Discovering The Real America

Stories about places seen and people met as Moragh travels solo in the USA

Meeting Cowboy Jack Clement

Meeting Cowboy Jack Clement

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I blame my eldest son for starting the chain of events that led me to meeting Cowboy Jack Clement. He’d set me up on broadband in November 2004 and I began listening to country music on internet radio. A few months later, I heard a very catchy instrumental being played. The title was, ‘That Little Tune’, by the Dixie Doodle Construction Company. It so grabbed my attention that I wanted to buy a copy of the music. Tracking it down wasn’t easy, but I eventually found a copy of it. However, it was not on CD, but on a 45 rpm vinyl single. The composer, named on the label of the record, was Jack Clement. I recognized the name as being the Nashville music producer, Cowboy Jack Clement. I had probably seen his name mentioned in Doug Davis’s country music newsletter, which I had been receiving since 2005.

So who is Cowboy Jack Clement?

Considering the huge influence he had on the music scene for over 50 years, the name of Cowboy Jack Clement is surprisingly unknown. This is particularly so in the UK. Even in the United States, away from Nashville, TN, there are many people who have never heard of him. But, whether they know it or not, most people who have ever heard country, folk, bluegrass or rock-and-roll music will have heard artists he produced, and songs he wrote.

He was a combination of musician, music producer, songwriter, publisher and performer. He was also an engineer, executive and entrepreneur and film producer, and a dance teacher. Not just a jack of all trades, but a master of them all. That is, apart from as a film producer. The horror film, ‘Dear Dead Delilah‘, which he produced in 1972, was a resounding flop.

Jack’s early career

He’d started his music production career in a home-made studio built in a friend’s garage in Memphis in 1954, shortly before landing a job with Sam Phillips at Sun Studios. While working with Sam, he got to know Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash and Jerry lee Lewis, and other artists who were on Sam Phillips’ roster. He became best friends with Johnny Cash, a friendship that lasted until Johnny’s death in 2003.

While working at Sam’s studios, Jack was responsible for recording many songs which went on to become classics. They included Jerry Lee Lewis’s famous, ‘Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On’ and ‘Great Balls of Fire’ and Johnny Cash’s, ‘I Walk the Line’.

His move to Nashville

Later, after moving to Nashville, he discovered Charley Pride and was responsible for introducing him to RCA, launching his career. Over the years he produced for many other well known singers, far too long a list to mention here.

With his sense of humour and appetite for fun, Cowboy Jack was a loveable rouge who broke all the rules of Nashville’s convention for the music business. One of his most famous quotes was, “If we’re not having fun, then we’re not doing our job”. Having fun was everything to him.

Finding out more about Cowboy

To get a fuller picture of who Jack was, and his achievements, you need to look at this website at  AllMusic.com. But this story is about how I came to meet him and how I became a regular visitor at his home and recording studios, The Cowboy Arms Hotel and Recording Spa. Following my first two visits in 2007, I visited him at least once a year … nine or ten times in all.  The last time I saw him was two months before his death in August 2013. I knew then that I wouldn’t be seeing him again.

So why did I want to meet Cowboy Jack?

After getting the record of ‘That Little Tune’, I tried to contact Cowboy Jack to find out more about the band and the artists playing on that recording. After a lot of searching, I eventually found the e-mail address and phone number for his studios. My early efforts to contact him by e-mail failed, as my e-mails kept bouncing. I learnt later that their ISP didn’t like mine. When I phoned his studios, my call was answered by his colleague, Chance Martin a.k.a. Alamo Jones.

Chance and I spoke several times over the coming weeks, trying, unsuccessfully, to solve the internet problem. By this time it was early 2007 and I mentioned to Chance that I was going to be visiting Nashville that April. I asked him if I’d be able to come and visit Cowboy Jack. He said certainly I could, and he told me to phone when I got into town. I phoned soon after reaching Nashville and Chance said to me, ‘Come on down’. So, as I hadn’t got a car at that point, I called a taxi and headed down to the Cowboy Arms Hotel.

The Cowboy Arms Hotel and Recording Spa

The taxi drew up in front of a beautiful, large, brick-built house, in a quiet neighbourhood about three miles out of Nashville. I walked up the front path and knocked on the door and was welcomed in by Chance. After a short chat, he took me through to Cowboy Jack’s office.

Jack was seated at a large, wooden desk. On it was strewn an assortment of paperwork, piles of CDs, a pad of foolscap paper, dozens of pens and other assorted items. A large toy toucan on a perch, sat on one side of the desk and, on the other side, there was an ashtray which looked like a mini toilet … typical, as I found out later, of Jack’s sense of humour. On the wall behind him, part of his large collection of guitars and other instruments were hanging on display. At one side of the room, opposite the windows, were two enormous speakers and a huge TV screen.

Jack welcomed me in and invited to me to sit on the chair facing him across the desk, before offering me a glass of his delicious home-made lemonade. He was keen to know why I had come to see him. I explained about how I’d found ‘That Little Tune’ and that I was curious to know more about the Dixie Doodle Construction Company and the players in this group. He reached for his foolscap pad and, in large handwriting, he wrote out all the details about the group … their names and which instruments they’d played. He also included information about his radio programme on Sirius Radio. Other things he gave me were a DVD made from some of his home movies, and copies of ‘That Little Tune’, and a similar instrumental, by the same group, called ‘Feet’. This latter tune was featured on the intro to his website, but sadly that website has followed Cowboy Jack into death.

My tour of the studios

Next, he took me on a tour of his home and his studios. The first floor (ground floor) had his offices, work rooms, dining room and kitchen, along with his private living quarters. Upstairs, his studios spanned the width of the house. The stairs and stairwell leading to his studios were painted sky blue, with white clouds. Once up there, we came into this huge room, with other smaller rooms off it. There was an enormous mixing desk, where Jack’s sound engineer was working. Other rooms were used for recording, housing an array of equipment and instruments, or were used for storing archived recordings. It was fascinating to see.

Downstairs again, and we went into a room with a large table, round which a number of people were seated. Chance had a desk to one side, with a large computer screen. On this, he did photo editing for Jack’s website and created promotional material for the company, Clement-Vision. He also helped prepare the weekly radio show that he and Cowboy hosted on Sirius Radio. Many people would drop by at Jack’s house regularly, to chat and share with each other what they were doing. It was very much an open-door policy there. I was told, that if someone was a regular visitor for three months or more, they were given a key to the front door. In the next room, Jack’s son, Niles, was working and I had a brief chat with him.

My unexpected mini-tour of Music Row

One girl who called into the Cowboy Arms that day was CJ Flannigan, webmaster and photographer for Cowboy Jack. When it was time for me to leave, after a three-hour visit, she kindly offered me a ride back to my hotel in her car. This ride took a circuitous route, as she took me on a mini-tour of some of Music Row’s historic buildings. It was difficult to take everything in as there was so much to see in such a short space of time, though one or two places stuck in my mind.

My next trip to the Cowboy Arms was two days later. In my rush to get there the first time, I forgot my camera, having left it at the hotel. So a friend took me back there to get my photos. But more on that visit in the next episode of my story.

My Much Travelled Red Coat

My Much Travelled Red Coat

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Me in my red coat in the atrium of the Opryland Hotel.

Me in my red coat in the atrium of the Opryland Hotel.

My Much Travelled Red Coat

My red coat has crossed the Atlantic almost as many times as I have, and that’s a good many times. If I’ve counted right, it will be twenty-six times, between 2007 and 2016, counting the outward and return trips. If it could talk, I’m sure it would have some interesting tales to tell. It is my favourite warm coat, with a quilted lining and some fake fur round the collar. As I’ve travelled around, there has been many a time that I’ve been very glad to have it with me.

Extreme temperature variations are common in the States, hot in the day and cold at night, and often surprisingly chilly in summer evenings. During one autumn trip I went to visit my sister flying from Florida up to Boston, MA. I’d left Orlando in the 70s F, arriving in Boston to temperatures just above freezing, with snow threatening and a bitterly cold east wind. Boy, was I glad of my red coat that trip. In fact, it was so cold I had to borrow an extra fleece off my sister to put over my sweaters under my coat.

Braving the Elements

Another time, early May this time, I went to a one-day, open-air, music festival in Livingston, TN. The weather has been quite mild in the days leading up to the festival. But things changed when the day of the festival arrived, when a cold front blew in. It rained all day and a bitterly cold wind was blowing. The bands and singers were playing in an open-sided tent, through which the wind whistled, but at least it gave some shelter from the incessant rain. I wore my thickest sweaters, a sleeveless fleece and a scarf, over which I wore my red coat. I also had my hat and gloves on. Wearing all that, I just about managed to stay warm enough through the day, but I enjoyed the music in spite of the weather.

My red coat’s solo trip

Another year, after again spending a few days with my sister, we were standing at the train station waiting for the train into Boston. My sister was living in a small town about 15 miles out of Boston. That morning, she was going into work at the main hospital and I was heading to the airport to fly down to Nashville. That was when I suddenly realised that I’d left my red coat on the hook in her hallway. I was wearing my lightweight jacket that day, as the weather was very mild, so had clean forgotten about my other coat. If we’d gone back for it, we would have missed the train and we’d have both been late arriving at our destinations.

I had planned to be spending several days in Nashville, so the next morning my sister parcelled my coat up and sent it by express mail to my hotel in Nashville. It was an expensive trip for my coat, but, although I’d asked my sister how she wanted me to pay her, she never did tell me … so I guess I still owe her. So that’s how my coat got to travel on its own, unaccompanied by me, via UPS, on the next leg of its journey. At the end of its solo journey, a couple of days later, I was mighty glad to be reunited with it, not least because my house keys were in one of its pockets.

Houston and Galveston

During another trip, I’d flown to Houston, TX, to spend the weekend with my cousin and his wife. On the Saturday morning, his youngest grandson was celebrating his first birthday with a party at a local play park. I’d misjudged the weather that morning and I’d left my red coat back at the house. I soon regretted this, as the wind was much cooler than I’d anticipated. However, I did make sure that I was wearing it the next day when we went on a ferry trip across Galveston harbour.

Visiting the Opryland Hotel

On one of my early trips to Nashville I met up with my friend, Arlene. I had originally made contact with her in about 2005 through MySpace and we first met face to face in 2007 during my first trip to Nashville. The following year she took me down to see the Opryland Hotel. This is a huge complex and is very grand inside. There are shops, grand hallways with massive, floor-to-ceiling, murals on the walls of some of them, grand staircases and beautiful tiled or carpeted floors. The mural depict scenes of Nashville in times past.

Many of the bedrooms are overlooking their indoor garden, a massive atrium, covered by a glass roof … like a huge conservatory. It has waterfalls and cascades, beautiful flowers and ferns, and there are multi-level walkways throughout. We spent several hours looking round the place, enjoying it.

Just three years later, in 2010, the whole area was badly damaged by the worst floods that Nashville had ever known. When the Cumberland River topped the flood barriers, after cresting at nearly 52 feet above normal, it inundated the hotel and the atrium with ten feet of water. It took about eighteen months for the restoration work to be fully completed, though the hotel did reopen six months later.

http://gadling.com/2011/08/23/after-the-flood-nashvilles-rebuilt-gaylord-opryland-hotel/

My Red Coat is still travelling

These are just some of the highlights that spring to mind about the adventures of my much travelled red coat. There are many more untold tales and I’m sure there will be more to come, but this is all for now. Feel free to add any comments you wish or if you have any questions, please ask.

I just missed Hurricane Matthew

I just missed Hurricane Matthew

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On October the 4th 2016 I flew into Orlando International airport, missing Hurricane Matthew by just two days. Of course, when I booked my trip I had no idea that there would be a hurricane at all while I was in the States. I had chosen to fly in October rather than the beginning of September, partly due to another hurricane forecast.  This was for Hurricane Hermine, a category 1 hurricane, which became the first to make landfall for eleven years.

Hurricane Matthew was forecast to be a bad one, and so it proved to be. At category 3 at its offshore centre, it was the strongest one to affect the east coast of Florida in eleven years, even though it didn’t quite make landfall. It did, however, travel parallel with the coast, just offshore, causing high winds, storm surges and torrential rain. These combined to cause a lot of damage up the east coast of Florida and into south-east Georgia and South and North Carolina.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Matthew

Most people on the plane I flew in on seemed to be totally unaware of Hurricane Matthew’s approach. I never heard once anyone mention it and I didn’t have the heart to draw it to their attention. It would have only caused them to start worrying about it before they needed to. They’d find out about it soon enough. They would get plenty of advice about how to prepare for it, after they had landed. Many of them were heading to Disneyland and the people there were used to dealing with hurricanes.

A Change of Plan needed

I had intended to stay two nights in Florida before moving up north. However, my friends, who I had planned to visit early in my trip, were all busy preparing for the arrival of Hurricane Matthew. So I cancelled the second night I’d booked in Sanford, and headed up into Georgia. Fortunately, I booked a room for that night in Macon, GA, before I left.

Arriving in Macon, after a six hour drive, there was not a room to be had anywhere in that area. This was due to the sheer number of people who were evacuating their homes and heading north. I learned next day that, during an evacuation, traffic flow on the south-bound lanes is reversed on the Interstates. This meant there were six lanes of traffic heading north on I-75.

As I was booking in, the hotel receptionist was fielding calls every few minutes from people looking for rooms. She was telling them all the rooms in whole area were fully booked and that their best bet was to head for Atlanta, almost two hours drive further north.

Keeping Track of Hurricane Matthew

In order to keep myself updated about its progress, I regularly watched the ‘Tracking Hurricane Matthew’ news channel. At one point there was a fear that, after it had travelled up the coast, it would circle round over the ocean and come round to hit the Florida coast a second time. I believe this had only happened once before since records had been kept, but fortunately this second hit did not materialise.

The next day, I cut across into Alabama. To continue on up towards Atlanta, my usual route, I risked getting stuck in a traffic jam for hours. I phoned a friend who lives in north Alabama and we arranged to meet up in Fort Payne that evening.  When I arrived, she and her husband treated me to a meal at the Cracker Barrel restaurant. After parting company again, I spent the night at a motel in Rainsville, just six miles further up the road. Then the next day I continued my journey on into Tennessee.

I was glad to learn that all my Florida friends suffered only minor damage to their homes and that they were all safe and sound.

How I met Doc Kazoo

How I met Doc Kazoo

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During my travels to the USA I’ve met so many interesting people. This story is about how I met Doc Kazoo. My meeting with Doc Kazoo came about as the result of a number of extraordinary coincidences, which began in my home town of Nantwich. But first, for those who don’t already know, I will explain what a kazoo is.

What is a kazoo?

A kazoo is a small musical wind instrument, made out of wood or metal. The player hums into it, rather than blowing. It sounds something like the primitive instrument many people used to make in their school days by folding paper over a comb, then putting it to their lips and humming, making a buzzing sound. I’ve since learned that the kazoo is a popular instrument in jug bands, carnival marching bands, folk and ukulele bands, and it is sometimes used in jazz bands.

George with some of his kazoos

George with some of his kazoos

So what is the connection between Doc Kazoo and Nantwich? And how did I come to be meeting him? After all, we live over 4,000 miles apart, me in the UK, and Doc Kazoo in Florida.

This extraordinary chain of events

The extraordinary chain of events that led to our meeting began in Nantwich, at the annual Jazz, Blues and Music Festival during the Easter weekend in 2014. One band I went to see that weekend was called The N’Ukes (short for Nantwich Ukuleles). While watching them, I noticed that one of the players was playing a small wooden instrument which I didn’t recognise. After the band finished their final set, I went up to him and asked him what this instrument was. He told me it was a kazoo.

My curiosity was spiked

Later that evening, when writing up my on-line diary, I looked up the word ‘kazoo’ to check how to spell it. I was also curious to find out more about these intriguing wooden instruments. As I browsed, one particular website caught my eye. It belonged to someone called Doc Kazoo. The thing that particularly caught my attention was a poster on his site. It was advertising The N’Ukes upcoming gig in Audlem, near Nantwich, the following month. Why, I wondered, would someone from Florida be advertising a Nantwich band’s gig in the UK. After all, they were on opposite sides of the Atlantic, with over 4,000 miles of water between them. Intrigued, I researched further.

What I Discovered

I discovered that Doc Kazoo (real name: George Collins) has a small factory, which he calls The Great AsWeGo Kazoo Factory. It is in a workshop alongside his home in Eustis, Florida. Here he makes wooden kazoos and a number of other wooden instruments. It looked fascinating.

Just ten days after making this discovery, I was due to leave for the USA. Looking at the map, I realised that George’s home was only a half-hour drive from Sanford, where I was going to be staying for the first part of my trip.

I like to keep my journeys short during my first few days, giving me time to get over jet lag. However, a week earlier, I’d found I was going to have some free time the day after my arrival. The person I’d hoped to visit that day wasn’t well and had called off my visit to her. So, before leaving England, knowing that I would have these few hours spare, I contacted George, asking if I could come and visit him. He replied, saying that I was welcome. He gave me his address and phone number, and sent me some pictures to help me find his place. As it gets too hot for him to work later in the day, he suggested that I get there before 11am. So, on a sunny April day, I found myself driving to his place.

Finding Doc Kazoo’s Home

My GPS (SatNav) led me to his home and I could easily recognise which gateway to turn into from the pictures he’d sent me. I turned into a long, tree-lined, dirt driveway, which opened out onto large grassy meadow. As I pulled up I saw his factory, or workshop, on my right. It looked like a large garage, blue-grey in colour, with wide double-doors. It was situated a couple of hundred yards from his house, which I could see further up the driveway. The doors of his workshop were wide open, so, after parking my car, I went over and called his name. George came breezing out and gave me a hearty welcome, ushering me inside.

Doc Kazoo's Workshop

Doc Kazoo’s Workshop

His workshop was crammed full of tools. Racks, holding lengths of wood in different colours, lined one wall. Kazoos, some completed, some part-made, were on small racks on the work benches. Various other wooden instruments were around the work place. The fragrance from all the different types of woods filled the air.

George showed me round before giving me a demonstration of how he makes these kazoos. He first chooses the right piece of wood, then carves out the basic shape before proceeding to hollow it out and shape it. He has created his own design of reed for them, using small pieces of plastic from carrier bags obtained from one particular supermarket. After a lot of experimenting, he had found that the plastic used in these particular bags gives the best sound.

The link with Nantwich

Talking to him, as he showed me round, I found out about his connection with The N’Ukes. I discovered that the kazoo that I’d seen being played in Nantwich was one that he had made. In fact, he had made several for that band. These included some that they would be selling at the Audlem festival to raise money for the charities they were supporting.

George gets orders for his kazoos from people all over the world. For everyone who wants it, he makes a video of their own kazoo being made, which he then ships to them with their order. The video camera he uses to film his work is one designed for underwater use. It’s the only type that will keep the ever-present wood dust out of the workings.

Most of the kazoos he makes are made to order, but he keeps a few ready for impromptu sales. I bought one of them as a memento of my visit. I also took quite a few photos of George and his workshop to show my friends when I returned home.

After he’d finished showing me round his workshop, he showed me his small vegetable garden. It is between his workshop and another building. It is fully enclosed to keep the rabbits from eating his lettuces and radishes, and the other crops he grows for himself and his wife, Lynette Auberjeunois. I was sorry not to have been able to meet Lynette, as she was asleep at the time. She is a composer and flute instructor and she does much of her composing during the night, which is why she sleeps during the day.

George the Photographer

George is also a very keen photographer. His speciality is taking photos of the wonderful sunrises, sunsets and cloud formations, as seen from his home. He also photographs his animals, visiting birds and his neighbours’ horses. Some photos are aerial shots he takes using his drone-mounted camera. Many of his photos are on his Facebook page.

He also told me about his time in the navy, part of which he spent stationed in Scotland, and how he managed to get his own van shipped there, and back, by the navy.

A couple of hours later, we bade each other farewell, saying we hoped to meet again some day.

My second meeting with Doc Kazoo

The following year, in September 2015, he welcomed me back again. My visit was a surprise to him as, although I had tried to phone him beforehand, I’d failed to reach him. It turned out that this was because I had one digit wrong for his phone number. Anyway, as I was going to be passing close to his home, I decided to drop by on the off-chance he was there. Fortunately for me, I got there in time to catch him before he had to leave to take his dog to the vet. He gave me a warm welcome, as before.

Since my previous visit, he’d updated the design of the kazoo reeds. He gave me some to bring back to the UK, both for myself and for Barry, the N’Ukes’ kazoo player. It was good to see George again and we had over an hour together before I had to resume my journey and he had to head for the vets.

I am so glad to have gained George as another friend to add to my ever-growing list of friends on the US side of the pond.

Line dancing in Sanford

Line dancing in Sanford

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During my first visit to Sanford, I met up with three local line dancing teachers who I had been in touch with by e-mail for some months before coming to Sanford. They were all teaching line dancing classes at The Barn in Sanford, FL.

Back in 2005, I had choreographed a dance to Tennessee Birdwalk, which was Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan’s biggest hit song. I had asked one of the dance teachers, Janis Graves, if she would be kind enough teach my dance during my visit and she had agreed to do so.

Springing my Surprise

All along my plan had been to get Jack and Misty to come and see my dance. With some difficulty, I managed to persuade them to join me at The Barn one evening … just to come and watch what line dancing was like. Jack and Misty had known about my dance ever since I had choreographed it, but they had never seen it being danced.

They had no idea about my arrangement with Janice, and when they heard their song start to play, their faces were a picture as it dawned on them what I had planned. They told me that they loved the dance, and Misty even had a go at dancing it, even though she is not a line dancer. Her forté, when she was younger, was tap dancing.

During those few days in Sanford, I attended the classes of all three of these teachers. I was surprised to find how many of the dances they were doing were ones that I already knew. I guess the international sharing of top favourite dances in the linedance magazines, and by the choreographers who toured the world, had a lot to do with that. Many other dances they were doing were ones that I found easy to follow and, of course, they taught a few new dances during their classes too. The classes were well attended and I made several new friend there.

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