Tag: 1960s Rock Music

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Repost From PowerPop…An Eclectic Collection of Pop Culture


The A.T.N.T. Cobblestone Street

A friend of mine in the blogverse is a music historian. Max Gower has a blog on WordPress called PowerPop An Eclectic Collection of Pop Culture. Max and me have been trading emails and post for over two years and I greatly enjoy his side trips into the 60s music scene covering bands that maybe weren’t all that well known. Max has been writing about Texas rock music for a while now and found a few old interviews I gave many moons ago. I appreciate the shout out and hope you all enjoy his post as much as I do. Thanks again, Max.

A few weeks ago I posted about Mouse and the Traps, a Texas band formed in the 1960s. I thought my fellow blogger friend Phil from Notes from the Cactus Patch may have known them. He did…. so I thought…I would like to write about Phil’s 1960s band. I first heard of Phil from Hanspostcard… he sent me THIS link to Phil’s post about meeting John Sebastian in Texas in the sixties along with the other Lovin Spoonful. He also briefly met Janis Joplin when she cut the food line at the Texas International Pop Festival.  ” I survived one-hundred-degree temperatures for three days and got to meet Janis Joplin one late night when this nice gal with a Texas twang asked me if she could cut in line as I was waiting to buy a hot dog. It took a minute for me to realize it was her, but I was cool; it was the sixties, man. That night, ole Janis “took a little piece of my heart, now baby.”

I’m get most of the info from this post. I urge you to read that because he tells a more complete story.  Phil’s Dad, Johnny Strawn played with the Light Crust Doughboys so Phil was surrounded by music when he grew up. He went through a few bands on the way. He formed his first band in 1964 and they were called The Dolphins and in late 65 they became The Orphans. The Orphans lasted until 1967 and the members were Johnny Strawn, vocals and lead guitar –  Jarry Davis, vocals and rhythm guitar-  Danny Goode, lead vocals and bass –  Marshall Sartain, vocals and keyboards- Barry Corbett, drums and vocals.

The music they played was all over the place and everything that kept people on the dance floor.  The music they played was Soul Music, Beatles, Bee Gees, Rascals, Hendrix, Doors, Steppenwolf, Cream, Stones, Vanilla Fudge, and Jefferson Airplane.  They played all over Texas and parts of Oklahoma…and some of the clubs he mentioned were The Studio Club, LuAnn’s, Strawberry Fields, Phantasmagoria, The Cellar, The Box, and more. This was when three of the band were still in high school. 

Phil Strawn:  We used to do a lot of double bills at The Studio Club and LuAnn’s; that was a big thing back then. I remember playing a lot of them with Southwest F.O.B. We were playing at LuAnn’s one weekend when during the Jimi Hendrix song Fire, our drummer put lighter fluid on his cymbals, lit his drum sticks, then hit the cymbals and ignited them. It got a little out of hand and it burned up his drums. That kind of stuff wouldn’t fly nowadays, but back then, we didn’t think of the repercussions. The crowd loved it, sort of like The Who, only with real fire and smoke. Miss Lou Ann was not pleased and banned us from the club for about six months. We eventually worked our way back into her good graces. Ron Chapman the famous DJ on KLIF and KVIL remembered us as the band that nearly burned down LuAnn’s. Some legacy.

They met a guy named Mark Lee who became their manager. After they signed with him their gigs increased. They even opened up for Iron Butterfly at a place called Strawberry Fields. The Orphans committed a cardinal sin by learning an Iron Butterfly song called Possession and nailed it while opening for Iron Butterfly. Lee put them up to it because he knew it would get under Iron Butterfly’s skin…and it did! They ended up swiping Phil’s Vox Wah Wah pedal and a velvet Nehru suit from their drummer. 

In 1968 they had to change their name. The drummer, Barry Corbett, had a friend, Jerry Deaton who wanted to manage them but they were happy with Mark Lee. The guy went out and had “The Orphans” copyrighted and told the band he would sue them if they continued so they changed their name. Phil said: “We liked ATNT {Alice talks “n” talks} and Jerry’s mother was the inspiration for that name. Later, we found out that he had managed another band called the Orphans for a while, so that was the reason for all the drama. He copyrighted the name so we had to change.”

Check out this 1968 Flower Fair entertainment. ATNT played and look at the other artists as well. Spencer Davis, Jimmy Reed, Mitch Ryder, The Lemon Pipers, and Neil Diamond. The Doors were going to play but they had scheduling conflicts. 

ATNT Scedule

In 1966 they recorded a song that Phil wrote called “Leader of My Mind” which was a Byrds-type song with harmonica but no one can find any copies. In 1968 they recorded two songs called “No One Told Me About Her” with the flipside Cobblestone Street. 

They also did a couple of appearances on Mark Stevens TV Show which they lipsynced to their songs. Phil quit in the late sixties because of a disagreement with the rhythm guitar player. He had to make a choice and his final exams were coming up and Phil decided to study rather than just practice with the band. 

After that, Phil said he didn’t play much until around 1974 when he started to play in the progressive country music scene in Austin and Dallas. I played with various people around town and some in south Texas and did some pick-up and studio work. I joined the Trinity River Band in late ’79 and played with them until ’85. I also played with The Light Crust Doughboys from time to time and did some studio work on the five-string banjo. I was fortunate to play on the Light Crust Doughboys album, ” One Hundred-Fifty Years of Texas Music.” 

The A.T.N.T. Discogs page. 

Phil Strawn: The A side is “Cobblestone Street,” written and sung by myself and our drummer Barry Corbett. The B side is ” No One Told Me About Her,” written and sung by our lead singer and bass player, Danny Goode. The two producers, Marvin Montgomery and Artie Glenn, suggested we add horns to get a Chicago Transit Authority sound. Before the brass was added, Cobblestone Street was loud and raw with loud guitars and organs. After adding the horns, we returned to the studio and tweaked the cuts. I purposely untuned my Gibson 335 a bit to give the guitar break a bit of an out-of-tune carnival sound. Marvin, who went by the name of Smokey, was a member of the Light Crust Doughboys since the 1930s and played with Bob Wills. He produced Paul and Paula and Delbert McClinton. Artie Glenn wrote the famous Elvis hit “Crying In The Chapel” and many others; he was also a Light Crust Doughboy western swing musician. These two men were top-shelf record producers, so we listened when they suggested

Phil Strawn: It was absolutely the best time of my life. How could you not enjoy being a teenager in the ’60s and playing in a popular rock band? The people we met and played with, the experience that we will all carry with us the rest of our lives. It was just a part of life that helped shape us into what we are now – being part of that change in our country, that decade. It was a time of turmoil, but it was also the last year of the innocence we grew up with. Teenagers these days are so hardened. The music then was happy and said a lot. It would move you, whether you played it or danced to it. The music now has a meaner, harder edge, and reflects the times we live in.

Phil Strawn: I am a project manager in commercial construction, and do a lot of painting and artwork – mostly Texas art. After 35 years, Danny Goode, who I played with in ATNT and the Orphans, called me and asked me to be part of their group, The American Classics. I joined them about two years ago and that’s what we do nowadays. The band consists of Danny Goode, bass and lead vocals; John Payne, lead guitar and keyboards; Jordan Welch, drums; and me on rhythm guitar and vocals. We play about once a month or so around Dallas Fort Worth, mostly private parties. We recently played in Deep Ellum, and will probably be back down there soon. We stick to mostly ’60s music – it’s what we know well. It’s good to still be playing rock music at this age. You really never outgrow it.

I love the horns in this song but I would also love to hear what it sounded like with loud guitars as well. 

…

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Author: Badfinger (Max)

Power Pop fan, Baseball, Beatles, old movies, and tv show fan. Also anything to do with pop culture in the 60s and 70s… I’m also a songwriter, bass and guitar player. View all posts by Badfinger (Max)AuthorBadfinger (Max)Posted onCategories1960s, Bands, Garage, Music, SinglesTagsA.T.N.T., Cobblestone Street, Phil Strawn

39 thoughts on “A.T.N.T. – Cobblestone Street”

  1. Pingback: A.T.N.T. – Cobblestone Street – MobsterTiger
  2. Carl Benson, Jr.says:What a ‘bill’ that was! I would’ve gone to see Mitch Ryder & his band & Neil Diamond.Liked by 2 peopleReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:It does sound like a great one. That was the time to grow up for music…LikeReply
      1. Carl Benson, Jr.says:Ya’, I was 4 years old then or going on 4 but I have always loved that era of ‘Pop’ music. I love that debate on what decade was the best & the 60’s are up there…I think the 80’s myself, but I’m biased lol.Liked by 1 person
      2. Badfinger (Max)says:I was weird Carl…I grew up in the 80s….turned 13 in 1980…I didn’t like the synth stuff and the fake drums….they still drive me up the wall… I was mostly listening to the 60s during the 80s….Now…thats not to say that I don’t like many songs from the 80s….I liked the Heartland Rockers like Mellencamp, Springsteen, Petty, and others…along with The Replacements, REM and Prince….in other words…bands and artists with guitars!Liked by 1 person
      3. Carl Benson, Jr.says:Awesome…I think that I mentioned before that when I was a kid my Dad was in the music business when after we moved to Ft. Wayne in ’67 & my little brother was born later in that year. Both of my parents were college graduates from ’63 & ’64 so they were hip parents. They put a radio & a television in my brother & I’s room (bunk beds) so we could chose what we wanted to watch & hear. He had a television show on what became the PBS station which was a 1-hour music show (R&B) & he & a fraternity brother owned a nightclub & were managing groups. So I got to hear a lot of R&B as a young kid & meet some of those folks who did his show. But, I always had an earl for ‘Pop’ music & when we moved to Idaho in ’74 my buddies were into the other side of ‘Pop’ & of course guitar based ‘Rock & Roll’. I graduated from high school in ’82 & had been listening to a lot of 60’s music (& funk) my jr. & sr. years & then I got the bug for synthetic dance ‘New Wave’ music. Thompson Twins, The Human League, The Talking Heads, The Tom Tom Club, The B-52’s etc., I was always a ‘Minneapolis Sound’ dude. I always heard from my musician friends that they hated ‘Tech’ back then with the electronic drums & stuff & I can appreciate that Max. I generally loved the ‘Moog’ sound then…I was into dancing back then.Liked by 1 person
      4. Badfinger (Max)says:See I liked The Talking Heads and The B-52s…so there were a few I liked…yea the Minnesota sound was huge…Prince, The Replacements and others came out of there.
        Also Carl…it’s normal for teens to like the era they grow up in….so like I said…I was wierd…I liked the timeless sound.
        You grew up in the perfect time Carl! You got to experience the best of the 60s – 80s in real time! Plus your parents sound great dude.Liked by 1 person
      5. Carl Benson, Jr.says:Ya’, I remember that they had ‘hippie’ friends that were white folks before we moved to Idaho when I was 10 in ’74. My little brother & I had an unusual childhood for a couple of black kids in our era Max. That’s why my musical tastes are so eclectic Max.Liked by 2 people
      6. Badfinger (Max)says:And that is a great thing Carl! I think it’s rewarding to be eclectic.Liked by 2 people
      7. Carl Benson, Jr.says:Dig it Max…you too…sometimes it is…lol.Liked by 1 person
  3. newepicauthorsays:One of your longer posts Max and I thought it was interesting learning about this obscure group.Liked by 1 personReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:Yes I usually don’t go this long but Phil was in some interesting spots and bands. He knew a lot of those Texas bands that did have some hits…plus I was in one of those local bands two decades later…heck…may do mine one day!Liked by 1 personReply
  4. glyn40wiltonsays:Light Crust Doughboys was a great name for a band. I liked the list of the groups they played songs of in their set.Liked by 1 personReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:Thanks Glyn…they were a country band legend.Liked by 1 personReply
  5. Davesays:Great post Max! It’s so cool that one of our online friends has such a great musical history. I’ve heard that ‘Cobblestone Street’ before…it’s very ’60s but very agreeable. Sounds very British Invasion to me, I wouldn’t have pegged it as being from Texas. Phil makes a good point about how rock, and teens, then were so much more optimistic than nowadays.
    Phil, good job and if you have the b-side, hope you let us hear it!Liked by 2 peopleReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:I loved when they opened for Iron Butterfly and then played one of their songs! LOL. That takes guts and I’m glad they did it.LikeReply
    2. obbversesays:Agree with all you say here Dave. And I really do believe for a lot of the kids teen years (these days) are more a journey of joy and learning than a rite of passage.Liked by 1 personReply
    3. obbversesays:Sorry Dave, less joy, more passage! Doh! (Note to self; Proof read, O.)Liked by 1 personReply
  6. randydafoesays:Well I knew a bit of Phil’s musical past and this post is a great enhancement. I agree with Dave on that British Invasion sound for sure.Liked by 1 personReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:I played 2 decades later but I can relate to this…I mean every successful band usually starts out like this…sometimes it just works out but most of the time it doesn’t as far as the big time….but it keeps music alive in communities across the globe with local bands….yes it’s very sixties.Liked by 1 personReply
      1. randydafoesays:Yes I am sure this is very close to home for you. I probably mentioned by oldest brother is a bass player and while he did play with some recording artists he never ended up on one himself. He has played in bands for over 50 years and still does, but he does it for himself, because he loves it. So these stories are in some ways a vicarious look that scene.Liked by 1 person
      2. Badfinger (Max)says:I tell people…once you learn music you keep it for the rest of your life. You don’t have to be famous…but no one can take it away from you. The only recording artist I played on the same bill with? The Royal Guardsman in the late 80s early 90s…lol…but hey it still counts! Our claim to fame was outdrawing Richard Sterban (singer for the Oak Ridge Boys) at a theater….we played a week later….lol.Liked by 2 people
      3. randydafoesays:Hey you take what you can get Max!Liked by 2 people
      4. obbversesays:Max mentioning the Royal Guardsmen- Christmas and ‘Snoopy’s Christmas’ must be on the horizon!Liked by 1 person
      5. Badfinger (Max)says:It’s gotta be! I never thought of posting that one…but I must now.Liked by 1 person
  7. obbversesays:Love these ‘I was there’ bits of history. Phil sure got around, and what a great decade to grow up in. And as for Phil- letting Janis grab what should have been his hot dog, rubbing shoulders with John S, rubbing Mike Love the wrong way- great stories.Liked by 1 personReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:Yes they are… I can’t imagine meeting those people especially Janis…he said she was really tiny in person…
      Opening up for Iron Butterfly…pretty cool and having your wah wah pedal stolen by their crew…not cool!Liked by 1 personReply
      1. obbversesays:Well, with Iron Butterfly, they weren’t exactly your easy-going peace love and pass the reefer 60s band, or so I’d imagine, going by their sound. (PS, I’ll be mentioning ‘Snoopy’s Christmas’ in an upcoming musically related post soon. Music and Christmas carols based? Yes. Harmonious and in the best spirit of Christmas? Nooooo.)Liked by 1 person
      2. Badfinger (Max)says:Cool… I will soon echo Snoopy…
        I would not expect any other from you…I would be quite dissapointed if you showed too much cheer…obbverse sellout? Never.Liked by 1 person
  8. cincinnatibabyheadsays:I’ll echo Dave and say “Great post”. Phil covers a lot of territory (He’s from Texas. Makes sense). I’m sure I could spend an evening hanging with Phil and be entertained on a lot of levels. Lots I like, his sense of humor not the least. Enjoying the listen. Blue ribbon post Max and PhilLiked by 1 personReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:Thanks CB…it’s much longer than I wanted but to get everything in it had to be. Hanging out with Phil for a while would be really cool.Liked by 1 personReply
  9. Christian’s Music Musingssays:It sounds like Phil Strawn has met many interesting artists and has some intriguing stories to tell. “The Cobblestone Stone Street” is a great song. Perhaps not surprisingly, I had never heard of A.T.N.T. before.Liked by 1 personReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:Yea…Phil has some great stories… his story about meeting the Lovin Spoonful is great…and opening up for Iron Butterfly was really cool as well.Liked by 1 personReply
  10. Phil Strawnsays:Max, thank you for the great write up and kind words. It does my old heart good to hear from so many of your followers that dig the 60s sound. I happened to be in the right place at that time and it all fell into place. My friend, Danny Goode who I played with back in the 60s and again in the 2000s lives in Granbury too. We hung up the axes in 2019 after a 19-year run with The American Classics Band, doing much of the same music we played back in “the day.” Thanks again, Max.Liked by 2 peopleReply
    1. Badfinger (Max)says:Phil, I just hope I got it mostly right for you. I want to thank you for letting me do it. I had a good time writing it. We might not have been in huge bands that had a lot of hits, but we entertained a lot of people and that is what matters plus the the adventures we got out of it. Thanks again, Phil.Liked by you and 1 other personReply
      1. Phil Strawnsays:You are welcome kind sir. We all have to admit that after doing live shows for a while, it brings out the hambone in all of us. I can’t recall a time that I was nervous onstage except the time my Fender amp blew a fuse and I didn’t have a spare, now that was scary.Liked by 1 person
      2. Badfinger (Max)says:I wasn’t nervous either except for my first gig but it went away quickly. THAT would be scary. Our lead guitar player’s amp went out so I plugged him into mine and we shared…not a great sound…but the show went on.Like
  11. Nancy Homlitassays:Your music bio of Phil Strawn was a thoroughly enjoyable read, Max. Of course, I’m partial to 60’s music and can appreciate how good “Cobblestone Street” is compared to other songs in that genre. You did a good job making Phil appear to be a focused and serious musician. We both know he’s a crazy fun-loving hoot! 🙂LikeReply
  12. Aphoristicalsays:I like the Iron Butterfly story!Liked by 1 personReply

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Would You Paint Over A Rembrandt?


Recently, the saltwater faction of the Strawn clan—my son Wes, his wife Yolli, and grandsons Jett, hired a friend, local artist Jenn Seymour, to paint a mural on their backyard canal bulkhead in North Padre Island, Texas. My oldest grandson, Johnathon, now resides in Corpus, and my granddaughter, Madalyn, was on hand to bolster everyone’s spirits. It’s not their first venture into suburban art; another famous local Corpus Christi mural artist and surfer, John Olvey, painted a large surf mural on their home’s streetside view before he passed away in 2022. Now, the POA, HOA, or whatever this group of whiners calls themselves these days, served my son a letter of violation and demanded the mural be painted over, claiming it is an advertising sign, which is prohibited per their bylaws. The word ‘serve’ is a stretch; they actually taped it to his nice mid-century modern front door, “too yellar” to actually hand it to them in person. I don’t believe this coterie of malcontents thought this one out. Now, it’s taken on its own life form and is spreading like “Pod People.”

The artwork in question is paintings of the covers of the most classic albums in rock music history: Led Zepplin, Jimi Hendrix, ZZ Top, The Beatles, Bob Marley, The Rolling Stones, Willie Nelson, Selena, Nirvana, and a few others. We picked the albums from his extensive collection, and the artist did her magic aided by acrylic paint, Petoli incense, Red Bull, and 1960s good vibrations. Folks from all over the island, Corpus, and far-away lands have made a pilgrimage by boat, foot, and car to view the masterpieces. Wes and Yolli, being gracious hosts, offer a cold bottle of Texas water and a bite of food and lead them through their home to the backyard bulkhead and dock for a better view of the art. Piper, their border collie, happily greets everyone.

The wheels of justice turned quickly when the downtrodden art connoisseurs were wronged. Within a few days, the local paper, The Island Moon, published a rousing piece praising the artwork and exposing the troglodytic POA. One local television station, KRIS, dispatched a top-notch reporter to shoot film and interview Wes, his kin, the artist Jen Seymour, and Piper, the Border Collie. Momo and I spectated the whole shindig from the covered patio and were mightily entertained by the publicity of the whole affair.

This is the last surface in the compound suitable for decoration. So what now? Maybe three large Mariachis playing frogs on the roof? It could happen…it’s the island.

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It’s 1968, And We Are In A Recording Studio


By request, I am again publishing this post, including my 1968 recording of the band I was part of, The A.T.N.T.; formally, we were the Orphans but changed our name at the suggestion of Mark Lee Productions, our manager. Enjoy.

The year was 1968, and the rock band I played in, The A.T.N.T., recorded a 45 at Summit Sounds in Dallas, Texas. The band had been called The Orphans, but a copywriting dispute resulted in a name change. Our then-manager, Mark Lee Productions, wasn’t keen on the idea because we had been under his management and promotion for a year.

The A side is “Cobblestone Street,” written and sung by myself and our drummer Barry Corbett. The B side is ” No One Told Me About Her,” written and sung by our lead singer and bass player, Danny Goode. The two producers, Marvin Montgomery and Artie Glenn, suggested we add horns to get a Chicago Transit Authority sound. Before the brass was added, Cobblestone Street was loud and raw with loud guitars and organs. After adding the horns, we returned to the studio and tweaked the cuts. I purposely untuned my Gibson 335 a bit to give the guitar break a bit of an out-of-tune carnival sound. Marvin, who went by the name of Smokey, was a member of the Light Crust Doughboys since the 1930s and played with Bob Wills. He produced Paul and Paula and Delbert McClinton. Artie Glenn wrote the famous Elvis hit “Crying In The Chapel” and many others; he was also a Light Crust Doughboy western swing musician. These two men were top-shelf record producers, so we listened when they suggested.

The A.T.N.T. at Flower Fair 1968

Our band members in the above picture are: foreground right John P. Strawn ( me ), then Jarry Davis on rhythm guitar, Barry Corbett on drums, Danny Goode on bass, and Marshall Sartin on keyboards. Barry and Marshall have passed on, but Danny, Jarry, myself, and our wives met for lunch a few weeks back in Fort Worth. It’s obvious why we all have severe hearing loss from the large amplifiers turned up to 11.

We introduced the songs at Flower Fair 1968 but without the horns. The Doors were supposed to play the event, but last-minute scheduling got sideways, and they couldn’t make it. This was the Spencer Davis Group without Steve Wynwood in the band. LeCirque ( The Smell Of Incense Fills The Air ) was formally known as The Southwest F.O.B. with members England Dan and John Ford Coley, who would later go on to fame as a duo, both local Texas boys. Kenny and the Kasuals were also a local group managed by Mark Lee.

The record received good airplay, but we never made much money. Distribution was the key, although the local radio personalities gave it positive chatter. Hope you enjoy the tunes.

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“Getting Zapped…Brown Shoes Don’t Make It” And A “Beach Party On The Ganges”


It would be a shame if I didn’t include some local 1960s rock musical history by spotlighting our drummer, Barry Corbett, otherwise known in our tight little musical circle as ” Li’l Spector.” The moniker came about because the boy, at age 15 years old, was a musical genius in the same vein as Brian Wilson, Leonard Bernstein, and Phil Spector: thus his earned nickname. We would never know why he chose the drums as his primary instrument: the guy played an assortment, including Bongo drums, kazoo, paper and comb, Dog House bass, violin, Hurdy Gurdy, guitar, keyboards, Vibes, Trumpet, Piccolo, Harmonica, Juice-Harp, Spoons, Autoharp, Dulcimer, French Horn, Tabla, finger cymbals, gasoline-powered Lawnmower, and Sitar. I’ve probably left a few out; it’s been a while since I thought about this. Barry’s original drums were worn out, so his father purchased him a set of Slingerlands. The finish was all swirling and psychedelic, and if we wore those cheesy 3D glasses from 7-Eleven, we could see the Summer of Love a full year before it happened.

In 1966, our repertoire consisted of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Hollies, Paul Revere And The Raiders, The Turtles, and The Byrds. We also played a handful of Beach Boy songs. Our voices were still high, so the Brian Wilson falsetto wasn’t a problem.

The 1966 Orphans in our Paul Revere boots

Unknown to Jarry and I, Barry secretly listened to weird underground music: “Frank Zappa And The Mothers of Invention.” These guys were so whacked out that the radio refused to play them, but Barry would. He adored Zappa and wouldn’t wear brown shoes in brotherhood to the song ” Brown Shoes Don’t Make It.” He was also a newbie-semi-devout disciple of East Indian music, mainly Ravi Shankar and his droning Sitar, thanks to George Harrison and the album Rubber Soul.

We knew Barry had purchased a Sitar from “Pier One,” a Dallas specialty store loved by the Hippies. The store hawked strange goods from India and the Middle East. He called one day and asked that Jarry and myself drop by to hear him play his sitar.

We were surprised when he could coax the part to “Norwegian Wood” out of the goofy instrument, so we agreed to learn the song and let him play it during our next gig at the Richardson Recreation Center the coming Saturday evening. He failed to mention that he had two additional musicians accompany him. He was a tinkerer, so he removed the electric pickups from his Gibson Melody Maker guitar and installed them on the sitar, creating the first electric East Indian instrument. Two Electrovoice condenser microphones were used to amplify his additional musicians.

Our gear was set up, and sound checked an hour before the dance, and in strolls Barry, dressed in a Nehru suit: his girlfriend and a guy about Barry’s age in tow. His followers, wearing a white Sari and a Dhoti, trolled behind him: they carried a small bongo-like drum called a Tabla and two tiny Zildjian cymbals on cute little stands. The guy was carrying an instrument that looked like a cross between a fiddle, a guitar, and a Dulcimer. All three had bright red Bindi dots on their foreheads. Barry was lugging his sitar, drum kit, and a Vox AC30 amplifier. After he set up his drums, he ran a sound check on the electric sitar and stuck the other mic inside the Tabla drum, one next to the little cymbals and the frankeninstrument. They sounded pretty good for a Rube Goldberg rigged setup. The three of us were duly impressed but leary of what might happen. Chaos followed Barry like an afternoon shadow.

The band played the first set to about 300 sweaty teenagers. The building’s air conditioning couldn’t keep up: it was a typical July in Texas.

Barry and the two musicians rolled out a Persian rug, which was likely stolen from his mother’s dining room, and positioned it in front of his drums. The girl lighted incense sticks held in large brass holders. Barry lugs his sitar from behind the stage, plugs it into the Vox amp, and sits in the traditional Shankar crossed-legged position. He is ready to rock. We break into Norwegian Wood, and the three-piece Hindi band sounds darn good but a bit loud. The teenagers move in close and surround the trio. Who are these weirdo-freaks? We finished the tune and received polite applause. A better reception than we had hoped for, but then…

For their second tune, Barry announces they will play Ravi Shankers’ biggest hit: “Beach Party On The Ganges,” a snappy little number sounding like Brian Wilson, and the boys meet Ghandi and crew for a cookout on a crocodile-infested beach. The sitar starts to feedback, and the Tabla drummer and Frankenguitar lose their tempo, not that there was one ever established, and Barry, now in a musical trance, is all over the sitar. The crowd of surrounding teens is transfixed, awed by his Zen Zone musicianship. The two other musicians, lost and toasted, have stopped playing. Lil Spector drives onward in his moment of musical adulation.

The Sitar feedback was incredible, so Barry, still locked in his “Ravi sitting position,” leaned back to reduce the volume on his amp. He leans too far, loses his balance, and falls backward, causing the head of his Sitar to catch a mic stand and break off the long body of the instrument. No one knew that Sitar strings were wound to a deathly tension. When the Sitar broke, the strings popped, winding around Barry’s head into his hair and then into his two other musicians’ long hair. It was a disaster. All three were incapacitated on the rug, unable to move. The crowd hooped and hollard, thinking it was part of the show. The poor Sitar wound up in the dumpster, and his musical disciples left the fold, throwing their red-dot makeup tin at Barry as they stormed out of the Rec Center. At his request, we dropped Norwegian Wood from our setlist.

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So You Want To Be A Rock N Roll Star? 1966-67 – Part 2


“So you want to be a rock and roll star?
Then listen now to what I say
Just get an electric guitar
Then take some time and learn how to play”…The Byrds 1967

After the family moved from Fort Worth to Wichita Falls for six painful months and then to Plano, Texas, I met a classmate and fellow guitar player who was also bitten by the “rock-a-rolla” bug. He knew another guy on his block who played guitar and owned a Fender Bassman amp, which automatically made him a band member, and he knew a neighbor across the street who was a drummer with a snare and one cymbal. He also knew a kid with another cheap Japanese guitar that would part with it for $10.00 bucks. I snatched it, bought his Sears amp for another $15.00, and was back in “the biz.” Hours of practice produced twenty songs, which we could repeat at least once or twice if they were shuffled around and changed singers and keys. Our first gig was at the Harrington Park Swimming Pool, Plano, Texas, early summer of 1965.

The Dolphins: left to right: Jarry Boy Davis, Warren Whitworth, Ron Miller, Jay-Roe-Nelson, Phil Strawn

Guitar tuners were not invented yet, so we used a pitch pipe and got as close as possible to A440, and apparently not close enough; we sounded like hammered Racoon crap on grandma’s china plate. It was a humiliating experience. In my playing frenzy, I broke my B string and had to play with five strings, and then our amplifiers went south because the outside temperature was over 100 degrees, and we were in the direct sun. Then, the drummer’s head on his snare split, his cymbal fell over and cracked, and Jerry Nelson, another guitar flanger, tripped on an extension cord and fell flat, damaging his Silvertone guitar. Our third guitar player, Warren, came into contact with water splashed from the pool onto the concrete while touching the strings of his electrified, ungrounded guitar, resulting in a bad electrical shock. Hair frizzed out, smoking from his ears, and burns on his fingers; he finished the gig, not knowing who or where he was. The grand debut ended with sympathetic applause, and the pool manager refused to pay us, which, per our contract, was free burgers and shakes. Warren, our previously electrocuted guitar player, got into a fight with our drummer, and the two rolled around in the gravel parking lot for a while with no clear victor. We thought Warren was a trooper, considering the amount of electricity that had almost fried him an hour before. Bad music tends to piss folks off. The final curtain was when my pal Jarry discovered his Mustang had a flat tire, so we had to call our parents to rescue us. Welcome to the rock n’ roll music business.

From 1966 into 1967, the band continued with better gear, a new drummer and bass player, and a different name. We were now known as “The Orphans.” A strange pick since we were all middle-class guys with full sets of parents, but Barry Corbett, our drummer, thought it sounded tough and a bit rebellious. Barry may have been the biggest rebel of the four members, listening to Frank Zappa and Spike Jones and teaching himself to play the Sitar. George Harrison’s influence led him into the realm of Indian music, which he fully embraced to the point of obsession. He developed a strange Peter Sellers-type accent, wore the red dot on his forehead, and had two high school girls follow him around town wearing white robes, playing with small cymbals attached to their fingers. He was also a rudderless musical genius and would soon lead us into the semi-big time and the really big show.

Alice Davis, Jarry’s mother, was now our official manager and did a wonderful job of it. She knew people and had connections and was not afraid to use them or to press a business contact into hiring her band. We were booked around Dallas and Fort Worth most Friday and Saturday nights. We made some good cash for high school kids but spent all we made on new equipment and clothing. Band members were in constant rotation. Teenage musicians proved to be an unreliable commodity.

Our keyboard and bass player left us for high school football, again, leaving three of us. Calls went out, Alice worked the phones and contacts, and we auditioned two musicians from McKinney, Texas. Danny Goode, a bass player/singer and former member of the Excels, and Marshall Sartin, church organist, classically trained pianist, and blues guitar player. We played a few songs as a five-member band and almost passed out. It was as if the ghost of Phil Spector had brought us into that practice room at this appointed time in the universe, which was strange because Spector was still alive and kicking in Los Angeles.

The Orphans. Left to right front: Jarry Davis, Danny Goode. Left to right rear: Barry “Lil Spector” Corbett, Phil Strawn, Marshal Sartin

Miss Alice was religiously overcome with musical emotion and experienced a spell of the rock n’ roll vapors that led to seating herself with a double Jack Daniels and branch water. Barry, our drummer and musical genius, had an epiphany and went to work on arranging our music and vocal parts, showing Marshall how to play them on his Farfisa Organ, which was another strange thing; Jarry and I didn’t know Barry could play the piano, or as we soon found out; the guitar, the trumpet, the sax, or the vibes. We dubbed him “Lil Spector” in honor of the famous Wall of Sound producer.

After the Miss Janelle Bobbie Gentry-infused tenure that ended in a puff of hair spray and perfume, the band took a vote: no females allowed. Marshall was still recovering from a severe case of the Love Fever Hubba Hubba’s, and we needed him in good condition for our upcoming gigs.

Miss Alice grew weary of working the phones, dealing with clubs and booking gigs, her realty business was suffering and needed her attention. She arranged for us to be managed by an upstart agency called Mark Lee Productions of Dallas, Texas. Mark was a go-getter and had more connections than Bell Telephone. His one and only main band, Kenny And The Kasuals, had just released a great 45 that was climbing the charts, so we were excited about working with him. We signed on the dotted line of a ten-page contract that not one of us read. Why bother? We were young and full of piss and vinegar: point us in the direction of the stage and plug us in!

Within twenty-four hours, The Orphans were booked into some of the hottest venues in the DFW: The Studio Club, LuAnns, The Pirates Nook, Phantasmagoria, and Teen A-Go-Go and The Box in Fort Worth. Mark Lee was turning down gigs because he had only two bands. We wouldn’t have a Friday and Saturday night free for two years, and even less free time in the summer when the bookings took up most of each week.

We were booked to play a Christmas party for Parkland Hospital at the famous Adolphus Hotel in downtown Dallas. Pulling up to the front in our 57 Caddie Hearse caused a stir. The bellman politely told us the bodies were picked up at the rear. We got the joke and proceeded to the loading docks. The party turned out to be for the doctors, nurses, and administration folks. In the next ballroom, Braniff Airlines was having their Christmas party, but with no band. It didn’t take long before the airline partiers spilled over into the hospital party, and that’s when it got crazy.

These people, supposedly responsible adults, were dancing on the tables, had a conga line going on the bartop, and we had our own go-go dancers on either side of the stage. Three of us were under the age of 18, but that didn’t stop the inebriated partiers from pumping us full of hooch in the form of cute little airline bottles. By the last set, we had gone from charming and talented to stupid drunk and were glad the gig ended. We couldn’t locate our keyboardist, Marshall, so we loaded up his gear and headed out. He showed up a few days later with some dumb-assed story he couldn’t talk about: the Hubba-Hubba’s got him again.

More to come in Part 3

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Say It Ain’t So Billy Joe…An Ode To Teenage Love


After a few months of rehearsals and gigs with our new members, Danny and Marshall, Alice, our manager, announced that she had arranged an audition for a female singer for the band. No consulting the boys on this one; it was full ahead. Alice had good ideas, so we rolled with them. She thought some femaliaty would add depth and make us more audience-friendly, since we were a bunch of surly young men with longish hair and the attitude to accompany our looks.

She knew someone who had a neighbor who knew another neighbor of a family who lived next door to a lady who attended church with a woman who had a daughter who sang in the choir at school and did solos at church, so Alice, one step ahead of us, escorted her into the practice room and announced, ” Boys, this is Miss Janelle.”

In walks, this teenage girl with a full-grown woman’s head of long hair piled up in a big bump on top and then down past her shoulders. She was a dead-ringer for Bobbie Gentry. But could she sing?

A TV dinner tray sat by Marshall’s organ, used for drinks and lyric sheets, so the auditioning singer pulled from a Coppertone beach bag a few record albums, a book of lyrics, a TAB cola, and a framed 8×10 autographed photo of Bobbie Gentry. Now we knew why she looked so much like Bobbie Gentry…she dug the gal.

Danny asked Miss Janelle what songs she knew. ”

Do ya’ll know any Dusty Springfield, Petula Clark, Diana Ross, LuLu, Sonny and Cher, Marianne Faithful, April and Nino, Dione Warwick, Lesli Gore, Ronnie Spector?” she asked.

Danny said, “Nope” we are a rock band, not the Ed Sullivan Show.

That kind of busted her bubble a little bit. “Well,” she says, ” How bout some Bobbie Gentry? I just love her and she is my favorite singer in my whole life.” We had already figured that out from the picture and the hair-du.

Our inquisitive drummer, Barry, interrupted her, ” Isn’t that the song where she and the boyfriend throw a baby child off a bridge into the muddy river?”

Miss Janelle whirled around and yelled, ” No, moron, she didn’t throw no itty-bitty-baby off a bridge; it was a bouquet of Mississippi wildflowers to solidify her big love for her man Billy Joe Macallister, but then he got caught dating his aunties pet sheep, causing him to jump off the old bridge into the muddy Tallachee river. Bobbie sent me a letter, along with this picture, explaining the whole song, but I promised to keep it a secret. We’re friends, you know.”

She thinks hard for a minute, then says, ” The only Rock-N-Roll song I know is Gracie Slick’s Somebody To Love. Ya’ll know that one?” We sort of knew it, so we gave it a go.

The lass let loose and was jumping around like Tina Turner, hair flying everywhere, strutting and shimmying, doing the Bug-a-loo, the Monkey, The Watusi, and a few others while singing. When we ended the tune, Marshall, our organ player, was staring her down with those big pansy-boy watery Puss-N-Boots eyes. He clearly had a severe case of the “Hubba Hubba’s” for this gal. Danny told us that this happens about once a week and he will be alright once he gets home and eats his mama’s hot supper. Alice announces she is marvelous and is now part of the band. Okey-dokey.

The next rehearsal, Miss Janelle comes in with red eyes and mascara trails down her cheeks. All sniffily and weepy, she says, ” My boyfriend said I can’t sing with a bunch of degenerate rock musicians. We are in love, big-time, and I must quit the band now.” Still in the grip of the Hubba-Hubba’s, Marshall puts a consoling arm around her shoulders and tells her, “it can’t be all that bad.”

She barks at him, ” Shut up, Moon Doggy….It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to.”

And with that, she packed her Coppertone beach bag with her albums, lyrics book, TAB cola, and the autographed picture of Bobbie Gentry and left, leaving the air heavy with teenage perfume, hair spray, and juicy fruit gum. Then…..More to come in my series.

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It Was Sixty Years Ago Today…The Beatles Taught Us All To Play


Sixty years ago, on a Sunday night, the Beatles invaded America, and I watched in glorious black and white as they captivated every teenager in the country. The next morning, I told my mother that there would be no more haircuts and that I needed an electric guitar and amplifier. At this point, I had been playing guitar for two years on an old Gibson D 45 and was ready to take the leap into electrified instruments. I took extra vitamins and found a few special exercises to generate hair growth. It was a painstaking process.

Halfway through my school year, my family moved to Plano, Texas, and I was befriended by my good pal, Jarry Davis. He and I both had that special itch to play rock music. He knew a drummer and a sort of bass player, and I took on the lead guitar duties, playing a Japanese electric with six pickups and twenty knobs that did nothing. We called our band The Dolphins, later changing it to The Orphans, which sounded a bit tougher and fit us because of our long hair and general surely attitude; we were not the Monkees.

My rock n’ roll journey started on that February night and lasted until 2019, when my band, The American Classics Band, retired our setlist. Not a bad run of it.

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Welcome To Crazy Town City Limits


Are we not living in “Crazy Town?” Fifteen Thousand clean, well-fed, cell phone-carrying invaders are on their merry way to our Texas/Mexico border, most of them adult military fighting-age males, ready for action. ” Come on down, free everything for life,” and our government does nothing, which they do well, to stop this invasion of our once sovereign land. Since our National Guard, hands tied to their waist, can do nothing, I suggested sending thousands of Boy and Cub Scouts to the border equipped with Daisy BB guns, ” the BBs won’t kill anyone, but damn, they hurt.” This may or may not stop the hordes of brain-eating Zombies, but maybe our folks in DC will get the message. Really, I’m kidding; this is a dream I had while under the influence of my pain meds. Sounds good though.

The NFL is experiencing a boost in game attendance when Taylor Swift is holding court in the owner’s luxury suite. Thousands of her young “Lemming Swifites” are in the bleachers, holding up ” We Are Here For Taylor” signs, clutching her CDs to their breasts, and praying for a glimpse of the anointed one. There is talk on the street that she may run for President. The country will need the “Auto-tune” app on their phones to understand what she is saying. Isn’t social media a grand thing?

I believe she just wet herself. Poor Travis

28 miserable years since my once wonderful football team, The Dallas Cowboys have made a Superbowl appearance, and now the owner, a Rummy-Eyed, jabbering, scotch-pickled Beverley Hillbilly from Arkansas is about to give his quarterback a 60 million per year contract to keep the team in their mediocre bubble. To Jones, it makes perfect sense; if the boys win a Superbowl, then they will be expected to produce a winning team every year, so just give the fans a smidgin of hope, enough to keep his Deathstar stadium full of hungry pilgrims, there to witness mediocracy at it’s best. I can’t bear to watch this trainwreck; at least our Texas Rangers delivered a World Series after receiving their new stadium. Please send Tom back down to Earth for one season.

Saint Tom

Momo is roaring back from her bionic knee replacement, sort of. We went shopping in Fort Worth yesterday, hitched up the wagon, and trekked to the big city. She’s happiest when spending money, so Old Navy, Acadamy, and Half Price Books got a token of her appreciation. I did notice that HPB’s is now carrying re-issues of the old classic rock albums. Back in the 60s, we paid around six bucks for one; now, they cost around twenty to forty bucks, and the vinyl is paper thin. I purchased a reissue of Bob Dylan’s “Nashville Skyline” to replace my long ago stolen original. Who thought that digital engineering of music would sound better than old-school analog. Wasn’t me, and it doesn’t.

Dylans Maximus Opus

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It’s 2009, And We Are In The Studio, Again!


The American Classics Band, 2009

Left to Right; Danny Goode-lead vocals and bass; John Payne-vocals, lead guitar, fiddle, mandolin, and keyboards; and probably some more instruments I’m leaving out. Phil Strawn-vocals and rhythm guitar, banjo- Jordan Welch- drums and bongos, cowbell, and sings like Roger Miller.

The American Classics Band
https://on.soundcloud.com/i9ryA

Track 4 covers Jerry Jeff Walker’s “Navajo Rug.” I’m new to SoundCloud, so I cut off our heads in the pictures. Why do these apps make it so darn hard to move anything over? WordPress won’t allow WMV files, so I had to upload the tunes to SoundCloud, which converted it to an MP3.

Track 1, “For What It’s Worth,” is our cover of Buffalo Springfield’s song about the riots on the Sunset Strip in 1967. The CD was cut at Wavelight Studios in Haltom City, north of Fort Worth. Larry Dylan was the sound engineer and owner of the studio.

Danny and I, back in 67-69, played together in “The Orphans” and “The A.T.N.T.,” which I posted our record a few weeks ago. John Payne played with the “Fabulous Sensations” out of Lubbock, Texas. He also got to sit down and visit with Buddy Holley’s parents in Buddy’s childhood home, so he has been close to musical royalty. Jordan Welch played with The Coachmen, another great popular band in the DFW area, back in the 1960s.

If you haven’t noticed, I discovered background colors today, so bear with the experimentation. It doesn’t take much to entertain me these days.

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Things Are Cooking In The Cactus Patch


Here Comes The Sun…

I don’t mean the beautiful song by Dear Old George Harrison, son… I mean, it’s hot, damn hot, here in South Central Texas. I shouldn’t bitch too much, we had our chance to move to Ruidoso, New Mexico, and passed, and now we suffer. That’s what Texans do, and we do it well. I should be better conditioned; my family didn’t have air conditioning until the early 1960s. I grew up heat tolerant and blazing tuff and could walk on hot sidewalks barefoot while eating a 0-degree Popsicle that would stick to my bottom lip and rip off the skin. Now, I’m just a pansy-assed old guy. It was 107 degrees here yesterday, with a heat index of 117. I’m listening to Christmas music, just trying to stay cool. My poor plants are stressing, begging for water, and screaming all night. As a dedicated gardener and ornithologist ( birdman ), I must watch out for my flora and fauna. Lots of water and good quality birdseed, although the Crow family is back and cleaning the feeders out in record time. Now they sit on my roof and “caw..caw” for hours, claiming my homestead as their own. I’m a bit nervous because, as a child, I saw Hitchcock’s classic “The Birds,” and it traumatized me to the point that I ran from Sparrows and Parakeets. Crows are enormous birds with large beaks that can take out my good eye with one peck; as long as I keep the excellent seed coming, I should be alright. It’s so hot; even the smaller birds sit in the shade all day.

Reunions And Medical Conditions

The Orphans 1968

Last Saturday, MoMo, myself, Danny, and Dana Goode met Jarry and Benita Davis for lunch at the famous “Lucilles” restaurant in Fort Worth. Jarry, Danny, and I played in the “Oprhans” and “The ATNT” back in the sixties. We were a semi-infamous rock band that played all the DFW circuits, LuAnns, The Studio Club, Strawberry Fields, The Box, Teen A Go Go, Phantasmagoria, etc., traveled around Texas and Oklahoma, and even opened for the “Iron Butterfly.” The three of us are the surviving members; our drummer Barry and keyboardist, Marshall, have gone on to the great jam session in the sky. We revisited some of the good old musical days but mostly talked about kids, grandkids, our working lives, and then, of course, our medical issues, of which we have plenty. We all had cancer and beat it, foot issues, hearing loss (caused by loud rock music and large amplifiers), brain trauma, back surgeries, transplants, nervous breakdowns, plain nervousness, forgetfulness, food allergies, food fears, fear of everything, and upcoming funerals ( our own ). We didn’t start showing scars, but we came damn close. I might have won that one. I believe the patrons around us were glad to see us leave. We promised to get together again, and we will, while there are still three of us.