night at one of the dinner shows----------one of those rare nights when you play all night, as fast as you want, yet never miss a note-------it happens-------

Anyway, a guy comes up to me after the show, and says "You really play a hot guitar, buddy!" "Thank You" I replied............then, as he started to walk off, he stopped, turned around and said..........."Ya know. YOU ought to be in NASHVILLE!"

I just smiled.