Daily grist; in my almost 80 years of living, most of it outdoors working, hunting and fishing, a life well lived. I have had the company of several fine hunting dogs, my father’s and uncles, as well as my own, mostly black labs a most noble breed of dog. I have listened to stories of magnificent hunting dogs and witnessed the same several times over the years, but I have come to the conclusion that the most noble of them all, is the hot dog. It is the only dog I know that feeds the hand that bites it. JD Rhynes
While watching television last night a commercial for Holiday Inn came on the screen, and it reminded me of the time we played a gig at the Holiday Inn on Weber’s point in Stockton California. We, being the Vern Williams band. The Holiday Inn was a large upscale hotel on the waterfront of Stockton and was built back in the early 60s. It featured a large showroom with a large dance floor and was a very popular night spot in Stockton at the time. The time period being late spring of 1981, right in the middle of the urban cowboy craze that had swept the nation back then. The hotel at the time had a popular country band playing five nights a week in their showroom. They had attracted a large following, and a crowd of 200 or so was not uncommon on a week night. Our good friend Ray Park knew the bandleader and he had talked to Ray into playing fiddle with them on Friday and Saturday nights. Part of the deal to coerce him to come play fiddle, was a free room at the hotel on Friday and Saturday night so Ray would not have to drive back to Placerville, California until Sunday morning. Ray said it was really a sweetheart deal for him, because he was paid more than anybody else in the band plus the fact that he had family in the Stockton area that could go visit with him Saturday’s. But like all sweetheart deals, the powers to be usually pull the rug out from under them and that is exactly what happened to this one.
About four weeks into the sweetheart gig, Ray talked the bandleader into hiring Byron Berline and Vern’s band to play on a Thursday and Friday night to expose the audience to some really high-powered bluegrass music. So off to the Holiday Inn we went on Thursday, got there about six clock in the evening, we were supposed to play2 long sets of an hour and a half apiece, with 45 min. between sets. The band consisted of Byron on fiddle, Vern on mandolin, Keith little on banjo, Del Williams on guitar, and myself on the bass fiddle.
when we got there that night we were introduced to the manager of the showroom, and he gave us a very condescending look, did not shake our hands even though they were offered, turned his back and walked out without a word said. I told the band right then and there, boys don’t be surprised if we don’t get paid for this gig, because that guy is phony as a three dollar bill. He thinks we are a bunch of dumb hicks and he’s already made up his mind not to pay us. We were promised $50 apiece per night. Were it not for the fact that Ray and Byron were two of our best friends, and we had promised them we’d be there to play music with them, we would have left right then. So we kept our word and played for a crowd of well over 300 people that evening, and they really liked our music. After the show was over we visited with Ray and Byron for a while, and Ray said boys, you guys knock them dead tonight, thanks 1 million for being here, I know the hotel is really satisfied with the show tonight, and there’ll be even a larger crowd tomorrow night. So we all headed to Valley Springs that night looking forward to the show the next night. However, my”gut feeling”just would not go away and I knew something was going to happen. It always does when I get that feeling.
I had some business to take care of in Stockton the next day so I called Vern and told him I would meet him at the hotel at six. He said that’s fine, I’ll get Keith and Del and will meet you there. So I headed to Stockton around noon, ran a bunch of errands that I had been putting off and got to the Holiday Inn around 545, lugging my bass fiddle into the showroom. No Ray or Byron, in fact no band members at all. I figured I was too early, but lo and behold here comes Mr. phony three dollar bill. He informed me that Ray, Byron, and that whole bunch of bluegrass people are fired because it doesn’t suit the musical tastes and standards demanded by their patrons, and they will not be subjected to that again. Needless to say, Mr. phony three dollar bill and I had a come to Jesus meeting right then and there ! The old “gut feeling”was right again ! Ray called Vern Friday afternoon right after I had left for Stockton and tell him the news, so I was the only one that showed up that night. Ray really felt bad about us getting stiffed for that gig, but we told him that’s just part of the business and we know he had nothing to do with it. I told the band, the next time we go to play a gig and I get that same gut feeling, we are all going back home, I don’t care if it’s 1000 miles, we ain’t playing for free no more.
Ray told us later that they tried to get him and Byron to pay for the rooms they were given. Some things never change especially in the music business. The^Holiday Inn no longer exists at that location because it was torn down back in the late 80s or early 90s because the rooms were full of asbestos containing materials. Every time I go by the waterfront in Stockton, I can still hear the soaring notes of Byron Berline playing Sally Gooden as only he can, with the metronome like rhythm of Vern’s band booming in my mind ! Wonderful memories of great music played with good friends and a time long ago, the likes of which I will never see again. Dedicated to the memories of Vern and Ray, two of my musical brothers who I miss every day I live.
PS. Just remembered this. A couple of years after we got stiffed for that gig, one of my high school buddies was sworn in as a San Joaquin County Superior Court Judge, and the ceremony was held in a big meeting room at the Holiday Inn. As I entered the hotel that night, who should I see walking down the hall toward me? None other than Mr. phony three dollar bill himself. As we got about 10 feet from each other he realized who I was and he turned a pale shade of gray and turned to his right in the first door he came to. I chuckled to myself, and said; sometimes it is good to be 6’2″ and weigh 240 pounds of pure muscle and bone. Thank you Lord, Amen.
