If You're Ever In Tulsa, Look Me Down

If You're Ever In Tulsa, Look Me Down

ELEGANZA

by

Billy Altman

As I collapsed on my bed in a drunken stupor in room 1433 of the Mayo hotel at 5:30 a.m. on the 5th of November in Tulsa, Oklahoma (a long ways from the comforting neurotica of my New York neighborhood, but such is the heartwarming hospitality of the great Southwest that the hotel management had provided—free of charge—a thoughtful reminder of home; upon entering my suite for the first time the previous afternoon, I opened the door to the bathroom and was welcomingly greeted by a huge waterbug swimming around merrily in the toilet. And when I say huge, I mean huge—Houdini, as I named him after I kept flushing the toilet only to have him float back up and out each time, could easily have taken the three hundred roaches that used to live underneath my kitchen sink in a Polish stretcher match with one antenna tied behind his back), I wondered if what I had witnessed just a few hours before was a hallucination, a vision of lunacy so in line with my general outlook on things that perhaps it never really occurred. There I was in Cain’s ballroom, the Oklahoma home of the late Bob Wills, and on the stage was Roy Qark smashed completely out of his Pringle’s Potato Chip mind (did you know that the other chip companies were so successful in their anti-artificial ingredient campaign against the newfangled, unbreakable ’tater discovery that Pringle’s has had to introduce a “hearty, country-styled” version which proudly states that no chemicals or artificial ingredients are used? Still tastes like fried sawdust, but) what the hell.'.'.), playing the same four Ernest Tubb songs over and over and over in front of a devoted and deranged audience of thirty-odd slobbering maroons—myself included, of course; I’m a Roy Clark man from way back—until the makeshift jam band behind him ^could take no rpore and left him alone out there, and damned if he didn’t keep going for another half hour until four of his business pals finally had to literally disconnect his guitar and Roy started adjusting the volume knobs on his axe, looking perplexed at the machine’s apparent malfunctioning. I could see the headlines in the next week’s National Enquirer:, THE NIGHT j THEY PULLED THE PLUG ON ROY CLARK. With, of course, a doctored photo of Roy lying in a coma somewhere and Hee 'Haw crony Junior Samples bawling into his bandanna while Buck Owens searched for the socket on the wall.

Just what on earth I was doing in Tulsa is, I guess, a fair question. Your correspondent was invited to attend this year’s Tulsa International Music Festival, a three day bash that country music macha Jim Halsey puts on every annum in order to promote his giant roster of acts. I can’t really say that I saw all that much of -Tulsa, since there seemed to be an awful lot of booze around for what is called, in the vernacular of our times, a “dry” state; The one day that I managed to crawl out of the hotel and onto the streets under hny own power (buses took us everywhere we had to go) revealed lots of malls, with concrete benches and foliage and little fbuntains and plenty of healthy-looking people and posters advertising the up-and-coming Gun show. Suffice to say that every time I spotted a wino or a derelict meandering through the cobblestoned walkways, I suppressed a huge cheer.'

In no particular order, then— sequence of events got a bit foggy after the first hour in town, because by that time me, John Morthland, R. Meltzer and Rex Wiener had already polished off our gift bottles of red wine, compliments of Mr/ Clark; what a magnanimous guy! —here are selected highlights of what our gang of four has fondly pledged to forever refer to as . “The Sooner Caper or Moisture at the Edge of Town”!

The Oak Ridge Boys’ incredible set during the Saturday Night cavalcade of stars. The O.R.B.’s used to be a gospel band and they went secular two years ago and have quickly established themselves as not only the logical successors to the country singing quartet throne vacated by the Statler Brothers awhile back when they did “Class of ’57” but a potential Four Dog Night for the 80’s. Sayeth Mr. Meltzer: “They can’t1 miss on the pop charts— more different hairstyles in this band than in any other comparable crooning outfit.” I couldn’t agree more. “I’ll Be 1 True To You,” which was on their next to last album, is a perfect example of the Oak Ridge Boys at their best; the Association meeting the Chi-Lites. Every time the bass singer (a Bobby DeNiro ringer) sang Anything solo, females from 8 to 80 screamed orgasmically. Word has it that these guys get more action than most touting rock bands, and as they left the stage, I saw three different girls throwing crumpled pieces of paper at them. Besides, their piano player, Garland, has Handsome Dick Manitoba beat by a mile in regard to adapting wrestling techniques to the musical stage. He comes out dressed in a sequined outfit, complete with matching cape, removes half of his clothing from his‘ hefty .frame without ever missing the beat once, gtowls at the audience in fine Maniac Tolos tradition and is, on the whole, one of the more awe-inspiring presences in popdom.

My conversation with Dick Howard, who used to work with Jack Goode and is now the Halsey organization’s VP in charge of television projects, in which I learned exactly why P. J. Proby was fired from the Shindig show. (Sorry, my lips are sealed.)

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ELEGANZA

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Dinner one night with Jana Jae sitting atrthe next table. The menu was' authentic American Indian and the entreewas buffalo ragout, which resulted in a well worn trail on the carpet leading from the dining room to the bathroom. My proximity to the former Mrs. Buck Owens, however, made the meal a delightful one—the Joan Collins of country music was not only the hottest thing to feast one’s eyes on all weekend but also plays a mean fiddle and hung in there with Roy Clark throughout most of the Tubb jam; she gets the trooper award for picking up the vocals on “Diggy Diggy Lo” when Roy forgot what town he was in for a few minutes.

Morthland trying to hide his face in his deep dish apple pie when he was introduced at the Country Music magazine awards luncheon.

Meltzer being told to please shut up when he was drowning out Halsey introducing the Governor of Oklahoma at the opening night ceremonies.

A TV show on Sunday morning that had this old bookstore owner reading from books for a half an hour while the camera looked over his shoulder. Included were passages from the dictionary and selected photos and captions from a book on great edifices down through the ages. Our host’s final words: “The more you read, the taller you grow.” Right on.

Ray Price’s shoes.

George “Goober” Lindsey’s monologue at the Saturday night concert. Plenty of jokes about his yokel buddy Sappo and the weekendVbest punch line: a woman from the back of the auditorium runs all the way to the stage to kiss the Goob, and, as she makes hef way back to her seat, the spotlight following her all the wayu Goob blurts out: “Oh, by the way, I’ve got herpes.”