A CONVERSATION BETWEEN COWBOY JACK CLEMENT AND LOLA SCOBEY

[Part 2]

Sometime in 1976-77

[Re: Jack's office in the RCA Building] There was Archie Campbell, and below him was Chet! So, I would swarm through the whole building sometimes. Terrorize everybody(laughs) And I'd walk right downstairs to Studio A, and right over there to Studio B, and most everybody was around in that neighborhood then, so it was kind of natural . . . my office naturally became a hangout place. We had Juanita Jones right across the hall there. Grady Martin and Floyd Cramer down at the other end. And Kelso over there. And we had a little beauty salon on the third floor for a while. (laughs) Penny and the girls. I went over there one day and became a Malibu blonde. But we'd hang around the beauty salon a lot. And all these songwriters would drift through there -- even songwriters from other publishing companies. I heard every song in town. Kristofferson -- he came there the first day he was in town. In his soldier suit. He had on his captain's suit. Marijohn brought him up.

S: Did he sing you any songs?

C: Naw. I sang him a lot, though. We went out that night and wound up at the Professional Club having a guitar pull. I think he may have sang a song or two. But, you know, I was singing, Marijohn was singing, a bunch of the people there at the Professional Club -- Faron Young, you know, all them people. Hillbillies. Stars. We had a guitar pulling, and ole Kris got totally captivated. A month later he resigned his commission and came out to Nashville. But when he came through here, he was on his way to West Point to be an instructor. . . . They told him if he stayed in, he'd be a general. Yeah, I was up there. I had just made a demo on my two-track, there in my office, and Marijohn walked in with this soldier, this captain. Nice, clean-cut looking fellow. And, uh, she wanted me to play him some tapes and stuff. So I played him some tapes and stuff. That's all I did -- just sat up there and played tapes. (pause)

I'd go downstairs and make records. Had it all in one building. I was my own secretary. Cut my own dubs right there in the of_' Tape copies. Had everything I needed.

S: How did you get to producing Charley Pride?

C: Jack Johnson had played me these tapes. I'm not sure . . . I think it was later that I said OK. I don't think it was the same night. We were at the Professional Club, as I recall, and he'd been telling me about this. I think I had moved to Nashville. But I think he had been telling me about this ever since we were hanging out at the Capitol Park Inn. Several times during the year or so before I came to Nashville. He was telling me about this colored guy, that sang country.

S: All the time you were out in Beaumont, he was playing tapes around town?

C: Yeah, and nobody would buy it. They weren't interested you know … in a colored country singer. That was pretty bizarre back then. But one night me and J. J. were over at the Professional and I said . . . get him in here, and I'll cut him. I'll speculate a grand. So, J. J. made arrangements to do that. A couple of weeks later, or something like that, Charley came to town. And I paid for it. I think I did. Maybe I didn't. Maybe he was going see his father. Maybe I got out of that. But he came to town, and I played him a bunch of songs, and we picked out seven. And he went down to Sledge, Mississippi for four-five days and and I had the session set -- and he had learned them songs good. And I picked out the two of them I liked best, and we cut those two, and then I did a side on me which I later sold to Amy Mala

S: Is that a person?

C: No, it's a record label.

S: What songs did you cut at that session -- on you and on Charley?

C: On him I did two sides. I did "Snakes Crawl At Night" and "The Atlantic Coastal Line." Did that in an hour and a half. And I spent the other hour and a half cutting this thing on me called "What Made the Babies Cry, Mamma," or something like that. And I got $750 advance for it. And I got my thousand out of RCA for the two Charley Pride sides. So I came out $750 ahead right off the bat. (laughs).

S: So it looked good at that point.

C: I made a silly deal. I should have gotten a much better deal from RCA. But, even though I made a bad deal, I still have made a million dollars out of producing Charley Pride.

S: You haven't?

C: I have. About a million dollars. It's just about at that number. Of course, I blew it all. But, I didn't even get a royalty on the first several albums.

S: None at all?

C: No, we all got in an argument back about that time, and I got tired of arguing, so I made a bad deal. Most of which got corrected later. Cause RCA's not a bad ole bunch of boys. They're pretty good ole boys. They will, uh, sometimes go back and make things a little more fair.

S: And they did that?

C: Um hum.

S: Was that Chet's doing?

C: He was part of it. You know, they're gentlemen. It's like ... labels do that. If they're nice.

S: So you took the two songs you cut on Charley to RCA, or to Chet

C: I took it to Chet, because I had been telling him about the whole thing, see. And a lot of people showed up at the session. It was a circus! (laughs) It was full of confirmed spectators!

S: Was the general opinion negative or positive?

C: Ohhh, they loved it! Connie B. Gay was there. He was a good friend of Jack's whose an all-time successful promoter of country music and country talent. In fact, he was influential in getting Chet interested. Because they were on a plane later talking about it, and Chet asked him what he thought, and Connie B. Gay told him, "Back it to the hilt." So, he came by the session. And everybody loved it. Then I played it for Chet, and he turned it down.

S: On what grounds?

C: (Bursts out laughing). They didn't say. I don't know!

S: Was it because they didn't think he could sing?

C: No. I don't know what it was. Chet sent it to New York . . . oh, I don't know how far it got. Anyway, I don't know if he ever actually turned it down or not. Sometimes Chet would never sort of turn something down, he just never would say. But after a time you start playing it for somebody else. After a time of grace period, you can go play it for somebody else. So that's probably what happened. And I played it for a bunch of people who turned it down. I called this one guy. I won't mention his name. But he was the most bigoted, hotshot cat in New York, and I said, "I've got a colored country singer," and he said, "Oh, that's never get you anywhere!" I said, "Well, would you take a listen to it." He said, "yeah," so I sent it to him, and he wrote me a note and told me he didn't think so. (laughs). I was right at the point of putting it out myself, of pressing it up.

S: Did you play it for Sam Phillips?

C: No, Sam wasn't really actively in the record business at that point. I don't remember who all I played it for. I must have played it for all the labels in town.

S: They were afraid of it?

C: I guess that's what it was. I couldn't understand exactly why. When, you know . . . . It's like I told this one guy. I'll tell you who it was! It was Shelby Singleton. He was a big wheel, this ain't so secret, at Mercury at the time. And I sent it to him, and he played it for a bunch of R&B disc jockeys. And they went, oh, ugh, you know. And I said, "Well, Shelby! It ain't R & B. It's country." But, anyway, he passed on it. I said, "Well, look. It's just a record. Put out a record and see. You people put out bad records all the time." But he turned it down. (laughs) And I was just about to press it. But I had a lot of fun with it. At one time I owned the only Charley Pride record anywhere.

S: You still got it.

C: No. It was a tape. I had the only Charley Pride record in the world. And I would get people in there unsuspectingly, and I would play it for them, and they would say, "that sounds great." And then I would show them his picture. And they'd fall over. Cause, you know, he sounded just like a country singer. No, when RCA finally did get around to signing him up and everything, they just went ahead and released it. They didn't tell nobody nothing. Or make any to do about it. They decided -- which I admired them for -- they ought to just treat this as good country product. And put it out there and see. for a long time, or at first, a lot of people didn't know it.

S: So RCA finally called back end said they were going to sing sign him, or did you go back.

C: No. I ran into Chet a down by the Coke machine one day. He said, "What did you ever do with that colored boy?" I said, "I ain't done nothing yet, I'm fixing to press it up. Put it out." He said, I've been thinking about that. We might be passing up another Elvis Presley." He said, "I'm going to the A & R meeting next week in California. Could you get me another acetate?" I said, "Sure." So, I did. And he came back and said, "The boys like it. They want it." So it came out on RCA.

S: How did the first record do?

C: It did pretty well. It opened a lot of doors. It got a lot of play. It didn't get on the charts, but it got a lot of play. It got a lot of attention. They knew it was out there. (laughs).

S: Did anybody refuse to play him, because he was black.

C: Oh, yeah! Not very many, though. And the ones that did, are the biggest fans now, type thing. That's the way that story went. Doesn't that story always go that way? And his second record was kind of a weak record. It wasn't as good as his first record. But it did pretty well. It kept the momentum going. And the third one was one I wrote in Beaumont called "Just Between You and Me," and it got to, like, number four. The others didn't chart at all. They would play them, but they wouldn't chart em. It got play. It introduced him, you know. That happens with a lot of country artists. You have to put out a few records to get them going, and then they click.

S: Was there any talk?

[Rick Shulman comes in, and they start mixing margaritas with this vile green mix Sharon brought in. Jack is talking to a man from the Jack Clement Studio down the street. He wants to make a deal with them so he can come in and practice mixing his tapes at times the studio isn't being used. "But it's got to be at a real slick hourly rate, because I'll just flow in there when there ain't nothing happening. That's part of the thing you've got to do when you cut 24-track. You've got to go listen." They are talking about working a new console. "Well, I like to work in the dark, though. I don't use EQ anyway, all I need's the echo. I put all the echo in the center." Rick Schulman is talking about "Afro-engineering" his drink. They are mixing drinks and Rick forgot to bring the spoon, although Jack had reminded him twice. Big thumps keep coming from the attic and Rick says, "Somebody feed Gerald." Jack introduces Rick as "one of his comical sidekicks." Jack starts stirring the drink with a pencil. A glass full of about 30 "Autograph" pencils is sitting on his desk.]

S: What was Charley's first hit, then.

C: It was "Just Between You and Me." That was his third record.

S: That went up to number four.

C: Something like that, I believe it was number one in one of them

S: You wrote it and published it?

C: I wrote it in Beaumont a year or so before I moved to Nashville. I had a demo I'd made down there. It sounds a whole lot like his record. It just had a piano and a guitar on it, but it was the same pattern with me singing.

Yeah, they were all hits after that. They were all top ten, as I recall. I think they were all number one after that, as I recall. He rocked along for two or three records that got to like 2, 3, or 4, something like that. Then he started having number ones, a whole bunch of number ones. All the albums went number one. I've got a box with 11 gold records in it upstairs. And they owe me a couple more. If I'd get around to listing the ones I don't have, they'd send them to me, but I don't know when I'll get them.

Rick S: They're neatly pack away upstairs, I saw them the other day.

C: I've got all my awards in one pile.

RS: And it only takes up a quarter of the attic. Jesus, Jack, if my piss turns green, you're in trouble.

C: Why have you got to be so gross?

RS: If my pee turns green, you've had it.

S: How long did you produce Charley Pride?

C: Seven years. (he begins singing) (he laughs)

S: You know, whenever I see him on TV, he always seems to be so careful.

C: Well, he's a little overcautious.

S: Was he like that when you were working with him?

C: Yeah.

S: Well, you must have just freaked him out all the time.

C: Yeah. . . . We argued for seven years. We argued from the first day.

S: What about?

C: Anything. Oh, the thing that really got it all started; Charley said that he could sell 100,000 records in Montana.

S: Montana!

C: Well, even Elvis wasn't doing that. I don't know anybody that sells 100,000 records in Montana. Everybody in the state would have to buy two or three. But, anyway, he wanted to do a show up there. Too early. He just knew he'd pack em in, and Jack Johnson got into it, and they went up there and promoted this show. Spent all their money.

And guess who had to cough up come bread when they come back to town, broke? Ole Cowboy. (laughs) And I didn't have any surplus bread to cough up. And I told Charley that -- I wasn't pretending. I was cash short then, just like I've always been. (laughs) And, some months later, he got a royalty check for $135. And I was still cash short, and he wanted $160 for something, but he wanted to frame that $135 check. He wanted me to come up with the whole $160. We argued over things like that -- $35. See, I was Charley's co-manager.

S: With Jack Johnson?

C: Yeah.

S: Was he real self confident?

C: He ain't changed a bit. . . . He's just one of these country boys.

RS: He wanted a Corvette and Rosine made him get a Nova.

C: I like Charley. I called him the other day. He called me back. He wasn't in, he was out somewhere; but he called in and reported to Rosine.

RS: Did you ever get Howard Keel?

C: No, I don't have his phone number. He moved.

S: Did his sound change quite a bit after you quit producing him?

C: It changed quite a bit while I was producing him. That's the reason I ain't producing him now.

S: From what to what?

C: Oh, from choice to . . . what's after that? Good. Or choice to prime. Or prime to choice. I never could tell about beef. I lived in Texas for a year, and I ain't got that straightened out yet. Well, the way I feel about it, it's either Shakespeare or it ain't worth a shit. So, I'm always going for choice or prime. And I don't like steaks that much, anyway.

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C: But I did it and the act of doing it was to get Jerry Lee off this other song, so he'd come back to this other song ... some other song.

S: Do you remember what that other song was?

C: It was called "It'll Be Me" which wound up; being the back side. It wash something I wrote. I devised my first back side there (laugh) ... had it on the back of ;the rain song.

S: So you were writing for Sam as well as engineering?

C: Yes. That was pretty well standard. Everybody ;that worked for him wrote for him. I wasn't under contract.

S: Did you keep writing for him after you left?

C: No. I started my own publishing company when I started Summer Records. Started Jack Music so I could publish the stuff that was on Jack Records.

S: Oh, Jack Music started that far back?

C: 1969. There was already a Jack Clement Music, that Sam had formed and I had 25% of it ... about the last year that I was there.

S: Does it have any songs in it that did pretty well? (Jack Clement Music?)

C: It's got some things that made money, but most of the better stuff is in the other catalogue. Most of it's not in Jack Clement Music. But I needed a publishing company when I started Summer Records. I'd written the songs ... there wasn't any point in giving the publishing to anybody, so I started Jack Music so I could publish them. I didn't like the name. It didn't make any sense ...call it Jack's Music. But I didn't like it

S: Who didn't like it?

C: I didn't like it. Jack Music (laugh) Jack Music. I mean it ain't one of the all time great names, you know.

S: Well, it's to the point.

C: I guess I'll keep it. Since I got songs in there like "She Thinks I Still Care". I was the first one to sing that to George Jones.

S: You were? Under what conditions?

C: He lived outside of Beaumont when I was out there, and he used to come down and hang out at the studio and we'd go across the street to Mrs. Prejean's place ... Rich's Snack Bar. On Friday, they had real authentic cajun gumbo, cooked by Mrs. Prejean and you know, it was kind of like Sun...we'd hang out at the studio for a while and the place over there and there a pool hall in there in the other room and domino players. We'd have to go through there to get to the batnroom...Rich's Snack Bar. We'd sit over there and talk and hear somebody's records on the juke box and eat chili. She made chili everyday and it was great. Great food.

S: So George was in there hanging around?

C: He'd come by to hang around the studio a while and go eat usually. And when he'd be hanging around I'd sing him a tune.He cut some stuff down there. I used to do things with him in the studio. He mostly cut in Nashville.

S: What was he doing? Was he living there?

C: Yeah, he lived in Vidor which was 6 miles out of Beaumont.

S: On, yeah.

C: That's where Kenny Vidor gets his name ...you know, the movie guy. He's from Vidor, Texas.

S: I knew some people that used to live there.

C: Well, George would just come around during the day when he was in town... everybody's gotta be somewhere ...

S: (laugh) True.

C: And I moved down there from Memphis and Bill Hall was there, who used to manage George Jones and George would be one of the guys who could just drop by.

S: Was he performing around? Was he very well known at that point?

C: Yeah, pretty much. I had three number one records with him..."She Thinks I Still Care" which Dickey Lee wrote and then "A Girl I Used to Know" which I wrote and "Not What I Had In Mind" which I wrote. Three singles by George in a row.

S: In a row?

C: That I published and I wrote. That's when I was in Beaumont...we had the studio and we also had "Patches" by Dickey Lee. Dickey Lee was living there. I had moved Dickey Lee and Allen Reynolds from Memphis to Beaumont.

S: How had you known them... what was your connection in Memphis?

C: We go way back to Sun. I used to record Dickey for Sun. And Allen was one of the guys in the vocal group. They were all going to college at that time.

S: You used them all the time on everything?

C: No, in Dickey's vocal group. It was Dickey Lee and the Collegiates.

And he had these four guys that sang with him.. .three or four guys ... and Reynolds was one of them. He was going to school at the time .... Southwestern ...isn't that the one in Memphis?

S: I'm not sure. He still looks like a college student ... today. He's got that clean cut...

C: Yeah ... but after I left Sun ... we got to hanging around together more than anything else and while I had Summer Records I started coming over to Nashville and that's when I started needing songs .... old Dickey started writing some songs. Allen wasn't writing too much back then; he was mostly singing and we just started out together and produced a few things. We did a thing on RCA, it was on Felsted owned by London...with the John Doe Trio which was Dickey and Allen and Gene Botsfort who went off and joined the Navy.

S: Did you have any records on Summer Records that did much.

C: Not really. The first one looked like it was going to be a smash and it fizzled out sort of quickly ... called "Motorcycle Michael" ... (he sings) ... Here's old Shroeder with my motor bom, born bom bom, born...

S: (laughs) Were you singing any?

C: No. I got up the group.

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C: Charley [Pride] always had some kind of fear that I wanted to put some horns, or something with him. (laughs) And that was the farthest thing from my mind. We communicated in a sort of bz-bz-bzt, out of phase way. But we made some good records. Sold millions of records. And I spent all the money making movies and things like that.

S: What brought the whole relationship to a conclusion?

C: I quit. I decided, I just decided that I didn't want to do it anymore at that time.

S: Was it getting boring?

C: No, I was in love with this chick, and I lost all interest in making records. And Charley was a problem child, so I just finally said, "This is the last time I'm gonna do it." That's the last we talked about it. But I finished the last one we did to the best of my ability, and it was a good .

S: What was the last one?

C: "Amazing Love." [Web Editor comment: actually, Jack is incorrect here] But, you know, all his records still goes number one, I guess. But I know where the sales are. You know, I still publish a lot of that stuff, and I still get my producer royalty, and the stuff that's still selling is the older stuff. He still sells a lot of records, but the statements I get, the older stuff is still selling. In pretty large quantities.

S: Does he have a pretty good ear for picking material.

C: Uhhh. . . do you want a one word answer?

RS: I'm ready for it. I think I know the story -- I heard the book before I saw the movie.

C: He'd pick stuff out of the mail. Stuff I don't even listen to, he'd want to record it. (laughs) How about that, friends. No, he had a good . . . uh, gee, he did have good -- he'd hit some real good ones. He'd hit some real bad ones. About half and half. You know, he was very inspired over "All I Have to Offer You Is Me," and that was one of his bigger records. He was very inspired over "Kiss An Angel Good Morning." The really big ones. But some stuff found its way into his albums that I didn't care for that much. Still don't.

S: How would you describe the change in his sound?

C: Well, he ain't got me picking songs for him, for one thing. Or writing for him. I wrote his first three hits, I think. First two, I know. But I don't like to write for somebody unless they want to sing them like I want them sung.

RS: Eggs-actly. (Rick hands him a joint on a roach clip made out of silver wire bent to form the word "clip".) We have such a keen grasp of the obvious, you know.

C: I don't like to hear my songs butchered. I like to hear them done good. That's the reason I decided to take up singing. Because I've always been the star of the Nashville guitar pullers. Motel star.

RS: (song is playing on tape machine in next room) You like that song, Jack? You hadn't heard it?

C: Yeah, I like it. Sure, I like it. I heard it for weeks.

S: What were the major things that happened between when you moved back to Nashville and when JMI started?

C: Well, I made a lot of money with Charley Pride, and I made a movie, and I had an art and photography studio, and I had the most complete music system -- I had everything but a pressing plant. Had my own art and photography department, you know, studios, three commercial artists, film editing equipment, three studios, printing press, three automatic typewriters, and the most sophisticated set of lists in town,-- all the radio stations, etc., trade papers, dailies. And I've still got all that stuff. All the systems, anyway. Cost a lot of money. I just had it all together at the wrong time. Got my shit together, and then couldn't pick it up. Lost interest, because I fell in love with this chick. Lost interest in making records. Then I wrote "Let's All Help the Cowboys Sing the Blues" in 1972. I didn't really much give a shit. I got to where I wouldn't do anything that was any trouble at all. So I spent a whole bunch of money letting other people produce records. Experiment, I told them to experiment. Don't worry about the time. Just go in there and work. I was trying to get a neat little set up like Sam used to have -- get somebody in there to cut records. Cut records? I didn't want to cut records.

S: What did you want to do.

C: Right now, I want to direct a movie.

RS: Jack wanted to be an artist.

C: I wanted to do that so I could direct a movie. But now I'm kind of digging singing. I may just forget directing a movie. I don't know if I want to waste my time doing that kind of thing!

RS: Did you tell her about your movie?

C: Which one?

RS: "Dear Dead Delilah"

C: She knows about my movie.

S: It was on TV just a little while ago.

C: They run it every so often. I lost a lot of money on it. But I don't care about that. I don't really care about the money I've lost, because money is . . . you know, one pile of money looks just like another pile of money. But songs, it's a different story. One pile of songs don't look like another pile of songs. That's the reason I still got all my songs. (laughs) So, I sold all the studios, and the printing press, and all that other stuff. I never did have anything taken away. I just sold all that shit and kept the songs. Like I always said I'd do, if I wanted to. So, I didn't care. I just sat there and spent a bunch more money giving everybody about six months or a year to figure out the show was over, and they better get another job. I didn't bother to fire anybody, because if I was going to do that, I'd have had to do it all in one day, and I'd have had to fire about 10-15 people. I just wasn't up to that. I could have let one or two go, but not 15 at once. I couldn't do that in one day, I figured, so I didn't do it.

S: Tell me about the early months in the little studio you built onto your big studio.

C: See, any of the studios I built in Nashville, I never hardly ever cut any records in them. I guess it's because I didn't build them with my own hands. No, I tell you why. It took too much out of me getting them built and by the time I got them built I lost interest. This time I'm building the studio in the attic. But I don't care when I get the thing built. I got a tape recorder sitting in the bedroom and an echo unit in the bathroom.

S: After you built the studio in Beaumont, the next time you built a studio was when you did the Jack Clement Studio?

C: Yeah. Studio A, which at that time, we built from the ground up, and the other studio was in offices. Publishing, that was my whole thing. But I had this house -- this house, and down there.

S: How did you get enough money to build a studio.

C: It wasn't easy. Cause every time I go into something like that we have a depression, or . . . I never read newspapers or do any research, I just blunder ahead. And I was right in the middle of getting this studio going, and the bottom dropped out of the economy and then you couldn't get the mortgage money or anything, so I had to float the whole thing on 90 day money and this, that, and the other -- borrow money from people, from the banks, I don't know how I did it. It wasn't all that hard, really. Just that when the thing went on the air, we had some 60 sessions booked. It was busy from the day it opened, and it's been busy ever since. Ever since 6 months after it opened, it's averaged about 10% of the country charts. At least 10-12% cut in that one studio.

S: But you never did cut there very much, yourself?

C: No. I'd lost interest in making records. Before that I'd been producing about 15 people, in other people's studios.

S: Who were you producing?

C: Charley Pride, the Stonemans, Glaser Brothers, Mac Wiseman, Hank Williams, Jr., Homesteaders -- a whole bunch of people.

S: But then you lost interest in producing.

C: I got tired of it -- tired of going in the studio kind of knowing what I wasn't going to be able to do. I got tired of the limitations of Nashville, the way it was being done. I had to find a whole new way of making records.

S: Like what were the limitations of Nashville?

C: Not having a regular band that plays together all the time and has a whole repertoire. And doing that whole sort of three-hour session thing. I think musicians -- it's simple -- they just ought to form into groups around here. It don't mean they have to play as a group all the time, but they could have groups, and you could book the whole group, or individuals. Like these vocal groups work. I'm getting that started. I'm gonna organize bands from now on. I've already got a couple. I've got the one I put together from the studio musicians. We played the Exit/In. This was a year ago – Joe Allen, Charles Cochran, Jimmy Isbell. He made some tapes. Then I decided I needed a non-studio band, a functioning band that was a band. To play with and go on the road with and stuff But, see, I've still got a bunch of stuff I worked up with that other band. I've got it all on tape, none of it is records. But I can do any of that stuff, I can get that band back together. Whatever combination you want. Like Isbell, I had him on that instrumental stuff. Isbell and Charles, from that other band, day before yesterday when we did that instrumental tape. But I worked it up with this other band. I added them at the session to rive it some extra little touches.

S: What caused you to build the small studio, then, if you were tired of making records.

C: Cause, every time you build a studio, you've got to have a second studio. Starting with a place to mix down and overdub. So I put a control room where my office was, and moved my office down here in this room

RS: You should have two of everything.

C: I had three of everything. That's when I found out I didn't have to do nothing, I could run the whole thing from right here. And I sat right here and organized JMI one Sunday. I called up Tilla and Reynolds and asked them to come over, I had a proposition. when they got here, I said, "I want to start a record label." And Reynolds said, "You're aware of all the pitfalls therein contained, etc.?" And I said, "Of course." Tilla was great with paperwork and expediting and all that -- she worked with me on the movie and got all into it. S: What was Allen Reynolds doing at that time?

C: He was a songwriter with Jack Music. I had moved him and Dickey over from Memphis, and promised I wouldn't do anything but make them do anything but write songs. But I couldn't resist putting Allen in some kind of . . . I wanted him to run the business. And I'd be the producer, you see, of JMI.

S: He's business oriented?

C: He managed a branch of the First National Bank over there. He'd been working in a bank for five years, and had worked up to branch manager.

S: He's a strange combination of . . .

C: Oh, yeah! (laughs)

RS: Oh, really. Odd, but true.

C: He's a super it talent. Well, uh, oh, yeah, I had him working for me down in Beaumont in the office part-time -- four hours a day, playing in the Tap Room at night. No, I think he'd been able to quit that because we'd all made a lot of money -- he didn't have anything on "Patches", but he co-wrote "I Saw Linda Yesterday" and I think he had the other side, and he had some other things.

S: In his personality is he real quiet all the time?

C: Yeah, he's always quiet. I mean, he don't ever sort of get rowdy or anything, like some of us. He's just sort of level. Even stoned, he's level.

S: So you were gonna make him the administrator and you were gonna be the producer?

C: Yeah, he was gonna run the label and Tilla was gonna take care of all the paperwork, contracts, and stuff.

S: Why did you decide to start a label?

C: Well, because I wanted to quit producing Charley Pride. I produced him about seven years longer than I wanted to. Cause I needed the money. (laughs) I mean, I love Charley to this day, but he was a pain in the neck. As far as working in the studio, for me and him, we had a personality clash. He loves me, and I love him. I miss him. But I still ain't ready to record with him, or anything. And he ain't ready to work with me. .We get along fine. But, somewhere might hear some record that I made sometime and say "yeah, I might try some more of that." Cause I don't produce records the same way I did when I produced Charley. Not at all. I don't even sit in the control room. I used to sit in the control room and "take this, and take that" and write it all down and circle it when it was an M and go on to the next one. Song title, publisher, I had it all there. Very official. I was always late with my paperwork, but when I got it, it was right.

S: Is he still recording the same way you all were recording then?

C: Yeah . . . . basically.

S: So you'd say you've changed more than he's changed?

C: Musically, yeah. Otherwise, I don't know. That's cause I don't like any kind of music anymore. It all sounds alike. Nothing turns me on much. Oh, well, now! There's Emmylou, and I like some of B. B. King. There's a lot of stuff I like, but there's so much stuff I don't like, and in between all that, it ain't hardly worth listening to anymore. So, when the radio don't sound just right, I've learned to just turn it off. I flip all the dials AM and FM, five each, and if I don't find something -- Off! But sometimes if I don't find something on the first push or two -- Off! Sometimes just -- Off! Sometimes the radio will get to you. If you're driving along and something's bothering you. And you realize it's the mood on a record, or something. I don't like electronic music. Well, now I have heard . No, I ain't ever heard anything I like. I hate it all. Electronic music.

S: Why do you think it's so boring?

C: Electronic music?

S: No, you said you don't like any kind of music.

C: It's the repetition. It's like television, it ain't nothing new. I've heard it all. Well, a lot of indications of that. Mainly, people going back more and more to the old stuff. There's some security, some musical security in the old stuff. Some of this new stuff is so out on a limb, and so uptight, and so precise, and so studio sounding, it becomes the thing that circles around the world and runs up its own asshole.

S: It doesn't "move" people, in the Same Phillips sense of "move."?

C: Right. Sam don't like it either. It's music people think they like. (laughs) But it don't make you pat your foot. I really just want to cut dance music for a while. That's my main emphasis. St You think that's the coming thing?

C: That's just what I like right now. I like music that makes me want to dance. I'm just gonna cut records that I want to listen to at home from now on, whether I'm singing it or whoever. That's the reason I'm having trouble finishing my album. Cut about 40 songs, and I've got about five of them I like. Enough. I got a lot of other stuff I could use, but I'm gonna learn about ten more songs. And then finish the album -- if Joe Smith will go along with it.

RS: What's that name again?

C: Who?

RS: Joe

C: Joe who?

RS: Joe Smith

C: Never heard of him.

S: How did JMI get connected with Don Williams?

C: All right!! Well, good ole Don.

RS: This is a story unto itself. Genesis, Chapter Two.

C: So. . . . Don came in here. . looking for a job. So he could move to Nashville from Texas where he was sort of out away from things. Somewhere around Corpus Christi, I think. Which ain't the mainstream of the music business, as far as I know. Anyway, Allen thought the guy was real nice and talented, and we needed somebody to sort of make tape copies and pitch songs down there, and write. Now, he hadn't written all that much. And make records. Reynolds was interested in him as all those things. But his function was, he was a company employee. Working with writers and making demoes in our little studio over there, pitching songs, and all that stuff. So we paid him a salary.

And he got to writing songs, and whenever he'd write a song that we liked or whatever or we cut, we'd sign it up. So, by that process I published a good bit of -- I published some Don Williams songs, there's not that many. He didn't write that many songs, but he wrote some good ones. "Shelter of Your Eyes" is one of my favorites. And "Lay Down Beside Me" he wrote. That's a good song. Strangely enough, he wrote it for me to sing. And Tompall didn't know that, but he sang it at my wedding. When we got married out in the desert in December. Christmas Eve, it was. The first time I was married was on New Year's Eve.

RS: Out in the desert in December. Goll.

C: Well, it was the first time it had snowed in forty years.

RS: Oh, yeah. Is it nice that time of year?

C: It was cold cold, cold! We had rented this Dodge mobile home for the honeymoon cottage, away from the main house where everybody was staying -- Waylon and Jessi and Tompall, Niles, Alison, Sharon's kids, everybody sleeping all over the floors and everything. But me and Sharon had this Dodge mobile honeymoon cottage which was stuck in the sand. Nevertheless, it was close enough that we could be driven to it. I'd got about as far as we could go anyway, we couldn't get it past this little old bridge, anyway, so we got it about as far as we could get it. So it was just stuck. Then after our wedding there Christmas Eve night -- I had got real drunk -- you ever see one of these movies where somebody will come in and spike the punch? And then a little bit later somebody else comes along and spikes the punch? Well, I guarantee you, this was the most spiked punch. Cause, I attended to at least two or three fifths, myself. And everybody was drunk -- all the kids, Sharon's mother, everybody was drunk. And I decided I wanted to go

out and shoot my rifle. So I started out, and I get out there somewhere and Sharon comes screaming out there, "The coyotes will eat you up!" Ahh, "Bullshit!" Well, anyway. I came back in. And me and Sharon, by that time, we weren't speaking. The only reason we slept together was because I couldn't get the heat on. I was too drunk to get the heat on. I thought it didn't work, but later I found out that

if you can read the instructions, anyway I was too drunk for any of that. So we had to sleep under about eight blankets. The only reason we slept together was for body warmth. That's how my marriage started there. Tompall singing "Lay Down Beside Me" that Don Williams wrote originally for me to sing. Tailor-made for my particular type voice. I may sing it sometime. I may get Elvis to sing it. He sang "She Thinks I Still Care."

S: So Don Williams came to work as an employee?

C: Yeah, and he got to writing some songs, and Allen set up a session one day, one Thursday, where I had the house band consisting of Charles, and Joe Allen, and Jimmy Isbell, most of the time, sometimes Kenny Malone. That was pretty much it. Every Thursday at 10 and 2, with lunch brought in. Tilla would attend to that. But she wouldn't get it there on time. I kept telling her I wanted it on time, and she kept not doing it. But, now, when I set up that same thing during that rehearsal trip -- we went from 11:30 -- we finally settled on 11:00 and went to 1:30, that's two and n half hours, break at 1:30 to 2:30 for lunch, which we served right here. And, if the lunch is right, we can get back to work in about 30 minutes. Nobody leaves. Then, when I feel the boys are getting ready to blow again, I say, strike up the band. And after lunch we go for an hour and a half. Well, that's a working day, making music. That's about all you can get out of people in a day. That's what I concluded.

S: So Don was in on those sessions?

C: Well, no. Allen booked one of those Thursdays for Don to be the artist. Sometimes we'd have several people in one day. It was very informal to start with -- I'd sing n song or two, and then Allen would sing a song or two, and somebody else would sing. Waylon dropped by one day and we just did it with him all day.

S: You've still got all those tapes.

C: Yeah. Some of those things we did with Waylon came out on Waylon's album before last. "Gypsy Woman." That was my Thursday band. Pretty much the same band I've still got -- Charles and Isbell and Joe Allen. Anyway, they cut about six really good tracks that one day And Bobby Bare was there, dropped by, and I dropped by, and Tilla dropped by, and everybody dropped by, and we were all saying, "Hell, we've got us n seller here. Let's go to work now." So we got a single out. We put out one we didn't think would sell. We put out one we thought would get attention, but wouldn't sell but about seven or eight thousand, and that's about what it sold. May not have ten, about twelve, actually. I didn't put it out expecting to make any money off it. I thought it was the right introductory record.

S: What was that?

C: "Don't you believe we've gone far enough" It was kind of a nice tempo thing. But that same day he cut "Shelter Of Your Eyes". And that was the one everybody liked, but I didn't want to start off . It was kind of a nice tempo thing. But that same day he cut "Shelter of Your Eyes." And that was the one everybody liked, but I didn't want tstoff with that, so we purposefully held it back, knowing it was a better record. But I wanted to get him started with that other thing, because "Shelter of Your Eyes" is a ballad and people are always wanting good uptempo kind of records. Certain records they'll play a lot, but they won't sell much. But on a country artist you've got to figure on throwing away a record or two anyway. Very few of them hit it the first time. Rodriguez did it I think. "Pass Me By" It's just hard to get that much attention from them cats. The country thing is kind of spread out. Has been for a long time. I don't even know what they're talking about. ;hat do they mean when they say country music! What? well, don't tell me, I know. (laughs) They mean the stuff that you see whenever you see somebody country on television.

S: Oh, No!

C: And I don't dig that too much. See, I'm hillbilly. Shitkicker.

RS: He's a cultural Jed Clampett.

C: I lived in the country since I was a kid. Well, not right out there in the country, I lived on the highway, though. But we had four acres behind us and a pond and a pony, a horse. Garden. Hogs. Chickens. No cows, though. Cause I wouldn't have drunk milk out of a cow. I wouldn't do that now. No, man. It's got to be homogenized, pasteurized, smash all the atoms. I like non-dairy creamer that you get on airlines. You know, I drink that stuff.

S: So the second record was "Shelter of Your Eyes. "

C: Yeah, it sold about 40-50,000. The next one sold about 60,000.

70,000.

S: Was he your first artist.

C: No. He was one of the early ones. The first one was Bob McDill. We put out a record that sort of took off here, it's called "Song for Nan." It wasn't country. They played it a good bit on the pop stations here. But it just didn't sort of quite have it. But it was close. It was one of the early things. You know, when this thing started to take shape, we could hear it! Cause we'd cut these tapes and listen to them. And some of it was sounding good, and we could hear the formation. I have all those tapes. I got tapes on Charley Pride down there. RCA don't even know they exist. I paid for them. Just to get it done. I let Charley Pride into that Thursday thing. I paid for it, including his demoes. He'd get in there and work with the band, and we worked up "Kiss An Angel Good Morning".

J: ...was a Thursday get together, after that we did it that way everytime. It worked the first time and Charley couldn't argue with it. I mean you know, we cut a million seller single, next day after we did this the first time.

L: Were you still producing him then?

J: Yeah...he was at his peak then. I had a studio and a band and they got together every Thursday and we'd break for an hour at lunch. I had 3 sessions set, but I found out after the second one, forget it.

I went back to the morning one only, then two or three days in between, and then another morning one.. Then two or three more days inbetweeen - just do a session every week.

L: What did he think of that approach -- Charley Pride?

C: Well, it was so obvious. We went down there the next morning and cut "Kiss An Angel Good Morning" the same way, with the same musicians -- no echo, add that later. And it was a million seller. Now you can't argue too much with that. He bitched a lot though?

L: He didn't like it?

C: He didn't like it. ;hen he was in town, then when he was on the

road he loved me And I loved him when he was on the road. In fact, I kind of looked forward to Charley drifting into town and making records But it didn't last too long once he got here and we got together. Just a personality conflict. It happens in the best of families. It didn't have to do with race, creed, or religion, or nothing.

L: How much does smoking grass have to do with the JMI sound?

RS: Who smokes grass?

C: Yeah. Who's JMI?

RS: What's grass? (laughs)

L: How did you first meet Waylon, get to know him?

C: I think I met him at a Johnny Cash demo session. I had heard some of his records prior to that and dug them.

L: Was that in Memphis or Nashville.

C: That was here. Waylon came to Nashville a year or so after I came here I don't know if that's the first time I met him, but that's the first time we were around each other. Cash had asked me to help him produce this demo session. And I guess he'd asked Waylon to do that too. He'd taken a real interest in Waylon. He really helped Waylon get started. He took him on the road with him.

L: Waylon played on the road with him?

C: Yeah. He did his own thing, but he was part of the show for a while. But, anyway, we were both there helping Cash do some demoes. Waylon, he didn't like the way I was looking at him. He was paranoid. He'd be playing the guitar and I'd be walking by. I was just observing, you know. And he went up to Cash and said, "If that son of a bitch looks at me that way again, I'm gonna hit him." And Cash said, "No! He loves you, he's always playing your songs." So he didn't.

L: He lived with Johnny for a while.

C: Yeah. They were both pillheads at the time.

Jim Rooney: When I first saw him, he reminded me a lot of Cash. I saw him on a show up in Massachusetts -- Buck Owens and Porter Wagoner. And he came out -- he was all dressed in black, and he walked just like Johnny Cash used to walk, you know, when Johnny Cash was prowling around stages.

You remember Sanjek's story about when they changed personalities? They spent a week together in Jamaica or something like that, and Waylon came back and Cash came back acting exactly like Waylon was, and Waylon was acting exactly like Cash.

L: How did you get around to doing producing on Waylon?

C: Me and Waylon were always just sort of mutual admirers. We talked about working together a long time before we did. I had the JMI thing set up every Thursday. Well, I ran into him at RCA one day, and I told him what I was doing. I said, "I'll have the band there, and you just fall in and do whatever you want to do." No contracts or nothing. So vie went in and cut these super sides! One of them was "Gypsy Woman." And I tried to get RCA to put it out. And Waylon tried to get them to put it out, but they wouldn't. I had Chet Atkins come out here and I sat him in that chair in there, and made him listen to it, a couple of times. But he just couldn't hear it. Harry Jenkins, who was Chet's boss, I had him come out here and sat him in that chair in there. It's the only time RCA just flat ass wouldn't.

Rick Sanjek: Was there a problem about cutting in their studio at that time?

C: Well, I mean, I would have cut it at their studio. We just wanted them to put out that record.

RS: I thought what held it up was that it wasn't cut at the RCA studio

C: That's not really what held it up. They just didn't hear it. It didn't sound like country music.

I paid for all that Stuff. I still own that master, I never actually sold it to them. I've got several other singles in the can by him during that period of time.

L: He must have really slid right into that JMI sound.

C: I've got stuff by Charley Pride that I own. I couldn't do anything with them, but I paid scale for them. They're cleared with the union. And RCA don't have their engineers anymore, so now that a wouldn't

be a problem. I never could understand why they couldn't hear "Gypsy Woman " They just refused to put it out. Well, they weren't too happy with ..aylon right then. I was actually gonna be his manager there. He cut it before Don Williams. It's on the "Dreaming My Dreams" album.

RS: We've had trouble getting that song out. Don Williams wouldn't release it as a single, either.

L: Why not?

RS: Because he didn't have production on it.

L: You were gonna be Waylon's manager?

C: Yeah, for a while.

RS: Neil Cowboy.

C: Cause he just needed one so bad at that point?

Somebody: Is he a good manager for him?

C: Yeah.

L: How come nobody likes him.

C: He's a nut.

(tape stops, then starts)

L: Let's start back about you being Waylon's manager.

C: That's just something we talked about. We never did actually do it. It just went on for a few weeks there after we did "Gypsy Woman." And I thought RCA would love it, and want to put it out, and dig the sound. But they didn't. So, we couldn't get that done, so just didn't do it.

L: What was Waylon's situation at that point? He was being produced on RCA by a staff producer?

C: Yeah. Different people at different times.

L: Was he already beginning to get the idea that he'd like to produce himself?

C: I don't think he was too much into that. He just wanted to be able to make some kind of records that sounded like him. They wouldn't let him cut with his own band. Which I think was a mistake. Cause he does that now. The records sound great. But they didn't want anybody to cut with their own band.

L: What difference would it make to them?

C: Too stylized for them. The studios, everything, got too sort of structured around here They'd be set up for a certain sound on the drums and bass, and a lot of these road guys would come in, and they're not used to the studio work and they wouldn't move as fast . . . The studios just weren't into styles. They were more into production.

L: When was the next time you and Waylon tried to work together after that?

C : When we did the "Dreaming My Dreams With You" album. It was at least two years later, maybe three. I hadn't seen Waylon in a long time, and I hadn't been out much. I'd heard a couple of records on the radio that I liked, that sounded right. So I called him one day and said, "Are you free for just you and me to go into the studio and make some records?" And he said, "Yeah." So we set up a time about two weeks later And for a couple of days we went in there and cut six or seven sides. And we decided to do an album.

L: Did you cut at RCA?

C: No, we did them at Glaser Studios. By then Waylon had it where we could cut where he wanted to. And name his producer.

L: Was this after he was dealing with Tompall.

C: I don't know what their deal was. Waylon had an office in the building, and he used the studio. I don't know what arrangements they had . . Waylon likes to be able to go into the studio and stay for a long time, or just kind of go in when he wants to.

L: Was that when you all did "Let's All Help the Cowboys Sing the Blues?"

C: Yeah

L: But you had written that song a while before?

C: Yeah Waylon first heard that song when Marshall Chapman was singing it over here in the Jolly Ox in Green Hills. That's the first time Marshall put a band together, must have been three years ago. Played there several months and was getting a good following. A lot of music people used to drop in. So Waylon heard her sing that song, and they came knocking on my door about two in the morning. Waylon

said he wanted to cut that song, and I said, "I'd love for you to, but I've promised it to Marshall." So, Marshall tried it some time later, and it didn't come off, so the song got free for him to cut it.

L: So you just work with him on and off whenever you all are in the mood to do it?

C: Yeah, that's basically it. When the moon's right.

L: How did you get to producing Tompall and the Glaser Brothers?

C: Well, we'd talked about it off and on for several years, Tompall and Don Light kind of brought that together. He was managing Tompall at the time, and he felt like he could keep me and Tompall from hurting each other, or something.

L: Has anybody ever mentioned to you how much some of Tompall's mannerisms are like yours?

C: I don't know of anything like that lately.

L: I got to know him before I got to know you, and when I got to know you, it was uncanny. It was like seeing something in a dream.

C: Lamar's picking up a lot of my mannerisms. Have you noticed?

L: Bob Webster has some of your mannerisms.

C: Everybody picks up everybody's mannerisms. I pick up things from people.

L: Was the idea with Tompall and the Glaser Brothers to try to break them pop?

C: No, not necessarily. But I've always . . . I started off where you cut records. Well, anytime we might come up with the right kind of thing that would go pop, but I never set out to do something "pop", quote, unquote-with anybody much at all.

L: Do you think any music you cut on them was in any sense ahead of its time.

C: Some of it was. I cut some good records on the Glasers. Some of it still sounds good. I think that's the test of a good record - if it sounds good years later.

L: Which ones do you still like?

C: "California Girl and the Tennessee Square." "Last Thing on My Mind" -- I cut the first country version of that song. Some of the stuff I overproduced. Not grossly. Not anymore than a lot of people around here. But some of it was a little overproduced.

[Terrell comes in and he's worried about one of the guys getting home He orders a vodka. They've been sniffing cocaine. "I'm not giving you any good answers, am I" He gets out his grass and starts rolling a joint" ]

L: Was there something going on back then that you would call a forerunner of the outlaw movement? Whatever that is.

C: (long pause) I don't know. What was the outlaw movement, anyway? I don't think it ever got defined. I think it went by so fast it never got defined. It was kind of like breaking the rules or something, but I was doing all that years ago

(He tells me to turn off the tape recorder. He is disturbed over talking about the outlaw movement. He says he doesn't like to talk about it, because he doesn't really identify with it. He doesn't care for the term outlaw because that sounds like it might be encouraging somebody to go out and be "rowdy or something." The people who are in it, aren't outlaws. And who is it, anyway besides just Willie and Waylon -- maybe Jessi, Tompall? Possibly David Allen Coe and people like that. He doesn't especially identify with some of the music, either. It was just a good idea.)

C: The outlaw movement to me was basically a protest against the regular Nashville cliques and establishment. And there were some cliques around here. There are -- but a family's a clique. Nothing

wrong with having a band, if that's a clique. Maybe clique is the wrong word. But! A band is kind of like a clique. But there were cliques here based on things other than who played the best and stuff like that. They were people in business together, and they worked together, and they never thought about changing things much -- just kinda do it enough better than the competition to sell a certain percentage more. Merchandise. I'd rather sell no records, or a whole bunch of them. Be either right or wrong. Nashville is a lot of times afraid to be right or wrong. They are afraid to align with a definite statement. I mean, you know, there's a difference between being conservative and not having any guts. I guess I must have always had guts. I was afraid, but I did things anyway. But, I mean, everybody's always afraid, even if they've got guts. But I think a lot of people get into a thing where they've got guts, but they don't use them. There's a lot of really talented musical heads in this town that are going to waste cutting the same thing over and over. I basically don't like much of the music I hear these days on the radio. I've heard it before. I want to hear something I haven't heard before Now, the first time I heard Elvis Presley on the radio, I knew I was hearing something I hadn't heard before. Whatever it was, it just drew me right to it.

L: Do you think Waylon has that original charismatic quality about him.

C: Oh, yes! I don't think there's anybody in the business that's more talented than Waylon. He's a multi-talented person. He's learned a lot in the last several years. Waylon had to learn a lot. Waylon, to me, -- he would be the Lone Ranger. Ever since there's been somebody that's been at odds with the system, it's been Waylon.

L: In his whole musical career?

C: Well, ever since he got to Nashville. The funny thing about it -the people who were working with Waylon back in those days had good intentions. And they believed in him. Waylon has always had a lot of people on his side.

L: I know Chet Atkins told me when he first heard Waylon, he thought he was a dynamite talent. Plus he had this tremendous aura about him.

C: A lot of people did. I never saw him, of course, out there; but I hear he was really something when he played out there in Phoenix. He played the same place for years, and packed em in, and everybody loved the music. And he had his own band and everything. Well, it is pretty obvious now that Waylon should have recorded with his own band. But that wasn't as obvious back in those days as it might appear. For the simple reason that if you're gonna work with . . . well, road bands were different back in those days than they are now. They seem to be better, there's some really good road bands out there. Guys that would make it in studios, and a lot of them will. But there's more and more people coming along seeing the pitfalls of being a session player.

L: Musically, you mean?

C: Musically and every other way. You know you do that for a number of years, and you really get burned out on it. I remember how I got tired of teaching dancing. I couldn't be a session player. I couldn't take it. And you can't be "on" musically, or any other way, for nine to twelve hours in a row.

L: Do you think Waylon himself, knew or felt he ought to be recording with his own band?

C: Yeah. He probably even may have tried it. I don't know, but he maybe may have tried it once or twice, but, he didn't have the right band and it just didn't sound like . . . people play sessions and they get to where they can give you a predictable thing every time. Bass tones, so on. And, you know, when you're spending that kind of money on three hour sessions, you've got to move fast. But, there's a difference. I think people ought not to just learn the songs they are going to record. They ought to learn other songs that will add extra dimension to the ones that they record. You've got to form a band. That's what I'd like to see these sidemen do -- form bands. You create a sound and a style. You look for an identity as a group.

Musicians are good people. You know that? Musicians have always been more opened minded. Sort of . . . basically honest. To me. The ones who enjoy playing their music. You know. There's a thing between musicians that transcends, like racial. Musicians were the first people to get together with black people. They got together with them because they liked their music. That was good enough! Musicians have historically sort of set the clothing styles and so on. There's times when you could call a bunch of different people together and form a band there in the studio, and put outsome fantastic stuff I'm not against that totally. But there's people here who are playing stuff that's so beneath them. Musicians should play with people who are as good as they are or a little bit better. And when a guy's sitting there playing music that's just like something he did yesterday, you don't even have to think about it! But I think people ought to get together in bands and work up a repertoire. So that's a good reason to cut with somebody's band. If they've got a good band! If they don't have a good band, then you put one together.

L: When Waylon finally got the right to play with his own band, was it a big struggle, or were they more willing to give in at that point

C: The biggest problem was always the unions. The engineer unions. RCA is tied in with NBC, and Columbia is tied in with CBS. The networks have these contracts.They're in house Unions.If you recorded in some other studio, you had to take two RCA engineers over there. Well, RCA shouldn't be in the studio business unless they're really good at it. And it's hard for a big company like that to have an outstanding studio. Cause they move too slowly. They got to ask too many people for nine months to get some kind of little gadget.

L: Was the Dipsy Doodle Construction Company a JMI band?

C: It was a band and it was also a construction company. It was part of the studio operation

L: You literally built things?

C: Yeah, like we built Ray Stevens second studio. We built a big fine room for Donna Fargo And we put in a real special sound system with cabinets and everything for Mel Tillis. About a $10,000 job there in his office. I had a lot of built in things. Like my photographer was a civil engineer. And I had the engineers at the studio who could design any kind of sound installation anybody wanted.

L: Who was on the construction crew?

C: I had one carpenter (Gerald) and a helper.

L: And you used the same name for a recording group?

C: Yeah. After we built the little studio, we had some more work that needed doing, cabinets and things. And one carpenter who came in about half way through the job just really caught my fancy with his talent. I get as a kick out of finding a good carpenter like I get a kick out of finding a good musician. (talks about carpenters) (Tells about how

he and Charlie Tallent hired Gerald as their carpenter). I'm the only publisher in Nashville with a full-time carpenter. That's what Allen Reynolds said.

L: Was this during the heyday of JMI?

C: Before and during

(talks about the kind of construction work they did for others)

We'd do it, and do it right, and charge them 15%. So in a sense, I was sort of booking a carpenter. (tells how they were going to expand into specialty installations like putting a seascape in someone's living room.)

L: How did it come about that Don Williams left JMI?

(he tells me to turn off the tape so he can think about it. How do you say a guy chickened our, he asks. Says Don's payroll check would bounce -- always Don's, if anybody's. Although they were always made good. And Don's wife was real security minded. Also, JIM needed a sales manager, although he feels they were selling as much or mote as a major label would on an artist at that stage. He and Don never related to each other very closely.)

C: About Don Williams. I somehow neglected to sign Don Williams to a contract, feeling that that wasn't necessary because we were of one accord and sort of a family. But I wasn't around Don a lot. Allen Reynolds was. I was there at a lot of the sessions.

L: Do you think Allen was real personally hurt when Don left?

C: Yes. Yeah, he was. He was more hurt than I was, really. ‘Cause it was kind of like I was . . . detached. I was ready to keep the label going, but we didn't have much else . . . we had something happening -- starting to happen. But not enough to sustain the sort of staff we had at that time. ‘Course we had a lot of things we didn't need. We didn't need a third studio.

L: Jack's Tracks?

C: I didn't need that. Allen Reynolds said he needed that, so he got it. Now he's bought it and cuts his records there. But I built it for him, because -- I don't know, I couldn't get the right cooperation from some of the other people at the other studios. People just couldn't get into working together. I thought of it all as one company - it had different names, there was Jack Clement Studio, there was Jack Music, there was two or three other things. I thought of it all as one thing, but the other people wanted to form into little - guess it was the get-up-a-ballteam kind of thing. I had a little friendly competition right in my own house. I wasn't so friendly sometimes, either. They couldn't seem to grasp the totality of the thing. That if it was good for the record label, it was good for the studios.

L: So you were trying to get a studio deal set up where you could go in and spend a lot of time?

C: No. We had enough time. Every producer wants to have his own studio And just let it sit there until he gets the urge to make a record. But that's not an unreasonable proposition -- but its very expensive. And you can cut hit records without having your own studio. I've done it both ways. I've cut many more hit records in studios I didn't own. But, look at it this way, if it takes a $250,000 tool to create this thing, well, you need that. A picture you can paint for $3.75. You can paint the Mona Lisa for $10 worth of canvas and oil paint. But if you want to make a record, you've got to have a $250,000 studio.

L: So you bought Allen a studio?

C: I built a private studio in addition to the ones that we had for rent. One just for our own use. Even RCA didn't have their own studio just for their own use. JMI did. I thought, you know, we've got to give these people a work bench and the right tools. So I wound up with three studios.

L: Jack's Tracks used to be a monument to Jack Kennedy.

C: A museum. Before that, it was an art gallery.

L: Which one of Don Williams' records sold 112,000.

J: "We Should Be Together"

L: And his albums were selling about 40-50,000.

J: More than that. I think we did about 50-60,000 on Don Williams, Volume I, his first album. But we had built up to that point with singles. His first single sold about 6-8,000 and I think it went to about 40,000; then to about 60,000 and about 80,000 and then 112,000. That's the way it is with country music It took a couple of years to get him to that point. And that's about what it takes with a country artist -- if he's good.

L: He didn't really indicate to you that he was discontented; he just wrote you a letter?

C: He didn't do that. Just one day Earl, who was running the business at that time, said that Don Williams might not sign that contract. I said, I thought we already had a contract. he said, "We don't. I never did do that." So I met with Don one time and we talked about it

a little bit. I said, "Let me know what you want to do, Don." And he said, "Okay." So about a week later I called him and said, "Where are we at " He says, "That part about leaving." Which is a line from a song I'd been cutting with Charley Pride. (he starts singing "That Part about leaving, say it slow. One more time love, which way do we go?") I said, "Is that right?" And he said, "I reckon so." I said, "Good luck." I could have stopped it, if I had wanted to. I could have raised all kinds of hell, but I didn't want to. I mean, I didn't want anybody to stay, if they didn't want to be there. He could have let me know a little sooner, though. Before I got all those people ready to go.

L: Had you recovered from your love affair yet?

J: (laughs) I don't remember. It was happening all during that time. I just sort of went into suspended animation for about a year. But, strangely enough, the record label was doing real well, and moving ahead every month.

L: Who was handling the business at that point.

J: Well, you see, originally Allen was going to handle the business and I was going to be the producer. But Allen got to producing Don Williams and the product was real good, and we went with that. So that left old Cowboy to handle the business. Ole Cowboy don't dig too much of that, anyway. I hate to read contracts. Paperwork! Cause that's not the business I'm in. I'm in the business of making music.

L: How much did Don Williams contribute to the JMI sound? Was he just the guy who sang it, or did he actually contribute?

J: I have to think about that a while; He was just part of it. So was Charles Cochran, so was Joe Allen, so eras Allen Reynolds and Waylon and me and Tilla and Vincent Casey and Bob Alou. We all dug music. We thought we could sell it, and believed in it. So then Don went and signed up with somebody else.

J: The word producer wasn't even used in the record business at that time. When I was producing at Sun, I was running the board and the whole thing. Just one person in the control room, and the other people were out there. There wasn't any producer sitting there. I'm really into sort of back to the same way we made records. You can't call it back to mono, but back to doing everything at once when the whole band is there. Rather than stacking tracks. It's more real. If you're going after performances -- the kind of records I'm trying to make. You've got to have the performance by everybody at once. It's a thing of the moment. To get five people doing that thing on the same time continuum. If you're going to do somebody else's part later, you're moving around in time and space. You're guessing it at. You're trying to recreate a mood. Rather than create one, you're trying to get back into something. And you get fooled that way You get all confused and think that things sound good, when they really don't. Somehow the music gets lost in all this shuffle. That's the reason music sounds so shitty these days.

L: What was the atmosphere at the Sun studio at that time?

J: It was like a party. It was very informal. I had these people I'd call when I wanted to do something, and we had it all worked out about the hourly rate, and they'd just keep track of their hours and turn them into Sally. They'd be there for all day.

L: There wasn't any union?

J: Yeah, there was, but Sun was kind of the only thing in town, and they were letting it rock. They thought $2 an hour was kind of good. For daytime work, you know. I kept it to where it didn't interfere with their nighttime gigs. It was mostly a daytime trip. A band with Carl Mann. Remember "Mona Lisa"? That was one of the last records I cut there. And Sonny Burgess had his own band. And those guys, we'd stay in all night.

L: But they didn't give you any production credits on records, or any kind of royalty?

J: No. I would have made a ton of money, if they had of.

L: What were some of the other records you did while you were there?

J: I did most all of Jerry Lee's stuff, and a whole lot of Johnny Cash stuff. Actually, I did most of his Sun Records hits except "I Walk the Line" and his early stuff. I played guitar on several of them "Ballad of a Teenage Queen."

L: How much musical control did you have? Did everybody just kind of sit down and let it happen?

J: I was pretty much it. Now, Cash would come in with things kind of worked up, and they sounded good. But if they didn't sound good, I would go look for something else. It was a hell of a lot more totalitarian than it is now, but it was natural. It seemed to be. It's like that was what I was supposed to do. They were there to sing, and I was there to take care of everything else. Now, I tried to always encourage the flow of ideas. I don't like to come up with ideas, except when nobody else is doing it. If there was a lag, or something wasn't going somewhere, I'd change it.

L: But sometimes you'd be sitting out there on the floor playing, like leader of the band, then you'd run in and do some of the controls, and then you'd go back out there and you all would play, and then you'd listen to it.

J: Yeah. But there wasn't any time limit. We could just take as much time as we wanted.

L: You'd just cut til the feeling was right, or if it didn't work out, you'd quit and come back another day?

J: Yeah. When Johnny Cash would come in off the road to make records, he'd usually be there all week. Or for two or three days, anyway. And he'd have songs that he'd written while he'd been gone. And he was easy to work with. I'd augment his band sometimes with people like Charlie Rich.

L: What was Charlie Rich doing?

J: We were making records with him, and using him as a sideman, and he was playing around town. He was living over in Forest City, Arkansas, but he'd stay in Memphis sometimes for a week or two at a time playing nightclubs. When he was there, I'd use him a lot.

L: What were you looking for in your musicians

J: Oh, I don't know. They just kind of drifted in. I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I was looking for somebody that sounded commercial, was good to work with, and would work for that kind of price.

L: Where was the nearest recording studio to Memphis.

J: Nashville.

L: Did they ever get asked to come over to Nashville to play?

J: No. Nashville was going in a whole different direction at that time. They didn't understand the Memphis thing. They resented it. They wanted in on it, but they didn't understand it. Not many people came over from Nashville. A few of them did. Vic McAlpine did.

L: What was Sam Phillips' personality like?

J: Oh, it would take me a month to even start on him. He was amazing. I thought he was a jerk, really, when I worked for him. I didn't really understand his genius.

L: You didn't like him?

J: I like him. He seemed awfully ego-centered. Domineering.

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J: This in terms of the two ways to shoot a movie that I have figured out. One way is you spend a lot of money. And the other way is you don't spend any. Now you can actually, if you're quick enough and good enough, you could put a movie together and float the whole thing for 90 days. If you can get the right people to believe in you.

L: What size operation do you have in mind at this time?

J: A billion dollars. In five years.

L: How many people.

J: I don't know. May can do it with three or four. I don't want to be an executive. You see, I'm going to structure something that will eventually phase me out of it. That's the key. Part of the theory of the billion dollar trip is that I would phase myself out. Not set it up where I would run it. I like to build studios. I don't like to operate them. I like to build houses, but I don't necessarily like to live in them. I like to start things, and then get out.

The whole thing with the billion dollars is always that that's kind of a hobby. That's not the direct goal, that's the indirect goal. That's something to talk about and try to pull off just for the gamesmanship of it. What am I going to do with a billion dollars? I don't need a billion dollars right now. I need about $25,000. I don't even really need that much . . . today. The only thing to do with a billion dollars is build spaceships. I'm going to build spaceships with it. That's the defined goal of the company. Not for any high flown reasons. I just always wanted to be a spaceman. See the other worlds. Like when I joined the Marine Corps to see the world, I didn't see it. But I can see the world now by becoming a singer. I can travel around and see the world free. And get paid for it, too. If I set it up right.

L: Somebody told me Sam Phillips is real wealthy today because he invested in Holiday Inns.

J: Well, I don't know what the story is. You'd have to ask him, and I don't think he'd tell you, because I've never been able to find out how much stock he has, how much he paid for it, except last time we talked about it, it was way down, and he wasn't happy about the whole thing. It may be back up now -- see, I don't keep up with stock. Or politics. That's the reason I might be a good governor of Texas sometime.

J: There's a story, you see, about Cowboy and bankers. The story about the bank is that they loaned me the money too easy. Back then they listened, but they're not listening to me now. We're in the home stretch, and they ain't listening to me.

L: Disillusioned?

J: Yeah, but it wasn't really my fault. If the economy hadn't failed, I never would have touched, uh, poverty. I could have floated right above the whole scene comfortably. But with all the faux pas I committed, when the economy did what it did, I got financially embarrassed. I've always paid them back money, but never when I said I would.

(Jack puts on the tape of the album he produced on Louis Armstrong)

J: See, I've got all these people around town that I want to telling everybody that I'm a genius. Chet Atkins. I'll send you over there to ask him formally: "Do you think Cowboy's a genius?" And the son of a bitch better say yes. Cause he tells everybody in the coffee shops and the Pancake Pantry. And Johnny Cash will tell you I'm a genius. Waylon. I've got a bunch of people who say I'm a genius. That don't make me a genius. You've got to be pretty smart, though, to get all them people to say that on cue. I've got it set up to where they'll say it on cue. And I'll send my journalist over to ask them. And those fuckers better say yes, or I'll call them up on the telephone.

I want to get all my philosophies in print. Get it set up where I can run for governor.

L: Governor of outer space?

J: No. Just Texas

See, I've got quotes I've been making up for years. They're all part of the same continuity. Like make a billion dollars in five years. The continuity is doing the impossible. The way to do the impossible is go ahead and do every little thing . . . but that.

"If you're going to believe in magic, you've got to do it all the time." That's one.

L: That was a pretty good one you had about you wanted to make movies so bad, you became one.

J: I want to cut some dance music. I'm the only fucking dancer in the United States . . . at this point. I may only have the title for five minutes. At this time, I'm the best dancer in the United States. I had an argument with Paul McCartney one a time about who was the best dancer. We couldn't settle it, because we didn't dance, we talked about it. He said he was the best dancer in England, and I told him he was the best dancer in the United States. Later on, I asked him if he had ever made a record he was really happy with, and

he said he kind of liked "Yesterday." I said, I kind of like it, too, but I think you ought to redo it. He didn't rule it out. He didn't jump up and say, "What do you mean telling me something like that!" or anything like that. He said, "You could be right, Cowboy."

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J: Everybody's a story. Every man is an island unto himself. There is no communication. It's all a myth. It's all a figment of somebody's imagination. There is no communication really. Not by any direct means. Any meaningful communication comes through music or some other common expression. It doesn't come through conversation. Nobody could ever say what's on their mind. I've been trying for years just to say what's on my mind. But you can only do it in little bits and pieces. But. I also found out that people don't remember you for your flops. They remember your hits. So, for that reason, I'm not going to cut anything anymore but hits.

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J: I decided today that I don't want to be a cowboy any longer. I'm going to be a retired cowboy. I'm going to be in the cowboy business. Now, we've got a picture here we can run. Of me standing on a horse. To prove that I can stand on a horse and throw a rope -- even though the rope was wire. We can tell that or not. We can just say, "Here is an early picture of Cowboy." Or we can say, "Cowboy was theatrical even back then." But that ain't the tricky part of doing this, anyway. It's standing on a horse that counts. You can learn to twirl a rope standing on the ground. You see, I take Monday off. I have for years. Nobody believes it, but I do. Monday's the only day I get serious, though. See, everybody comes into the office on Monday all .. . they want to call everybody. Tuesday is the day to call everybody.

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J: Punctuation is awfully important. You've got to not waste a jot or a title. Or a word. See, Shakespeare wasted a lot of words. Shakespeare really was a fucking hack. So much of it is laborious. I have a feeling that Shakespeare really was a very musical person. But he sublimated it all with an abundance of words. You turn too many words over to a bunch of irresponsible intellectuals, and you'll end up with a bunch of garbled nothing. I'm into Shakespeare as a personality. I haven't read much of Shakespeare.

J: I worked on an arrangement where I would commute, and I wasn't on the regular RCA structure, because I was signed up as a consultant. Cause I was still producing records in Memphis. See, I built a studio in Memphis during that time. That's when Jack Music really sort of got started.

L: Where did you build this other studio? There was the one in the garage, and then you were at Sun Records, and then you built another studio?

J: Yeah, it was called Echo Recording Studios. Me and Stan Kessler and Clyde Leopard who had the Snurley Ranch Boys built Echo.

L: Was it in a garage, too?

J: No, it was in a medical center. The building's been torn down. They tore it down and put a filling station there. Part of the medical center -- I don't know why they did that.

L: You put up the money for that?

J: Me and Clyde Leopard, I think. I think I owned 50%.

L: So you were kind of financially ahead at this point?

J: Oh, I've never been financially ahead. Never, ever'

L: What financial condition do you have to be in to start investing money?

J: Just be able to lay your hands on it, somehow. yell, I had the thing from RCA, and I was starting to make a little money from publishing, and I had my writer's royalties, which, you know, they continue now from that stuff I did back with Sam. Some of that stuff still sells. And other people have cut some of the songs. Enough to keep it mobilized. I had Stan Kessler on my payroll in Memphis while I was working for RCA.

L: What were you doing for RCA?

J: I was producing.

L: What acts?

J: I did some albums with Del Wood, and Johnny and Jack. Different people: Jimmy Edward's, Archie Campbell. I think I did some stuff on him -- I know he cut some of our songs. I helped screen material. I sort of functioned as Chet's assistant in that regard.

L: Was any of this rockabilly type music or was it traditional country?

J: It was more along country. I didn't produce any hits during that time -- not any big things. But during that time Chet produced Miller's Cave" with Hank Snow, which was my song, and also "I Know One" with Jim Reeves. And I got half of an Elvis cut in an album during that year. Did that for a year or so, and then I moved to Beaumont. I had run into Bill Hall on my trips to Nashville. He'd cut "Running Bear" down in Texas, but they got to coming up here to cut their other records. With Johnny Preston and those people. And me and Bill Hall got to hanging around here in town, and one night I was sitting home in Memphis kind of getting bored with the whole trip, been trying to write songs or something, and I decided I'd call ole Bill Hall in Texas and see what he was doing. So, I rung him up, and he invited me to come down -- I'd never been to Texas. Next day I got on the plane and went down there, and got to hanging out. And he had a little recording studio, and I had some stuff left over. I'd gotten out of the Echo thing by then. But I had some equipment and he needed some equipment, and we just decided we'd pool our equipment and build a studio in Beaumont, Texas and turn it into the recording capital of the world. Or something like that. Why not? So, about a month later I moved to Beaumont.

L: And so you and he were partners in the studio?

C: Yeah.

L: And he was producing; for labels. He produced certain people for labels. And I had a couple of deals And then certain things we did together. And during that time we formed Hall-Clement publishing company with Jerry Foster and Bill Rice and some other people. We had a deal with Roland Janes in Memphis -- he used to be one of the guys who worked at Sun, players, guitar player. And he had a little studio there, and he would get these writers in and make demoes and send them down to us in Beaumont. And that's how we started Hall-Clement. But Bill had his company Big Bopper, and I had Jack Music, so we had our own companies, but we owned one together and we owned the studio together. And it worked pretty good.

L: Foster and Rice were in Beaumont?

J: No, they were in Arkansas, Arkansas or Missouri. But they would come to Memphis and make these demoes in Roland's studio, and he would send the demoes to us in Texas. And that continued for several years. I was down there about three and a half years, and then I came here, and a year or so later, Bill came up. And then we moved Foster and Rice here later. And then I would up selling my half of Hall-Clement to Bill.

L: But you came back to Nashville as part of Hall-Clement?