Sam Promo Shot 1964
Grandma had two goats; a Billy and a Nanny. Goats can be a lot of fun.
This article is a condensed version of the journey, as Sam recalls it. For a broader and more detailed version, you'll have to wait for the book.
We were unknowns on an unknown label, walking into a distributor's office, only to see the competitor's version as suggested "PICK OF THE WEEK"; disheartening to say the least.
They cleaned my wounds and gave me a tetanus shot. I had some down-to-the-bone holes in me.
“He was wearing a white "Ben Hogan" type cap and was walking along the road. He had his hands over his mouth and something was making a beautiful sound. It was a harmonica.”
“Life in the country was pleasant. There were never any dull moments. Quiet maybe; but never dull.”
“Onesimo was the first one of our family to make it all the way through grammar school and into high school, with honors no less.”
As a tongue-in-cheek put down Andy, the leader of the band began to introduce Sam as "The Sham".
I remember my thoughts at that particular moment; "Is this how a dog feels after being hit by a car and people are just standing around looking at him?"
“Cool,” he said; (TRANSLATION: “I understand.” PROFOUND TRANSLATION: “This is a mad dog in the street. I best not step on his tail.”).
Table of Contents
- FIRST ENCOUNTER
- NIGHT CALL
- GOAT ROPERS
- THE PHARAOHS
- CHICKEN WIRE?
- ANDY AND THE NIGHTRIDERS
- THE RETURN
- ALL GOOD THINGS
- COOKIN & JAMMIN
- THE JOURNEY
FOND MEMORIES (circa 1941)
FIRST ENCOUNTER
My earliest memories of our family are pleasant. I've tried to analyze why some things have remained so vivid in my mind. Perhaps tragic events in our lives drive us to grasp the pleasant memories surrounding such tragedies. We later use those memories as points of refrence; or sheltered harbours, to help us in the storms to come. These are such memories.
It was summer and we lived in the country. I've been told that I was about four years old at the time. I remember being on the side porch when something gave the dogs a start. They could hear something coming down the road. It wasn't a car or a wagon. Whatever it was, it wasn't in sight yet. The edge of the woods did not allow a clear view. All three dogs were up and were headed to where the road came out from along side the woods. Then I began to hear something. It was music; not like anything I'd ever heard before. Then I saw him. It was Daddy. He was wearing a white "Ben Hogan" type cap and was walking along the road. He had his hands over his mouth and something was making a beautiful sound. It was a harmonica. He was playing a harmonica. The sound was lush and flowing. The dogs were going crazy. They knew it was Daddy. But I don't guess "Funny," "Spot" or "Mocho" had ever heard a harmonica either. That "Texas;" six o'clock; summer sun made Daddy's cap almost glow.
Many years later, I found out that my father had walked several miles that day; just to spend a few hours with Mama and us; then turned around and walked several miles back to a dish-washing job; surviving.
Amazing; how, in a home where love abides, children can feel so secure. But then again, I was just about four.
NIGHT CALL
Life in the country was pleasant. There were never any dull moments. Quiet maybe; but never dull. On one of those quiet moments, we were almost ready for bed. The kerosene lamp was on the kitchen table. We had no electricity. The lamp globe had to be cleaned often because soot would collect in the globe and dim the light. The wick had to be trimmed as well.
Daddy and Mama were at the table. It was summer; as I recall. Mama got up and went outside to the chicken coop to gather some eggs for the following morning. She was gone just a short while when we heard her scream and call out "Jimmy!" Quick as lightening, Daddy was up from the table and out the door. Mama was frightened and the dogs were up with my father and ready for anything. While gathering eggs, mama had stuck her hand into a nest to feel the unmistakable texture of a snake. The snake had not bitten Mama but had given her quite a fright. Daddy grabbed the hoe and the lantern and with the dogs headed for the coop. As we were standing with Mama, I could see the flame of the lantern moving around in the coop. While Daddy was in the coop Mama was getting a fire ready in the yard. Daddy came out with a snake. From the looks of it, it had already had it's supper. Daddy killed it and mama threw it in the fire. After the fire went out, she scattered the ashes. That was supposed to keep other snakes away. That was one of the night events that I recall.
During the day, mama would quilt, embroider or can; depending on the time of year. Grandma lived across the road, a good ways back. We saw her nearly everyday. She would come over and we would go fishing at the river close by. And of course we always picked blackberries on the way home. She and mama were always doing something together. Sometimes they'd grind corn on a metate; a lava stone specifically shaped for grinding corn. With the meal they would make tortillas and other things like tamales or a hot breakfast cereal. Those were special times. Grandma had been married to a German from outside San Antonio. Grandma was from Spain and Ferrer was her name by marriage. I never knew grandpa Ferrer. Grandma was then married to an uncle on my father's side, Uncle Andrew. Everybody said he was mean, but he never bothered me. I guess that's because Grandma was mean too, when she had to be. Uncle Andrew had used a whip on his own sons a time or two. That was before he met Grandma.
Once while thrashing the pecan trees, Uncle Andrew had my brother Onesimo gathering and sacking the pecans. Onesimo was about thirteen years old at the time. It was on a Saturday and Onesimo had wanted to go to town. Work was not very high on Onesimo's list of things to do on Saturday. Discouraged, Onesimo was not gathering fast enough to suit Uncle Andrew. After several threats Uncle Andrew climbed down from the tree; walked over; picked up his whip and cracked it. When a soft gentle voice spoke from the fence, "Don't touch that boy." It was Grandma. The words themselves were not menacing but they were followed by the authoritative sound of a colt .44 being cocked. Uncle Andrew realized that he had only suffered a momentary loss of rationality, due to his lack of patience; and climbed back up the tree; grumbling.
Onesimo was the first one of our family to make it all the way through grammar school and into high school, with honors no less. This secured him much grace.
Uncle Andrew was not devoid of patience. He was a sharecropper and farmed with mules, which can be trying. He had three mules. Two of them were brown and one was white. The white mule's name was Bill and had one of Uncle Andrew's traits; mean.
Once, when Uncle Andrew was in Bill's stall, Uncle Andrew made the grave mistake of getting himself between Bill's dangerous end and a corner; with no way out. Bill must have sensed that an opportunity like that comes once in a mule's life; and he made the most of it. Some of the farm hands finally got Uncle Andrew out of the stall; but not unscathed.
Bill had worked him over pretty good. Uncle Andrew had some badly, bruised ribs; among other wounds. They got Uncle to the house and bound him up. Some of the men offered to go out to the corral and shoot Bill. Uncle Andrew could barely speak but he made it clear that he didn't want anybody touching his animal. After a few weeks, Uncle Andrew had mended enough to walk about. As soon as he was able to swing his arms he went out to the corral and tied Bill up and worked him over with a 2 X 4. Like I said, they had something in common. I guess they understood each other. Uncle Andrew didn't get rid of Bill. They went on working together. With all due respect; may the best mule win. Some folks would protest, "cruelty to animals." Me; I ain't taking sides. I like mules to this day. I believe they are some of the smartest animals on the planet. Who can blame them for not wanting to pull a plow or a wagon all day long? Even when their trying their best to pull a load, there's always someone close by cracking a whip or popin' a rein instead of encouraging them. Like I said, may the best mule win.
"Git on up there Bill!" Wherever you are; I'm hopin' you on.
Well, I guess I am takin' sides. But I figure it's best to be at Bill's side; then at his business end, cornered in.
GOAT ROPERS
On occasion, Mama would take my sister and I across the road to Grandma's, just to visit. My sister Ester is only two years older than I and we were always together. While Mama and Grandma visited, Ester and I were allowed to play in Grandma's bedroom. That was a real treat. The floor was covered with a pink, floral patterned linoleum. There was an iron rabbit doorstop, which stood about a foot tall. Her bed was made of wood and ornately crafted; fit for a queen, which was befitting. When Grandma dressed up, she carried herself like a queen. What a privilege to play in a queen's chamber.
Ester and I would spin around and around till we got so dizzy, we fell to the floor. Then we would just lie there on the cool linoleum, laughing. When the dizziness went away, we would get up and do it again. We called it getting drunk. Sometimes Mama would leave us with Grandma for a few hours. Grandma was always doing things with us or for us.
Grandma had two goats; a Billy and a Nanny. Goats can be a lot of fun. They can also be very helpful. A few goats can clear a whole lot of underbrush and thicket; and get fat doing it. Sometimes a goat is kept with horses or cows to repel flies. One day when we were allowed to stay with Grandma, She headed toward the barn. The barn was separate from the corral. She had lured the Nanny close enough to get a rope on her. (In Texas, the word Nanny does not refer to a woman who is a live-in, keeper of someone else's children). Grandma told us she had to milk the Nanny and we were going to help. It seemed easy enough. After all, I was as tall as the goat. Grandma tied the goat in a short hitch, to the corner of the barn. Grandma got directly behind the goat, with Ester on one side and me on the other. When Grandma gave the word, Ester and I were to grab the goat's hind leg assigned to each of us. This would allow Grandma to place the milk bucket under the goat's teats from behind. Grandma explained how important it was for us not to let go of the legs. Otherwise the goat might get skittish. Well, the best of plans can run amuck when a Grandma enlists two kids to help her milk a Nanny; who has two kids of her own to feed. Needless to say; The Nanny ain't givin' it up without a struggle.
Grandma gave the word. Ester and I each, gently took hold of our assigned goat leg. The goat didn't stir. ( So far, so good ). Grandma put the bucket in place ( Still doin' good ). Grandma began to milk. Not frantically, 'cause she didn't want to spook the goat; but steady and meaning business. Although the goat was on a tight hitch, there was enough slack in the line to allow her to turn her head a little. Never-the-less, there was not enough slack for her to get a full view of who was doin' what; behind her or to her. The rest she tried to see by rolling her eyes as far as goatly possible ( Have you ever looked into a goat's eye? If there is any sympathy at all in you, the look in a goat's eye will find it. ). Realizing what she had allowed herself to be lured into, the Nanny began to swing her head from side to side frantically. At the same time she was kickin' and buckin'. Grandma was yellin', "Hold on! Don't let her go!" Ester and I were holding on. But as far as the kickin' was going, the Nanny was pretty much having her way. On one of those kicks, she connected with the bucket. Grandma was quick enough to catch it before it flipped over. Some milk did slosh out of it but Grandma had gotten enough;_____so had we;___so had the goat. Grandma turned her loose. I didn't mind the goat smell. But I didn't like goat milk. To me, the milk tasted like the goat smelled.
But then again, what did I know? I was just a "Goat Roper".
SHAM THE SHAM & THE PHARAOHS
Parts of the story were unknown or inaccurate until now. This article is a condensed version of the journey, as Sam recalls it. For a broader and more detailed version, you'll have to wait for the book; which may take a while. Sam is still living it. So Sit back, relax and take a tour through the House of Sham. We hope you enjoy...
THE PHARAOHS
1961
The group THE PHARAOHS was formed in Texas, in 1961. The members were; Carl Medke; Russell Fowler; Omar "Big Man Lopez; Sam Samudio and Vincent Lopez (no kin to Big Man). Vincent was only sixteen years old when he joined the band but was already on probation. Sam and Big Man had to meet with Vincent's probation officer in order to assume responsibility for Vincent's safety and behavior while working in night clubs. Sam and Big Man each, knew first hand, the difficulties of trying to break out of the West Dallas stigma. Carl and Vincent got along fairly well. Sam recalls that Carl may have been on probation also. Not exactly a boys choir.
( In relating the facts as he recalls them;Sam is emphatic about not wanting to glorify trying situations and troubled lives in his past. To the young people who have it good, Never apologize for having it good. And to the young wannabee street players; There's no glory in lyin' in the street dyin' while your mama's standin' there cryin'. As you struggle for one last breath, and she's praying for God to hold back death.")
1962
In 1962 the group made one record. And yes there is a copy somewhere. Sam the leader was determined not to work any longer for five dollars per man per night. Due to differences in aspirations and goals, Sam dropped out.
Original members of Andy and the Nightrider's, May,1963 at the Congo Club. From left to right: David A. Martin (from West Dallas), Sam Samudio (from West Dallas),Vincent Lopez (from West Dallas; age 17; on probation at the time) and Andy Anderson (South Texas; vaccinated with a guitar string guitar player ahead of his time; band leader).
Chicken wire? Chicken wire is for chickens.
"West Dallas," had a way of marking her children; Even those that broke away. As if she had vaccinated them herself. With the scars and memories of hard times past, she made them immune to panic; giving each child a subtle air of confident readiness for whatever might arise. Therefore; if ever a guest in the club became suicidal by considering "jacking" with the band; someone would advise the potential suicide victim that: they call their mother before they went another "futher." and that there are "bluffers" and "sho' nuffers;" "yakers" and "packers." Those that tried such "tricks" wound up in a bad "fix."
Naw, we never played behind chicken wire. We didn't play Misty either (too many chords and not our bag). And we didn't take requests; except from the Sheriff. And they were to "get out' a town" and "stay out' a town!" When he sent his requests, we oblidged; and headed for Memphis. But naw, we didn't play behind chicken wire. Chicken wire's for chickens.
We played behind "Colt," "Case" and "K-Bar."
ANDY AND THE NIGHTRIDERS
1963
In the Spring of 1963,Vincent went to Leesville, Louisiana to work with ANDY AND THE NIGHTRIDERS . Bass player David A. Martin; previously a member of a band known as TOMMY AND THE TOM TOMS had also gone to Louisiana to work as a NIGHTRIDER.
Meanwhile back in Dallas, Sam had purchased an organ. Although he could only play chords, he used the organ as a rhythm instrument. Sam had owned the organ only two days when he got a call from David Martin. The "NIGHTRIDER'S" were losing their organist and David was offering Sam a job. Sam told David up front, "I just got the thing. All I can do is chord and play rhythm on it." David's response; "We'll get a U-Haul trailer and Vincent and I will come get'cha." The NIGHTRIDERS may not have gotten a virtuoso on the organ; but they definitely got a singer with a wide vocal range; ready for the hunt and well acquainted with the blues.
Every night was like Saturday at THE CONGO CLUB, on highway 171. People came from as far as a hundred miles away to hear the NIGHTRIDERS kick it out. As a tongue-in-cheek put down Andy, the leader of the band began to introduce Sam as "The Sham. Looking back Sam says "A Name is what you make of it. And yes, there is a rare live recording of that band.
In June of 1963, the NIGHTRIDERS headed for Memphis,Tennessee on their quest for gold. David and Sam rode together in David's Pontiac. They went north to Ruston; Monroe; Bastrop; Oak Grove; North to US 82;over to Mississippi Greenville, and up highway 61, to Memphis,Tennessee.
In less than a week the band had landed a gig at a club named THE DIPLOMAT. As was the band's reputation; every night was like Saturday night at THE DIPLOMAT on South Bellvue Blvd.
In late summer however, Andy wanted to return to Louisiana. Vincent wanted to go back to Texas. David and Sam decided to stay. Sam became the leader and picked up the name of his first band But this time It was SAM THE SHAM AND THE PHAROAHS. The new players were two misfits that didn't quite fit the local mode; which was just the ticket for Sam the Sham and the Pharaoh's. They were, Jerry Patterson on drums and Ray Stinnett on guitar Butch Gibson joined the band shortly there after. The rest is as they say, history but not without a few bumps.
Prior to success and after Andy and Vincent had departed; SAM THE SHAM & THE PHAROAHS were; BACK ON TRACK AT THE DIPLOMAT. THE JYNT WAS JUMPIN.'' The gig ran from 10:00 PM until 4:00 AM.
That was B.V. (before vans) and Sam needed something to haul his organ and Lesley speaker in. Sam asked the club owner where he, Sam might find a used hearse. The club owner found a 1952, Packard hearse; with a straight 8, engine; 18-inch wheelbase complete with maroon velvet curtains. There was a sliding window between the driving compartment and the business department. Every night The Bela Lugosi Special; "BLACK BEAUTY" as Sam called her; would ease out of the driveway and into the dark; "OUT ON THE HUNT AND READY TO JUMP." "DOWN TO THE STRIP AND READY TO RIP."
The band had enough songs in their "skillet"-- (as in repertoire-pronounced: rep.eh. twar) {this explanation was for those of my fans that are not totally familiar w/ SHAM speak and are still a little L7. The rest of you need not be offended or insulted}. As I was saying, The band had enough songs in their skillet, to do six hours without repeating a number. The group was of one mind; and that was to, "GET A RECORD" (as in recording).
Butch Gibson had not yet joined the band. There was however a featured vocalist that had been hired separately 'cause he had been unemployed for a while. Later, we'll more or less understand why. But for now let's just call him "Slick."
"Slick would come up for about ten to fifteen minutes at the end of every set. He was into a different BAG (STYLE). We backed him and made him look like a star. Things were rockin' right along and pickn' up steam."
One particular song Sam and The Pharaohs did, got a lot of response. "It wasn't a rockhouse number but each time they played it, everybody would hit the floor. The song had been a hit in the "50's," by the late great "KING OF THE STROLL;" CHUCK WILLIS." "What a beautiful voice he had. He's worth checkin' out." Says Sam;
One night a drummer from another club came in and asked Sam if he could have the words to that particular song. That he, the drummer would like to do it on their set. Sam said "sure". A short while later Sam and the Pharaohs, went to a studio named "Fernwood." Having pooled their week's salary, the band bought enough time to do two songs. The songs were CHUCK WILLIS' "BETTY AND DUPREE" and "MANCHILD," an original by Sam (there are a few copies around). The "45,"single was released on "TUPELO RECORDS," which was owned by Slick. The band took some of their money and had five hundred "45's" pressed. The next step was to find distributors and radio stations to help "break" the record (as in get it on the charts).
One night while back at the club, the guy Sam had given the lyrics to; came in all excited. He announced that he had just recorded "Betty and Dupree" on Sun Records; and that Sam Phillips was releasing it immediately. Coincidence? Treachery? B.B. KING said long ago; "NOBODY LOVES ME BUT MY MAMA. AND SHE MIGHT BE JIVIN' TOO." We would leave Memphis at 4:45, Sunday morning; after having done a six hour set. We would drive most of the day Sunday to where ever our destination might be that weekend. We would be out early Monday, making the rounds to "ONE-STOP RECORD SHOPS", "RECORD DISTRIBUTORS" and "RADIO STATIONS". We were unknowns on an unknown label, walking into a distributor's office, only to see the competitor's version as suggested "PICK OF THE WEEK"; disheartening to say the least.
The original "Sam the Sham and the Pharoaoh's" members included Ray Stinnet, guitar; Butch Gibson, saxophone; Dave Martin (from the Nightrider's), bass; Jerry Patterson drums; and Sam Samudio (also from the Nightrider's), organ/vocals. 1963.
It was on the return from Dallas, on one such jaunt; that David and I were in the hearse. As I had mentioned, the hearse had a "STRAIGHT 8,"engine. Needless to say, milage per gallon was not the best. Oil consumption was just as bad.
We bought oil by the five gallon container. The old saying about pulling into a gas station and asking the attendant to "check the gas and fill up the oil," was us. On take off, Black Beauty made about a hundred miles per hour of sound and smoke; and about thirty-five miles real speed. We're talking on take off. Anyone not familiar with the "SAM THE SHAM & THE PHARAOHS," chariot; would either stand there petrified with their mouths agape or would be looking for cover. As we would drive off in a cloud of smoke.
To avoid fuel waste by starting and stopping to change drivers, we utilized the sliding window between the back compartment and the front seat. Careful to always maintain a speed of sixty miles per hour for fuel efficiency, we would switch drivers on the run. The driver would merely slide over to the "shot gun" side, holding the steering wheel with his left hand and controlling the speed with his left foot on the throttle. The relief driver would then slide feet first; from the back; through the window to land behind the steering wheel. The relieved driver would then slide the glass window over to the back of the driver and climb into the back to take his turn sleeping. (WARNING!!!!! DO NOT; I REPEAT, DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS AT HOME; ON THE ROAD OR ANYWHERE!!!!!!!! IN AN ATTEMPT TO BECOME A "HERO," YOU MAY BECOME A "ZERO." EXPERIENCE IS NOT THE "BEST' TEACHER. IT'S THE "HARDEST" TEACHER. Now back to the story.)
As I recall, It was December of "63," mid morning; on a Tuesday. David was driving and I was lying on the floor in the back. I heard the transmission begin to whurr (To my hard-core fans; I'm describing a sound and not a location). I could feel that David was pushing the ol' girl. I sat up and looked through the sliding window. The speedometer was showing 63 miles per hour and climbing. I reminded David to keep it at "60." I was kneeling and about to lay back down when I noticed the rear, right side door rattling. The door was a "suicide door." Which means it opened into the wind. Without thinking, I grabbed the handle to open and shut the door snug. Having opened it but an inch I realized what I had done. Trying to hold a suicide door against a 63 mile an hour wind draft is impossible. Nevertheless, I tried. In a split second I glanced frantically for something to anchor myself to but found nothing. My last syllable uttered was, "Got-" (thank God I didn't finish the phrase). The door shot me out with a tremendous force. I managed to hold onto the handle and the arm rest of the sprung door as it dragged me parallel to the hearse. I released the door and continued skidding on my back.
Looking back, I'm still amazed at the speed and reasoning ability of the human mind that God created.
My thought process went thus: Place your hands on your chest so in case you lose any body parts, you can still make a living playing. Relax; just in case you hit a road guard or a post you won't shatter or break your back. Maybe you'll just sprain it. When we slow down to 20 mph, we'll roll off the highway so other cars won't run over you.
Just then another thought came into my head (had to be the other guy): Forget it. You're doing "63" mph. In a minute you're gonna hear that loud roar that you hear when you get hit in the head. This is it.
My response was: "God, please take care of my children. Please make sure they get what belongs to them. I guess this is where I find out whether there's a heaven or hell. I did hear that loud roar. I was trying hard to maintain consciousness. The following segment of events was a blur. The next thing I knew, I was on my back choking. I opened my eyes, taking care not to move suddenly. I thought I was strangling on my own blood. I raised up slightly and turned my face to the ground. Water came pouring out of my mouth and nose. I didn't know if it was from my brain or my sinuses. Wherever it was from, that's a hard way to clear your head. I saw Johnson grass around me so I figured I wasn't in heaven. I couldn't feel any flames, so I figured I wasn't in hell. I could hear traffic a little ways away; so I figured I must be near the highway. I checked my hands. My left hand looked rough. When I wiggled my fingers, my wrist would hurt. I checked my right hand. It was fair. Oh well, one out of two's not bad. I figured I could still chord with my right hand. I looked at my left leg, which was bent behind me. It had a gaping hole next to where my kneecap ought to be. At the sight of my knee, I figured I might as well write my lower left leg off and that my dancing days were over.
Up until then I was pretty calm, considering I had just raced a motorized vehicle. I looked down the highway and saw the hearse still getting' it. At first I thought; "It must be out of control. Or, maybe David's crawled into the back looking for me. If that's the case; who's driving?" Then I realized; " He doesn't even know I'm gone." The next stop would be for fuel and we had just fueled up. Or, the opened door might get ripped if he should drive too close to something. By that time it might be dark and he'd never find me. That's when I began to get concerned (OK then, panic. Everyone's got a limit and I was dancing on the edge of mine. Even if it was on one leg. ) By now the hearse was about a quarter of a mile away.
As I lay there watching it, I noticed it began to slow down and pull over to the side of the road. I watched as David jumped out of the hearse; ran all the way around the back to the opened side door. I could hear him yelling "Sam, Sam!" He opened all the doors to the back compartment; looked in the hearse and under the hearse as he called. (He probably thought "The Rapture" had happened. If it had had, I was in no spiritual condition to make the flight.) Finally he looked back up the road.
My head and shoulders were probably the only visible part of me as I raised my right arm high and waived. David began to run toward me. He ran about twenty feet and stopped. He then turned, ran toward the hearse and stopped again. It appeared that he couldn't decide which would be the quickest way to get to me. He decided to run. As he approached me, he was shaking his head and saying "Sam, Sam."
I said, "Please don't touch me Dave. Let me rest." One of the bands David had been in before he went to Louisianna had been in a serious road accident. One of the band members had been decapitated. I could see Dave's face begin to pale.
"You gotta keep it together David," I said. "I don't know if I can maintain consciousness. This is what we're gonna do." I continued. "Ease me over on my side and check how bad it is." Dave eased me over on my right side and began moving shreds of what use to be my clothes. "How bad is it?" I asked. "Looks bad Sam," he answered. "OK," I continued. "Go get the hearse and bring it around on the service road. While you're doing that, I'll check to see if there are any other parts that hurt. When you get back, you can help me get back in the hearse. We'll go to a hospital somewhere. I'll get a tetanus shot and some pain pills and we'll get back on the road. We can still make make it to Memphis by tonight." As David took off running to the hearse, we encouraged each other. "Hang on Sam; Hang on!" "I'm OK Dave; just maintain."
Meanwhile, an eighteen-wheeler pulled over. Three men got out. They had to walk about seventy feet to where I was. They had probably seen it all from a distance. One of them had one of my shoes in his hand. As they neared, I called out, "Please don't touch me. Just let me rest." I was cautious about anyone moving me. Sometimes well meaning folks can finish you off if you have internal injuries.
I remember my thoughts at that particular moment; "Is this how a dog feels after being hit by a car and people are just standing around looking at him?"
The one with the shoe said, "We found this up the road." He dropped it beside me. It was chewed up. Another one said, "We have a two-way radio in the truck. Do you want us to call an ambulance?"
"No thanks," I said. "If you'll help me get back into the one I just fell out of, I'll be OK."
David drove up on the service road and opened the door I had fallen out of. With the help of the truck drivers (thank God for truck drivers.) I stood to my better foot. When I did water and some blood poured out of my left knee. It gave me a start for a moment. The issue lasted only for a second. I was helped into the hearse. We thanked the truckers and took off.
David and the truckers had concluded that the nearest hospital would be in Greenville, Texas, which was about eighteen miles east of where we were. We really didn't know how to get there but we got on a farm road and were headed in the general direction of the town. Let me remind y'all that a beard, an earring and the general appearances of the likes of us were not common in those days. David spotted someone in front of a farmhouse and stopped to ask for directions.
The man began to give directions that slowly turned into a muttle. The man's curiosity about what was in the back of the hearse had overtaken his line of thought. David impatiently asked him again.
The directions included going down the road to a schoolhouse, "where some children would be playing in the yard" but that wouldn't be the place to turn." We would have to drive further to another road, mutter, mutter, muttle, muttle. We drove off.
The gentleman had given us enough information to at least get us close to the hospital. Frequently David would check, "Are you OK? Hang on, hang on!" "I'm OK," I answered. "Just take it easy on the turns or you'll roll me on my back."
When we got to the hospital, David called out one more time as he jumped out of the hearse, "Hold on Sam. I'll get some help!" David returned with two attendants and a stretcher. I could hear him hurriedly directing them to the side door. The door had been warped slightly but not enough to keep it from opening. It did however creak increasingly as it opened. At a certain point, it made a loud popping noise that sounded like a gunshot. The combination of the loud noise and the sight of what appeared to be a wounded werewolf, startled the orderlies so, that they jumped back. At the sight of their reaction, David yelled at 'em, "Get in there and get 'im. He ain't gonna hurt you."
They quickly but apprehensively pulled themselves together; eased me out of the hearse and onto the stretcher. They wheeled me up the ramp, into the hospital and all the way to a room with a stainless steel table in it. They parked me me next to the table and eased me onto it. They proceeded to cut what was left of my clothes off of me. "All I need is a tetanus shot and some pain pills," I informed the the doctors. "We've got to be in Memphis, Tennessee by ten o'clock tonight." "You may not be in very much pain right now, returned one of the doctors. ("duhhhh, well let's have a cook out. I'll be the hamburger meat.") "But you'll feel it tonight." ("double duhhh, I'm feelin it right now"). "We're going to examine you to see if you have any internal injuries." he continued. "We'll clean you up, take some x-rays and let you know what we find." I turned to David, "Call my brother (who was a surgeon in Dallas). Tell him what's happened and where I am. Tell him not to tell anyone else in the family. Then call Memphis. Tell Papa (who was one of the owners of the club) what's happened. Tell him we'll try to be there tomorrow night. We'll keep him posted." "Right now," I turned to the doctors; "I need to empty my bladder and I don't think I can handle a bed pan." They helped me off the table and sat me sideways in a wheelchair. They wheeled to a bathroom close by. With some help, I got out of the wheelchair and onto the commode, having to sit side-saddle. Talk about a pause that refreshes. Lookin' like hamburger with one side of one's rump sheared off is bad enough. But to pee all over one's self just wouldn't be cool.
While I sat there, I was mulling over what was happening and how I was gonna recover. When I was ready to get up, my body wouldn't respond. It had begun to cramp and I was wedged in the closet like bathroom. I thought, "Oh me, what now?" I didn't wanna start yellin' for help (At this point I'd like to say that it was a great day; just a whole lotta bad things were happening to me).
David had figured I was taking a little bit long and decided to go check on me. He knocked on the door and asked, "Sam, you alright?" "Not exactly." He opened the door and un-wedged me and helped me back to the table. They cleaned my wounds and gave me a tetanus shot. I had some down-to-the-bone holes in me. They packed some sulfur goop in 'em. It was kinda like axle grease but yellow. They gave Dave a shot to mellow him out and a pill or two to take later. They informed him that he had time to make his calls but should get a room first.
The x-rays showed that over all I was in pretty good shape, considering. I did have a fracture in my left wrist and another one on my left ankle. Because of the open wounds, they decided to wait before putting a cast on my leg. They did however put a pillow splint on the back of my left calf and ankle.
After they put me in a room, David left. All in all it was a good day. Things just kinda went awry. But it was a good day. Needless to say, we didn't make it to Memphis that night or the next. David and I stayed in Dallas for a week. During that week, the club owners gave us a raise. About a month or two later, in Memphis, a man fell out of an ambulance that was doin' thirty-five miles an hour. The fall broke his neck and killed him. I didn't even know him but I felt bad for him.
Yep, I had a great day.
THE RETURN
We had been in Dallas about two weeks or so. During that time, the crowd at the club had really gone down. "Slick" had tried to keep it going but business went down anyway. When we got back to Memphis, I was wearing a cast on my left leg. Due to the damage done to my knee, the cast went from below my knee to my toes. I was on crutches but managed quiet well. Swelling was a problem. So in order to minimize the swelling, I stacked empty drink cases to prop my leg on. Wasn't long before the crowd got the word that we were back. It took a while. But my knee got well enough that I could dance if I wanted to (slow dance anyway). Having recovered physically, mentally and emotionally, we were back in the hunt.
One Saturday night, a well known producer came into the club. David knew of him. During the last hours of our set he approached us." You guys really have a great sound. I'd like to take y'all in my studio and cut a few sides on you."" Y'all be down here tomorrow at 12:00 noon. I'll meet you here and y'all can follow me down there." Needless to say, the band was excited.
Sunday was one of our days off. Sundays and Mondays we used for well needed rest. But this Sunday was a special event. Having worked till 4:00, in the morning was rough enough. But we still had to wait around till the place was cleared out before we could "Settle Up." By that time, it was close to 5:00 A.M. Then we had to eat breakfast (supper to us), go home and unwind from the six hours of kickin' it out. But as I said before, "This day was special."
We managed to get a few hours sleep, then went back to the club at around 11:00 A.M. The band was excited and began to break the set down. I told them to hold off a while.
"He'll be here in a little while," they responded. "And we need to be ready."" Relax," I told them. "It won't take us that long to load up."
Twelve O'clock came and went. One O'clock came and went. Two O'clock was closing in and no sign of "Mr.Big Time" when I said to the crew,
"Let's go to the house Boys." "You don't think he's coming?" they asked" He ain't coming," I answered." Let's go to the house."
I felt bad for the way the crew had been disappointed. Me, I was more angry than I was disappointed. It was the following week as I recall, "Mr. Big Time" showed up at the club one night. During one of our breaks he came over to where I was standing.
"I'm sorry I didn't make it last Sunday." He said." I got hung up."" No problem." I responded." You don't know me. And I don't know you. If you ain't gonna help, just leave me alone. We don't have to do business. I ain't got much. All I got is my time. Don't jack with my time."
"Cool," he said; (TRANSLATION: "I understand." PROFOUND TRANSLATION: "This is a mad dog in the street. I best not step on his tail.").
Probably not the best way to make friends and influence people but it sure separates the "Bull Corn" from the "Buckwheat." Someone told me once, "Short words make for a long understanding." We did remain acquaintances, as time would bear out.
ALL GOOD THINGS
Christmas was fast approaching. In the spirit of the season, I dicided to give my cast a little color. I bought some red paint and painted some spiraled stripes around it from top to the toes. With my leg looking like a big CANDY CANE, I was ready for Christmas. The club owners were in a generous mood and wanted to show their appreciation to the policemen that patroled the area. They, the club owners gave all the cops on the beat, a ham each. What? "Tis the season to be jolly;Fa La La La La, La La La La." Perhaps no one considered the future ramifications from the present appearance of impropriety. Duh, BRIBERY.
The other club owners in the area got wind of the generousity shown the officers on the beat. Being stirred with generousity themselves, they waited till after Christmas before they brought it to the attention of city hall and the local news paper. The club closed down and we moved on.
BUT
But...... we did have some time before we made our move. There was an investigation and court hearings and who knows what else. In the meanwhile, the band applied the old "WHEN YOU'RE GETTIN' RUN OUTA TOWN" principal. Which says, "When you're gettin' run outa town; square your shoulders; put a smile on your face and start high steppin'. Make it look like a parade and act like you're leading it." The intensity of our performances did not deminish a bit. As a matter of fact, it may have kicked up a notch or two.
One night a woman came to the band stand and began talking to me while we were doing a song. The band stand stood about three to three and a half feet above the dance floor. I was being courteous and at the same time, trying to keep my mind on my business. Suddenly, her irate male companion came up from where ever their table was and grabbed her by the wrist with both hands. Sensing she was about to be slung across the floor, she grabbed one of the legs of my organ. When he tried to sling her, she almost pulled the organ off the bandstand. I was quick enough to reach over the top with my left arm to keep my organ from toppling off the stage. Unsuccessful in his first attempt, he braced himself for another try. The lady was not letting go and neither was I. All the while I was still playing the song with my right hand, leaving me no free hand with which to pry her fingers loose. The gentleman gave it another shot. And everybody held on. We were locked in a three way musical tug-of-war. By then, a waitress had come to my aid and was trying to pry the lady's fingers open. Finally the bouncers showed up and gave us all some relief.
Free music anybody? Just something to think about next time someone is tempted to download some music without the artist's permission........ Oh well; ROCK & ROLL.
COOKIN & JAMMIN
As we all know, the legal system takes a while to reach any end to anything. So we just kept rockin' along. I believe the club owners had taken a "PORKUS DELICTI" defense. The hams had been consumed. While that was being hashed out in court, we were steady "COOKIN," at the club.
The three-way tug of war had left the rail on the front edge of the stage somewhat loose. The guitar player, Ray Stinnett, would utilize it on occasion while doing his "sham"(what one does to excite the crowd or draw a response). Ray was red-headed; not very tall or stocky. When I would glance at him from time to time; him standing there with that big, red, hollow body Gibson; it stirred the question: "Did his Mama give birth to a guitar and then Ray grew on it?" Or was it the other way around? Whichever way it was, he could play. The rail stood at about mid thigh level. It was loose enough at the bottom to allow an eight to ten inch sway at the top.
At times, Ray would run at the rail; place the arches of his feet on the bottom of the rail and lean way out. To the crowd, it appeared that Ray was about to fall flat on the dance floor. Ray would then lean back enough to allow the rail to bring him back to a vertical position. All this he did in one swift motion, while playing his guitar. There are times in a band's life when you're jammin'. And there are times in a band's life when you're cookin'. But when you're "COOKIN & JAMMIN;" You've experienced the "DEVINE." At such moments, I've thought; "If at the end of this song, I were to die it wouldn't matter; I've lived." One night we were "COOKIN & JAMMIN; JAMMIN & COOKIN." It came time for Ray to "Take a ride(solo)." Ray started his ride while he was standing in front of his amp. He had his amp on a chair and some coke cases, which brought it to about shoulder level for convenience and a better sound. A little ways into his ride, he made his move. In a dash, he ran at the rail. (Life is full of surprises.) When Ray hit the rail, the rail didn't move an inch; flipping Ray completely over the top and onto the dance floor. The guitar cord was about a foot shorter than the distance between the dance floor and the amp. The principles of that physical fact, jerked the amp almost completely off its stand. David Martin (bass player) was close enough to hold the amp with his right arm. Sparks were flying. There was a tremendous crashing sound of static coming from the amp as I was watching Ray going (There's that slow motion again.) down. He was going down headfirst. He stuck out an arm to break his fall. At that point I'm thinking, "There it goes; broken arm." Somehow, he wound up on his knees. What a move! He turned around to look at the stage (deer in headlights look); did a super quick check on his guitar and kept jammin'. The folks went nuts. When the song ended, Ray did a check on body parts and rig damage. Everything was O.K.
We found out later that the Bouncers (who were really not bouncers at all but brain surgeons in disguise; mererly on a break from their true and beloved profession... If you believe that? I've got a friend who wants to sell a bridge)... As I was saying, the Bouncers had decided to do something thoughtful. Earlier that day, they had nailed the rail down before someone got hurt. Duhhh... Kind thought. They just forgot to tell the band.
"Tell the band? What for? They're just musicians; COOKIN & JAMMIN...
THE JOURNEY
From Texas to Louisiana and eventually to Memphis, Tennessee via the legendary "Highway 61," four young men were in persuit of a goal.... TO GET GOLD. With obsticals, disappointments and personnel changes; David Martin and "Sam The Sham" stayed in the hunt; Joining with Ray Stinnet, Jerry Patterson and Butch Gibson to become "Sam The Sham & The Pharaoh's." The group "Sam The Sham & The Pharaoh's" have their place in the hall of legends, great and small; In the world and where it all began_____ Memphis, Tennessee; Home of the Blues; Birthplace of Rock & Roll.
To Be Continued...