Friday, February 11, 2005
Brush with Greatness ---------- Waylon Jennings
An occasional series.
By The Erudite Redneck
A light haze hugged the ground that night, with kids clustered here and there on blankets in front of a stage, the lit ends of their cigarettes shining bright, then low, like sluggish lightning bugs on a coolish summer evening.
It was the summer of 1982, my high school senior trip to Six Flags Over Texas. It was about 10 p.m., after a long day of all of us running all over the big amusement park between Dallas and Fort Worth.
It hadn’t occurred to anyone that high school kids shouldn’t be able to smoke tobacco. Of course, some of the haze wasn’t coming from tobacco if you know what I mean and I know you do. And there was a bottle here and there.
The band was warmin’ up. The familiar refrains of “Amanda” started up and out popped the star attraction: Waylon Jennings, bandanna ‘round his head just like his partner Willie Nelson wore it, with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand.
Waylon was in his own haze, with his well-earned outlaw attitude following him as he jumped around the stage like Pigpen’s cloud of dust or that bowl of Cream of Wheat that used to stalk people.
He started singing, “Aman-da-a, light of my life …” finished the chorus and the band started headin’ toward the first verse. Poor ol’ Waylon couldn’t remember the words – to his own song.
The band kept playin’ until it got back around to the chorus and Waylon started singin’ again. He handled the chorus, then the band started back into a verse and – danged if Waylon can’t do the song.
After two or three attempts, he finally took a big swig from his bottle of Jack and bellowed into the mike, “Hell, I just told ‘em I’d be here! I didn’t tell ‘em I’d be able to sing!”
Whereupon all of us redneck kids in the audience, and we were the majority, comin’ from where we did when we did, hooped and hollered and cheered and carried on.
Seein’ Waylon too s---faced to sing was a historical moment. We weren’t laughin’ at him, but with him.
But that wadn’t the Brush with Greatness. That came seven years later, in 1989.
Working at the paper in Texas, I got to do a phone interview with Waylon, to write a story to advance his comin’ to town for a concert. Havin’ been out of college all of two or three months, and bein’ therefore all full of journalism vim and vigor, I brought up the debacle at Six Flags.
Waylon had sobered up by 1989 – or at least he was sober at that time in 1989 – and he seemed sadly surprised when some kid at a paper in his home state had the cajones to bring up his drinkin’ days.
Well, hell yeah, I asked him about it.
He pretty humbly admitted as to how he was outta control back then but that he’d gotten his life together and all but he knew he’d always have to be answering questions about those days. Do tell.
Well, I felt bad for bringin’ it up, although I’d do it again. Sometimes you have to be mean – or at least act mean – to get a good story.
It’s almost called for when yer havin’ a Brush with Greatness, otherwise the Great will walk all over you – even a Great Singer-Songwriter and Great Texan like the late great Waylon Jennings.
(Click the link above to read ol' Waylon's obit.)
END
By The Erudite Redneck
A light haze hugged the ground that night, with kids clustered here and there on blankets in front of a stage, the lit ends of their cigarettes shining bright, then low, like sluggish lightning bugs on a coolish summer evening.
It was the summer of 1982, my high school senior trip to Six Flags Over Texas. It was about 10 p.m., after a long day of all of us running all over the big amusement park between Dallas and Fort Worth.
It hadn’t occurred to anyone that high school kids shouldn’t be able to smoke tobacco. Of course, some of the haze wasn’t coming from tobacco if you know what I mean and I know you do. And there was a bottle here and there.
The band was warmin’ up. The familiar refrains of “Amanda” started up and out popped the star attraction: Waylon Jennings, bandanna ‘round his head just like his partner Willie Nelson wore it, with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand.
Waylon was in his own haze, with his well-earned outlaw attitude following him as he jumped around the stage like Pigpen’s cloud of dust or that bowl of Cream of Wheat that used to stalk people.
He started singing, “Aman-da-a, light of my life …” finished the chorus and the band started headin’ toward the first verse. Poor ol’ Waylon couldn’t remember the words – to his own song.
The band kept playin’ until it got back around to the chorus and Waylon started singin’ again. He handled the chorus, then the band started back into a verse and – danged if Waylon can’t do the song.
After two or three attempts, he finally took a big swig from his bottle of Jack and bellowed into the mike, “Hell, I just told ‘em I’d be here! I didn’t tell ‘em I’d be able to sing!”
Whereupon all of us redneck kids in the audience, and we were the majority, comin’ from where we did when we did, hooped and hollered and cheered and carried on.
Seein’ Waylon too s---faced to sing was a historical moment. We weren’t laughin’ at him, but with him.
But that wadn’t the Brush with Greatness. That came seven years later, in 1989.
Working at the paper in Texas, I got to do a phone interview with Waylon, to write a story to advance his comin’ to town for a concert. Havin’ been out of college all of two or three months, and bein’ therefore all full of journalism vim and vigor, I brought up the debacle at Six Flags.
Waylon had sobered up by 1989 – or at least he was sober at that time in 1989 – and he seemed sadly surprised when some kid at a paper in his home state had the cajones to bring up his drinkin’ days.
Well, hell yeah, I asked him about it.
He pretty humbly admitted as to how he was outta control back then but that he’d gotten his life together and all but he knew he’d always have to be answering questions about those days. Do tell.
Well, I felt bad for bringin’ it up, although I’d do it again. Sometimes you have to be mean – or at least act mean – to get a good story.
It’s almost called for when yer havin’ a Brush with Greatness, otherwise the Great will walk all over you – even a Great Singer-Songwriter and Great Texan like the late great Waylon Jennings.
(Click the link above to read ol' Waylon's obit.)
END
Comments:
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Great Brush With Greatness, ER. Nothing warms the heart of a southern boy like seeing a country singer so sloshed he can't do the concert. Only thing that might have made this story better if had been the Possum himself.
# posted by 
: 10:37 AM
: 10:37 AM
I heard Waylon in Ft. Smith, Ark sometime in the 80s -- not sure exactly when, that part of my life all runs together in a haze. I do remember it wasn't a big stage, just a big bar with a big dance floor. When his entourage walked by to get to the stage, he was so close I could have reached out and touched him. He was sloshed, but not so much he couldn't give a helluva performance. I wish I'd had the opportunity to sit down and just talk with him. He must have had some amazing stories to tell.
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