Happy Birthday Townes Van Zandt-Not Ready For Prime Time Class Struggle – “Crazy Hearts” – A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of the movie trailer for "Crazy Hearts".

DVD Review

Crazy Hearts, starring Jeff Bridges, Fox Searchlight, 2009

This one is easy. See it. Why? Well, if for no other reason that Jeff Bridges finally won an Academy Award for his lead role as Bad Blake in it, a role that he has been waiting for about forty years to cash in on. Every since I first saw Bridges as Duane in the screen version of Larry MacMurtry’s great novel of the New West, “The Last Picture Show”, I have known that he had the righteous, good-hearted, hard-drinking, devil-take-the-hinter post, sexually energetic and troubled “old geezer” that he personifies in the Blake role in him. He has done other fine performances but there is something just a little extra that he brings to that good-ole-boy role, young or old.

And here is the kicker. As most of those in America who have being paying attention in the lead-up to the Oscars know this film is about an alcoholic, back roads traveling, down on his luck, hard living country singer, an “outlaw” singer for sure. But also a man in desperate need of either a good woman or a good twelve step program, or both. That premise drives the action and the music. The Blake character could be based on about twelve guys from the 1970s with that fistful of “outlaw cred” from Waylon Jennings to Townes Van Zandt (whose “If I Needed You” is part of the soundtrack here). And that is my final point. Back in those days I had what I call my “country moment”. I gravitated toward the “outlaw country” sound, especially that of Townes Van Zandt, from my permanent berth deep in the blues, city and country, and to a lesser extent, folk. The Jeff Bridges/Bad Blake character is just the cinematic expression of that moment for me. Kudos.

Tom Wolfe-Fashionista Of His Own Kind-And A Hell Of A Writer When The Deal Went Down Has Cashed His Check-Ivan Koop Kuper : Ken Kesey's Houston Acid Test

Tom Wolfe-Fashionista Of His Own Kind-And A Hell Of A Writer When The Deal Went Down Has Cashed His Check

By Bart Webber

I had been, strangely enough, in La Jolla out in California attending yet another writers’ conference which seems to be the makings of my days these days when I heard Tom Wolfe (not Thomas Wolfe of Look Homeward, Angels, etc.) the writer of tons of interesting stuff from acid trips in the 1960s to space flights in the 1970 to Wall Street in the reckless 1980 and back had cashed his check. The strange part of the “strangely enough” was that on Monday May 14^th 2018, the day he died,  I was walking along La Jolla Cove and commenting to my companion that Tom Wolfe had made the La Jolla surfing scene in the early 1960s come alive with his tale of the Pump House Gang and related stories without knowing he had passed.

I don’t know how he did at the end as a writer, or toward the end although I note he did an interesting take on the cultural life at the Army base at Fort Bragg down in North Carolina but pound for pound in his prime he could write the sociology of the land with simple flair and kept this guy flipping the pages in the wee hours of the morning. RIP, Tom Wolfe, RIP.   

The 50th Anniversary Of The Summer Of Love-Ivan Koop Kuper : Ken Kesey's Houston Acid Test

01 December 2010

Ivan Koop Kuper : Ken Kesey's Houston Acid Test

The original "Furthur," the magic bus of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters, on the road. Photo from NoFurthur.

Paying Larry McMurtry a visit:
The Merry Pranksters' last acid test

By Ivan Koop Kuper / The Rag Blog / December 1, 2010

HOUSTON -- In the heat of a July Houston morning in 1964, residents of the quiet Southampton neighborhood woke up to find a strangely painted school bus parked in front of an unassuming two-story brick house in the middle of the block.

The vintage 1939 International Harvester with its passengers of “Merry Pranksters” drove half way across the United States and was now parked in front of the house of novelist and Rice University professor, Larry McMurtry. The Southampton neighbors would learn that the brightly painted bus whose destination plate read “FURTHUR,” with two u's, was filled with strangely acting and even stranger looking people from California.

The leader of the Merry Pranksters was author Ken Kesey, whose novel, Sometimes a Great Notion, had just been published that summer. Their cross-country road trip to New York City was in part a celebration to commemorate the publication of his second novel, as well as the fulfillment of a request by his publisher for a personal appearance and an excuse to visit the World’s Fair taking place in the borough of Queens.

Fueled by the then-legal hallucinogenic drug LSD, Kesey and the Pranksters stopped in Houston along the way to visit McMurtry, who Kesey knew from their days at Stanford.

McMurtry lived with his 2-year-old son, James, on the oak-lined street near Rice University, where he taught undergraduate English.


Larry McMurtry and son, James, 1964. Photo from The Magic Bus.

McMurtry was also experiencing success in his life during this time. His inaugural novel, Horseman, Pass By, had been adapted into a screenplay and released as the feature-length movie, Hud, staring Paul Newman and Melvyn Douglas, the previous year.

“I remember walking down Quenby Street one afternoon and seeing the school bus parked in front of the McMurtry’s house,” said Kentucky-based artist Joan Wilhoit. “It was very atypical and pretty damn psychedelic with lots of colors. The Pranksters were very accommodating and invited us on the bus. They were very different, sort of proto-hippies, and I remember they painted their sneakers with Day-Glo paint. My parents befriended them and brought old clothes and hand-me-downs to those who needed it. My parents weren’t rude like some of the other neighbors were.”

Wilhoit, who was nine at the time. remembers that not all the neighbors were as welcoming as her parents and that some made sarcastic remarks about the Pranksters.

“’Do you have a bathroom on that bus?’ I remember one our neighbors asking the Pranksters through the school bus window,” the former Houstonian recounted. “I also remember hearing about the ‘naked girl’ and I thought it was the strangest thing how the police were called and how she had to be admitted to a psych ward of some Houston hospital.”

“Stark Naked,” as she was referred to in Tom Wolfe’s Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, the novel that chronicled the exploits of Kesey and the Pranksters in the 1960s, was a bus passenger apparently “tripping” throughout her bus ride to Houston, who discarded her clothing in favor of a blanket that she wore for the duration of the journey. Upon her arrival in Houston, she experienced an episode of “lysergically-induced” psychosis, and confused McMurtry’s toddler son with her own estranged child, “Frankie.”


"Stark Naked" (aka "The Beauty Witch") wore nothing but a blanket. Photo from The Magic Bus.

Three years later, the brightly painted bus was parked once again in front of McMurtry’s house on the oak-lined street near Rice Village. Kesey and the Pranksters returned to Houston in March 1967 to visit their old friend and to conduct what is purported to have been the last “acid test.” The social experiment was staged in the dining room of Brown College, a residential facility on the campus of Rice University, with McMurtry acting as faculty sponsor.

“I would have been 14 years old when they returned,” said Pricilla Boston (nee Ebersole), an employee of the department of state health services in Austin and the mother of two teen-aged sons.
I remember getting off the school bus from junior high one afternoon and seeing that the painted bus was parked in front of Mr. McMurtry’s house again. It was immensely colorful and there was no missing it, that’s for sure. All the kids in the neighborhood used to play street games at night a lot and it was almost like there was another set of kids in the neighborhood.

They had a youthful, fun vibe about them. I remember this one skinny guy in particular who would interact with us; he was younger than the others and he showed us the inside of the bus. He once asked us to go home and look in our parents’ medicine cabinet to see if they had any bottles of pills and bring them to him. I was asking myself "Why would he want those?"
Boston recounted following the skinny Prankster’s instructions and looking in her parent’s cabinet. “I don’t remember whether I brought him anything or not,” she said, “I just remember having a sense of what I was doing as being a little bit naughty.”

Although Kesey’s arrival and the ensuing acid test were promoted as a “concert” in the March 9 issue of the Rice Thresher, the campus student newspaper, this non-event turned out to be an acid test in name only. The promise of a reenactment of the “tests” conducted in California between 1965 and 1966 never materialized. Absent was the liquid light show, the live, amplified rock music, the pulsating strobe lights and movie projector images on the walls.

Also conspicuously absent was the mass dispensation and ingestion of psychotropic drugs by the Rice student body and other “assorted weirdos” in attendance. Instead, the Pranksters indulged the more than 200 attendees with a “madcap improvisation” of toy dart-gun fights, human dog piles, deep breathing demonstrations by Kesey himself, and rides on the “magic bus” around the Rice campus.

“The great Kesey affair was an absolute dud,” reported the Houston Post on March 21. “Some of the kids hissed while he [Kesey] read some kind of incantation, and others just left talking about what a drag it was.”

[Ivan Koop Kuper is a graduate student at the University of St. Thomas, Houston, Texas, and maintains a healthy diet of music, media, and popular culture. He can be reached at kuperi@stthom.edu.]



Merry Pranksters in the news, 1964. Top, in Houston, and below, in Springfield, Ohio.


Prankster Hermit and the original bus. Photo from Lysergic Pranksters in Texas.


Top, Ken Kesey with restored bus, by then renamed "Further" with an "e". Below, the 1939 International Harvester, before restoration, at the Kesey family farm in Pleasant Hill, Oregon, after being stored in the swamp for 15 years. Photo by Jeff Barnard / AP

The Rag Blog

Posted by thorne dreyer at 10:50 AM
Labels: American History, Drug Culture, Houston, Ivan Koop Kooper, Ken Kesey, Larry McMurtry, LSD, Merry Prankstes, Psychedelics, Rag Bloggers, Rice University, Sixties, Tom Wolfe

Before “The Last Picture Show” Was The “Last Picture Show” With The Larry McMurtry Book In Mind

Before “The Last Picture Show” Was The “Last Picture Show” With The Larry McMurtry  Book In Mind

Book Review

By Jack Callahan

The Last Picture Show, by Larry Mc Murtry,  

It is time to rally around the troops. Time for me to put my two cents worth in defending my old-time friends who write for this blog (and the on-line editions of American Folk Gazette, American Film Gazette and Progressive Nation among others). Time to honor one old pal, Phil Larkin, known in the old days as Foul-mouth Phil who others have written about in this space and mainly have gotten right about the origin of the name. About the weird twist too of how the girls, including my wife of over forty years Chrissie McNamara, even good go to church, Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church, every Sunday and who had rosary beads always present in their hands and a Bible between their knees like her, secretly liked his constant swearing so that he among us all never lacked for dates, at least one date anyway with them. But that is not why I am honoring Phil today since I have much more important business to attend to before I get to a short review of this excellent book by Larry McMurtry, The Last Picture Show, which I saw as a movie (with Chrissie) long before I first read his book (and a number of other related one about the fictional town of Thalia back in the 1950s) which Seth Garth, a longtime writer for this blog mentioned to me has come out recently in a trilogy according to what he had read in the New York Review of Books).

That other fish to fry deals with Phil’s portentous statements which were taken by most of the older staff here, including me, as the usual rantings of Phil when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants, what he considers his due. This time it is centered on a number of statements which he has made as part of his film reviews about the older writers who had been close to the previous site manager being purged, a word at least one of the younger writers has used freely in his reviews so he, they, those now victorious younger writers, must be feeling the wind in their sails. I will not mention his name since the current site manager Greg Green well known for red-penciling, not blue like most editors, copy has “warned” people off doing so under the pretext that “we have to move on” from that pernicious influence) backed up by the newly installed Editorial Board ( a board handpicked by Green and loaded, overloaded, with younger writers who supported him in the internal struggle against that previous site manager and who are really nothing but toadies and rubber-stampers for him).  

Readers familiar with this site, and perhaps with the internal dispute which wound up with the departure and “exile” of that previous manager, know that I have been neither a leading contributor to the writings posted here although I have been the subject of many reminiscences by the older writers including the old gang famous, maybe infamous, one since more than one old fogy has gotten parts wrong, of how Chrissie and I met, nor very vocal in the fight between the younger and older writers which led to that previous manager’s “purge.” (Like I said previously I best put any possible controversial words in quotes to avoid that sweeping Green red pencil despite all the claptrap about the new regime being more democratic, more open to broadening the scope of what is being written about and by whom than previously.) The reason I grabbed this book assignment was that the older writers believed that I would be the only one who had “not burned his bridges” to the new regime which is the way one wag put the matter and could expect to get my piece posted.

Moreover they believed that it would “grease the rails” (I forgot who said that) if I as a big financial backer of the enterprise did the talking about what appears to be coming down the road for the older writers, and who knows maybe some younger recalcitrant writers too (remember the fraught with danger “p” word). That financial backing based on my very successful business as a Toyota car dealer, Mr. Toyota in Eastern Massachusetts with Chrissie as Ms. Toyota so I do not depend on paychecks and fears of lack of paychecks like the others who moreover are closing in on retirement. They don’t want to wind up following the example of the previous manager who with one exception, one important exception, Sam Lowell, who is the only one from the old gang who was placed on that suddenly emergent “democratic” Ed Board, supported him. Don’t want to wind up as the rumors have it hustling newspapers out in Utah for the Mormons with no retirement pension income (I don’t know about his Social Security status), no health plan (if he didn’t have adequate S.S. quarters), and no source for getting steady postings against the dark and wild savage nights going forward (not my expression but one of the older guy’s). I have committed to rallying around the troops and this is the first shot. But enough of this for now.        

*********

As I mentioned in my defense declaration above my first connection with Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show was viewing the film adaptation by Peter Bogdanovich starring Jeff Bridges as Duane  the roughneck’s roughneck, Timothy Bottoms as the gentile roughneck, as Sonny, and Cybil Shepard as the alluring and sexually predatory poor little oil money boomtown rich girl Jacy who has Duane and all the boys in heat, especially Duane and in his dreams Sonny. I should also mentioned that I saw this one the first time at the Hingham, Massachusetts, Plaza Theater when it first opened (a nice counter-position to the “last” in the film title) with Chrissie. That was when we were first living together before we got did get married a couple of years later and well after she had abandoned those rosary bead hands and squeezed Bible knees. Needless to say coming up as an urban, maybe better, suburban roughneck from a hard-struck declining North Adamsville a town like Thalia, with a ton of roughneck friends some of who turned out okay and have written for a long time in places like this blog (although for how much longer is anybody’s guess) and some who didn’t fare so well the film struck a deep chord, “spoke” to me. Spoke to me as well since sports, football in particular, was a subtext for the friendship between Duane and Sonny just like it had been for me and guys like Phil Larkin. (I had been a star football player who led the Blue Warriors to two division state high school Super Bowls which had a lot to do with how Chrissie and I met initially although not how we have stayed together pretty happily for so long.)          

One thing that Seth Garth, a serious writer and a man who has written many well-received articles in this space, who was perhaps my closest friend in high school after we had a fight over Chrissie’s affections and reconciled, has always mentioned to me when writing about films based on novels is how closely they adhere to the storyline of the book. I remember once when we were having a couple of drinks at the old watering hole The Sagamore Grille in Hingham in the days when he could drink unlike now when he has sworn off the stuff we got to talking about fidelity to the book of certain films. This was when I was first interested in writing some reviews for posting here when the previous site manager was more than happy to have an old friend (and serious financial contributor I know helped as well) write up a little something. Seth mentioned that he was appalled when a film screenplay, script, was nothing like the plotline of the book and seemingly the only reason for keeping the title and author’s name was to draw the crowds in based on that cache.        

Seth always would bring up two classic cases both by Ernest Hemingway. One, To Have And Have Not, where in the book the Captain Harry Morgan is a rogue, has-been sea captain running crap to Cuba for the highest bidder with a wife who had seen better days and a parcel of kids. Against the film version where Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall sizzle up the screen with what Seth called some of the sexiest hottest scenes of two people with their clothes on he had ever seen while doing yeoman’s service to the French Resistance in the Caribbean during World War II. The other The Killers, a short story which starts and ends with two professional killers acting as hitmen for somebody who wanted an ex-pug out of the way and leaving the narrator wondering why he did not put up any resistance. Against the film starring Burt Lancaster as the ex-pug and fall guy and Ava Gardner as a femme fatale who has him going through the hoops for her as the reason that he went gentle into that good night. A dame in short like has happened to a million other guys except this time old Burt paid with his life for shacking up with her.

In Last Picture Show the film there is no such problem since the film adheres in the basic plotline and better in the spirit of two young roughneck Texas boys coming of age in the early 1950s. I first read the book in the 1990s I think when I was on a Larry McMurtry tear after viewing Texasville which is about this same grouping and town about twenty years later once they have gotten over their teenage angst and alienation. I was struck then as now by how closely the key episodes match up. The only added statement I would make at this time is that the book draws many more explicit sexual scenes, more graphically written than the shyer film does including references to homosexually, male and female orgasms, the sexual frustration aspect of the teen angst and alienation component, and the problems as well as good points of growing up in a small if declining town out in what was then considered the Texas countryside.  Finally, I have changed my opinion as I told Seth one of those nights when we were having those few permitted whiskeys at the Sagamore Grille I think everybody should read the classic book first and then the classic film. Now I wish I had done so.   

*A Man Of The West- The Old America West Ballads Of Johnny Cash

Click on the title to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Johnny Cash performing "Streets Of Laredo".


CD Review

Johnny Cash Sings The True Ballads Of The Old West, Johnny Cash, Sbme Special Mkts, 2009

I have spent some time, and I believe time well spent, at this site over the pass couple of years talking about things of the American West, old and new. You know the stuff of legends like we grew up with as kids, at least my generation, the generation of ’68, did, for better or worst. Blame it on Larry McMurtry, his books, and his incessant Old West reviews in “The New York Review Of Books”. Some of this stuff is genuine history, things that today’s labor militants should know about like the struggles of the Western Federation Of Miners, Big Bill Haywood and the legendary Wobblies (IWW, Industrial Workers Of The World) who led many a strike against the mine, farm, and lumber bosses.

Other things are, and should be, treated a little more circumspectly, like the legends of Jesse James and John Wesley Harding, especially those who honor the Northern victory in the American Civil War. There has, in short, been no lack of song and storytelling about the Old West. This is a round-about way of introducing Johnny Cash’s valuable little cache of old time Western-oriented material, mainly ballads, including some long needed focus on the struggles of Native Americans, the odd group out in the West, old and new.

The name Johnny Cash, although well thought of in this space, has mainly been mentioned in connection with his connection to the legendary Carter family (he married Maybelle’s daughter, June, for those who are not familiar with that family’s genealogy), a family more noted for their contributions to mountain music, eastern mountain music, than the hard western plains described in this album. Nonetheless, Johnny in that deep, authoritative and plaintive voice of his has brought the Old West alive in these recordings. I should like to note several stick out items of interest here. First off- the rendition, based on Longfellow, of “Hiawatha’s Vision”; an interesting song about the fate of the assassin of President James Garfield in the post-Civil War period, “Mr. Garfield; and, a song of the original old West, Kentucky, in” Road to Kaintuck”. Then to finish this compilation up there are songs that truly reflect the struggles of the Old West, “Stampede,” “Blizzard,” “The Streets Of Laredo,” and “Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie”. Just a nice little slice of Americana, mainly not mentioned in the history books, or by western Chamber of Commerces.


Song: O Bury Me Not On The Lone Praire

"O bury me not on the lone prairie"
These words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the close of day.

"O bury me not on the lone prairie
Where the wild coyote will howl o'er me
Where the buffalo roams the prairie sea
O bury me not on the lone prairie"

"It makes no difference, so I've been told
Where the body lies when life grows cold
But grant, I pray, one wish to me
O bury me not on the lone prairie"

"I've often wished to be laid when I die
By the little church on the green hillside
By my father's grave, there let mine be
O bury me not on the lone prairie"

The cowboys gathered all around the bed
To hear the last word that their comrade said
"O partners all, take a warning from me
Never leave your homes for the lone prairie"

"Don't listen to the enticing words
Of the men who own droves and herds
For if you do, you'll rue the day
That you left your homes for the lone prairie"

"O bury me not," but his voice failed there
But we paid no head to his dying prayer
In a narrow grave, just six by three
We buried him there on the lone prairie

We buried him there on the lone prairie
Where the buzzards fly and the wind blows free
Where rattlesnakes rattle, and the tumbleweeds
Blow across his grave on the lone prairie

And the cowboys now as they cross the plains
Have marked the spot where his bones are lain
Fling a handful of roses on his grave
And pray to the Lord that his soul is saved

In a narrow grave, just six by three
We buried him there on the lone prairie

"Streets Of Laredo"

As I walked out on the streets of Laredo.
As I walked out on Laredo one day,
I spied a poor cowboy wrapped in white linen,
Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay.

"I can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I boldly walked by.
"Come an' sit down beside me an' hear my sad story.
"I'm shot in the breast an' I know I must die."

"It was once in the saddle, I used to go dashing.
"Once in the saddle, I used to go gay.
"First to the card-house and then down to Rose's.
"But I'm shot in the breast and I'm dying today."

"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin.
"Six dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall.
"Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin.
"Roses to deaden the clods as they fall."

"Then beat the drum slowly, play the Fife lowly.
"Play the dead march as you carry me along.
"Take me to the green valley, lay the sod o'er me,
"I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."

"Then go write a letter to my grey-haired mother,
"An' tell her the cowboy that she loved has gone.
"But please not one word of the man who had killed me.
"Don't mention his name and his name will pass on."

When thus he had spoken, the hot sun was setting.
The streets of Laredo grew cold as the clay.
We took the young cowboy down to the green valley,
And there stands his marker, we made, to this day.

We beat the drum slowly and played the Fife lowly,
Played the dead march as we carried him along.
Down in the green valley, laid the sod o'er him.
He was a young cowboy and he said he'd done wrong.

Short Book Clips –“T” for Texas- Larry McMurtry’s “Cadillac Jack” Is In The House-

Short Book Clips

Cadillac Jack, Larry McMurtry

With the exception of reviews of the book and movie version of  The Last Picture Show the usual mention that I make about Larry McMurtry revolves around his reviews works of the history of the Old West (most recently on General Custer) in the New York Review of Books. I know three things about him from those articles. He loves books, I mean he really loves them. He loves the Old West, a place where he grew up (deep in the heart of Texas). And he loves to talk about swap meets, etc. That is important here because this seemingly bedraggled profession is central to the story that he tells here.

Cadillac Jack is an ex-professional cowboy turned (to be kind) second-hand enterpreour. At least, that is his cover for this story. The major action of the story is centered in the secondary power lanes of Washington, D.C., the Beltway, but not, you the big guys, yah, not the lobbyist on 14^th and K.  But still inside 495 so watch out-those guys have that mean and hungry look that Shakespeare warned about in Julius Caesar.  Now what can one expect from an old cowboy trying to get messed up with that crowd. Those guys will eat toy for lunch and have time for dessert. They make bull riding or auction cruising seem like a day in the park.  What really ails old Cadillac is his success with the women (surprise, surprise) although he seems to have had his fair share of experiences with them. What ties the whole story together, as in my limited experience with McMurtry’s  work  seems to always do, is the doings (and undoings) of a strong secondary set of characters who are either buying or selling something, not always legally.  Needless to say I need to investigate Mr. McMurtry’s work further. But, dear reader, this is not a bad place to start.     

Short Book Clips –“T” for Texas- Larry McMurtry’s “Cadillac Jack” Is In The House-

Short Book Clips

Cadillac Jack, Larry McMurtry

With the exception of reviews of the book and movie version of  The Last Picture Show the usual mention that I make about Larry McMurtry revolves around his reviews works of the history of the Old West (most recently on General Custer) in the New York Review of Books. I know three things about him from those articles. He loves books, I mean he really loves them. He loves the Old West, a place where he grew up (deep in the heart of Texas). And he loves to talk about swap meets, etc. That is important here because this seemingly bedraggled profession is central to the story that he tells here.

Cadillac Jack is an ex-professional cowboy turned (to be kind) second-hand enterpreour. At least, that is his cover for this story. The major action of the story is centered in the secondary power lanes of Washington, D.C., the Beltway, but not, you the big guys, yah, not the lobbyist on 14^th and K.  But still inside 495 so watch out-those guys have that mean and hungry look that Shakespeare warned about in Julius Caesar.  Now what can one expect from an old cowboy trying to get messed up with that crowd. Those guys will eat toy for lunch and have time for dessert. They make bull riding or auction cruising seem like a day in the park.  What really ails old Cadillac is his success with the women (surprise, surprise) although he seems to have had his fair share of experiences with them. What ties the whole story together, as in my limited experience with McMurtry’s  work  seems to always do, is the doings (and undoings) of a strong secondary set of characters who are either buying or selling something, not always legally.  Needless to say I need to investigate Mr. McMurtry’s work further. But, dear reader, this is not a bad place to start.     

A Man Of The West- The Old West Ballads Of Johnny Cash

CD Review

Johnny Cash Sings The True Ballads Of The Old West, Johnny Cash, Sbme Special Mkts, 2009

I have spent some time, and I believe time well spent, at this site over the pass couple of years talking about things of the West, old and new. You know the stuff of legends like we grew up with as kids, at least my generation, the generation of ’68, did, for better or worst. Blame it on Larry McMurtry, his books, and his incessant Old West reviews in The New York Review Of Books. Some of this stuff is genuine history, things that today’s labor militants should know about like the struggles of the Western Federation Of Miners, Big Bill Haywood and the legendary Wobblies (IWW, Industrial Workers Of The World) who led many a strike against the mine, farm, and lumber bosses.

Other things are, and should be treated a little more circumspectly, like the legends of Jesse James and John Wesley Harding, especially those who honor the Northern victory in the American Civil War. There has, in short, been no lack of song and storytelling about the Old West. This is a round-about way of introducing Johnny Cash’s valuable little cache of old time Western-oriented material, mainly ballads, including some long needed focus on the struggle s of Native Americans, the odd group out in the West, old and new.

The name Johnny Cash, although well thought of in this space, has mainly been mentioned in connection with his connection to the legendary Carter family (he married Maybelle’s daughter, June, for those who are not familiar with that family’s genealogy), a family more noted for their contributions to mountain music, eastern mountain music, than the hard western plains described in this album. Nonetheless, Johnny in that deep, authoritative and plaintive voice of his has brought the Old West alive in this recording. I should like to note several stick out items of interest here. First off- the rendition, based on Longfellow, of “Hiawatha’s Vision”; an interesting song about the fate of the assassin of President James Garfield in the post-Civil War period, “Mr. Garfield; and, a song of the original old West, Kentucky, in” Road to Kaintuck”. Then to finish this compilation up there are songs that truly reflect the struggles of the Old West, “Stampede,” “Blizzard,” “The Streets Of Laredo,” and “Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie”. Just a nice little slice of Americana, mainly not mentioned in the history books, or by western Chamber of Commerces.

Once Upon A Time In Texas- “No Country For Old Men”- A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for the film No Country For Old Men

DVD Review

No Country For Old Men, starring Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin, directed by the Coen Brothers, written by Cormac McCarthy, Miramax Films, 2007

Cinematic studies of murderous psychopaths have a long and honored position in film history. Early on in the gangster movies of the 1930s, in such films as The Petrified Forest (with Humphrey Bogart as Duke Mantee) and, perhaps more famously, White Heat with true stone-killer mad man James Cagney ready to blow up everything (and throw an off-hand grapefruit or two), audiences got to confront truly banal (thanks Hannah Arendt) evil characters. Remorseless, if not always efficient. The psycho (played understatedly by Javier Bardem)in No Country For Old Men carries on that tradition, although as we are now a little more inured to mass murders and odd-ball methods of killing on the screen that those earlier audiences, the methods have been ramped up. In short, take no prisoners. None. Moreover, the Brothers Coen want to, around the murder and mayhem, squeeze in a little tale about how this country (well, Texas, great American West country, Larry McMurtry Last Picture Show country, anyway) has gone to hell in a handbasket since the old western frontiers vanished into, well, civilization.

Of course no savage tale of the New West, the border New West, would be complete without some drug deal going south (no pun intended), going south badly. The action of this film is centered on a discover of some dough, some serious dough, just waiting to be plucked like taking it from the low branches of a tree by the first guy (played by Josh Brolin) who comes on the scene, the first hungry, break-out hungry guy who comes along. Now if you or I, maybe not hungry enough, came upon a desert scene with a bunch of stone shoot-out dead bodies, a truckload of dope, and a satchel of dough, we would walk, hell, run away, right. There would be no story then though. So our lonesome hungry cowboy grabs for the brass ring. Unfortunately said dough belongs to those who have hired a bad-ass stone killer ready, very ready, and very willing to exterminate whatever number it takes to get said dough back. And throw in a few innocent by-standers and others for laughs.

But this is Texas remember and so once the chase is on the local law, in the person mainly, of one wised-up, old-timey sheriff, played by Tommy Lee Jones, a little out of his element in these new times when there is no honor among thieves (there really never was) and the crimes pile up more quickly and haphazardly than in the old days, is on the hunt. But age and world-weariness have taken their toll and old Tommy Lee is always about a step, maybe two steps, behind the central action. Needless to say things cannot turn out well here, and they don’t. Ya, this is no country for old men. Got it.

***In The Matter Of The Zen Western- Johnny Depp’s Dead Man- A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Johnny Depp’s Dead Man.

DVD Review

Dead Man, starring Johnny Depp, Robert Mitchum, eerily edgy music by Neil Young, Miramax 1995

Sure, I have taken plenty of shots at variations on the great American West, past and present, from Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove to The Last Picture Show from The Wild Bunch to Crazy Hearts and everything in between. As well, I have always been glad, glad as hell, to review any movie starring Johnny Depp that might come my way. So here we have the combination of Johnny Depp as, well, Johnny Depp as usual (except maybe for those seemingly endless Pirate sequels) taking on an edgy role that less talented or more timid male actors would have walked away from, way a way from.

No one doubts that the old Hollywood (and dime store novel) vision of the old John Wayne "howdy, partner" American West is long gone. And with the ground-breaking work of The Wild Bunch back in the 1970d we have seen, well we have seen, more plausibly views of that old time West, including some pretty unsavory characters in search of fame and fortune around the edges of the great frontier before it melted at the turn of the 20th century. That pasting of the frontier, of course, did not stop anybody with the least carefree spirit or who was just plain tired of the “civilized” East from heading by anyway they could to the great expanses of the old-time West. And that is where William Blake (played by Johnny Depp), no not the 18th century mad man English poet and supporter of the ideals of the French Revolution (although that mistake plays a part in the plot), but an accountant, for god’s sake, enters the story.

William Blake’s transformation into a man of the West complete with notches on his revolver, seemingly in slow-motion at times and all in black and white, is what drives this curious film. We have an educated “savage," Native American, savage white man bounty-hunters, a twisted rich land-owners (played by the late Robert Mitchum) and every mangy "old dog" who made it, or did not make it in the West. And every pathology known to humankind showed its face in this fierce portrayal of the West but also, a very surprising positive portrayal of Native American culture and its demise with the advance of the white man. William Blake, accountant, is one of Johnny Depp’s edgier performances, no question, and if you can stay with the zen aspect of the thing a very well done performance. Not for everyone, and certainly not for those who might still be clinging to some John Wayne idea of the West.

A Jeff Bridges Retrospective-The Taming of the Old American West-“Bad Company”- A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Bad Company 

DVD Review

Bad Company, Jeff Bridges, Barry Brown, directed by Robert Benton, Universal, 1972

No, I am not going to start off this piece by going on and on about how Jeff Bridges’ Oscar-winning performance in Crazy Hearts as down-and-out country singer/songwriter Bad Blake was merely an extension of him as a modern young Texas dude, Duane Jackson, in Peter Bogdanovitch’s film adaptation of Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show. Although, now that I think about it, I could. Rather, though I want to use my time to look at this film, Bad Company, as an example of that then (1972) fairly new look at the old American West through other than rose-colored glasses.

McCabe and Mrs. Miller and The Wild Bunch are probably better known, and rightly so, for breaking down the black and white view of the old wild West that those of us who came of age in the dawn of the television era (black and white television, to boot) of the early 1950s and formed our view of the “cowboys and Indians” from the seemingly endless Westerns that ran on Saturday morning (and Saturday afternoon at the movie house, alternating with scary horror or monster movies). The good guys wore white, the bad guys black and the Indians, well, it was kind of left unsaid but the only good one was a dead one. The above mentioned films, this film, and writers like McMurtry and Cormac McCarthy helped to bring some realism, some naturalism to the layers of myth and mis-history.

Take the plot of Bad Company. A young man (Barry Brown), the hero of the film or rather better the anti-hero, of good Ohio family, aided and abetted by that family, is furnished with the means to avoid being conscripted into the Union Army during the later stages of the American Civil War. Said naïve young man learns the lessons of survival in the rough and tumble West before he even gets past Missouri. From there, aided by roustabout and ne’er-do-well Jeff Bridges (being, well, prankster Jeff Bridges), and his gang, he pushes on trying, trying against all odds to keep on the right side of the law (read: frontier justice, not necessarily the same thing). In the end, he does what he has to do to survive. Old Gene Autry, old Hop-along Cassidy, old Roy Rogers might not have been able to fathom that, but you and I can.

Searching For The Old American West In Song - The Music Of Tom Russell

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Tom Russell performing "Tonight We Ride."

CD Review

Borderland, Tom Russell, Hightone Records, 2001

The last time that I reviewed a CD by the singer/songwriter Tom Russell was his album, about the Irish disapora- “The Man From God Knows Where”. Hey, wait a minute- how can you go from the Irish diaspora to searching for the Old American West like that? Well, that answer is easy- not all the Irish stayed in the Eastern cities after heading out of the old country over the past 150 years or so. Some, like members of other ethnic groups, headed west when things dried up or got too “hot” in the East.

That is the common design for Russell’s drive to find the key to the old West, and to sing of it, to sing of it like Walt Whitman did in his poetry that sang of America. Although the unabashed promise that Whitman sang of has turned somewhat rancid and wearisome in the last hundred years or so that is where the meat of Russell’s work lies.

Take the song “Touch Of Evil” (title and subject from the classic Orson Welles film), for example, Russell captures the mean streets of the borders, between countries, cultures, and personal circumstances and exposes their hard edges. In short, my kind of songwriter. “Hills Of Old Juarez” and “Where The Dream Begins” are other outstanding examples of that same idea. If you too are searching for the meaning of the Old West, the real Old West, in song and the New West, as well, listen up here.

Touch Of Evil
Tom Russell

G C G C/G
The night my baby left me I crossed the bridge to Juarez avenue
C G C
Like that movie "Touch of evil" I got the Orson Wells, Marlene Dietrich
G
blues
C G
Where Orson walks in to the whore house and
C G C/G
Marlene says "Man, you look like hel l"
G
And Orson's chewing on a chocolate bar
C/G
as the l ights go on in the old Blue Star hotel
C Bm
"Read my future" says old Orson, "down inside the tea leaves of your cup"
Am
And she says " You ain't got no future, Hank,
C D G
I believe your f uture's all used up"

C G
Why don't you touch me anymore? Why don't you touch me anymore?
D G G7
Why do you run away and hide? You know it hurts me deep inside
C G
Why do you close the bedroom door? This is a brutal little war
D C G
What good is all this fightin' for if you don't touch me any more?

G C/G
(Chords like 1st verse, until notice)
G C G C/G
They shot "A touch of evil" in a Venice, California colo ny
C G
And I grew near those dead canals
C G
where they filmed the longest pan shot ever made
C G C G C/G
Now I'm thinking a bout the movie, the bar I'm in, the bridge, the Rio Grande
G C/G
Now I'm t hinking about my baby and the borderline 'tween a woman and a man
C Bm
I was d runk as Orson Wells the night I crawled backwards out the door

Am C D G
I was screaming "Baby, baby how come you touch me any more?"

CHORUS:

G C/G x3

(Chords like 2nd verse)
G C G C/G
Oh, some one rolled the credits on twenty years of love turned dark and raw
C G C G
Not a technicolor l ove film, it's a brutal document, it's film noir
C G C G C/G
And it's all played out on a borderline and the actors are tragically miscast
G C/G
Like a Mexican bur lesk show where the characters are wearing comic masks
C Bm
Oh, it's love and love alone I cry to the barmen in this Juarez water hole
Am C D G
As we raise a glass to Orson and "A touch of evil" livin' our souls

CHORUS:

*Searching For The Old American West In Song- The Music Of Tom Russell

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Tom Russell performing "The Ballad Of Ira Hayes."

CD Review

Indians Cowboys Horses Dogs, Tom Russell, Hightone Records, 2004

The last time that I reviewed a CD by the singer/songwriter Tom Russell was his album, about the Irish disapora- “The Man From God Knows Where”. Hey, wait a minute- how can you go from the Irish diaspora to searching for the Old American West like that? Well, that answer is easy- not all the Irish stayed in the Eastern cities after heading out of the old country over the past 150 years or so. Some, like members of other ethnic groups, headed west when things dried up or got too “hot” in the East.

That is the common design for Russell’s drive to find the key to the old West, and to sing of it, to sing of it like Walt Whitman did in his poetry that sang of America. Although the unabashed promise that Whitman sang of has turned somewhat rancid and wearisome in the last hundred years or so that is where the meat of Russell’s work lies.

In this album the motif shifts a shade in that Russell takes a deep, deep look at the stormy (to be kind ) relationships between whites and Native Americans in the struggle over the land, and, in the final analysis over cultural respect (or rather lack of it). That is always brought home to me in “The Ballad of Ira Hayes”. Ira Hayes was one the planters of the American flag at Iwo Jima in the Pacific War in World War II. For a minute he was a hero then went just as quickly back to being….”just another drunken Indian”. In that same vein here, “Tonight We Ride” and “All This Way For A Short Ride” stick out.


"The Ballad Of Ira Hayes"-Bob Dylan's Lyrics

Gather round you people and a story I will tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now Ira's folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds
But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white man's greed
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

They started up Iwo Jima Hill, 250 men
But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

Now Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian, no money crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what Ira had done and the wind did the Indian's dance
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

And Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

*Of Cowboys and Cowgirls- The Music Of Carol Noonan

Click on the headline link to a "YouTube" film clip of Carol Noonan performing "Danny Boy". Yes, I know that is not a classic of the Old West (of America, at least) but I couldn't find anything from the "Big Iro"n CD.

CD Review

Big Iron, Carol Noonan, Noonan Music, 2001

I spent some little time a couple of years ago going over the transformation of the American Old West of cowboys, wild boys, fast guns and faster reputations into the New West populated by characters like Duane, in the series of novels written by Texas writer/bibliophile and flea marketeer, Larry McMurtry. Apparently, the myth of the Old West dies hard though, and for this review I am glad of it.

Why? For singer/songwriter and 'wannabe' cowgirl Carol Noonan (and friends) from ….Maine has given us a potpourri of very nice renditions of some of the old classic Western songs that people of a certain age, my age, grew up with as we absorbed our version of the Old West, via 1950s black and white television, of the likes of Hopalong Cassidy, the Cisco Kid and the Lone Ranger and his sidekick, Tonto.

Of course it helps if one has a beautiful voice, some good instruments and some good friends to harmonize with on this self-produced (I believe) CD. All that is left is to pick a few numbers that stand out in an album that is filled with them. “Red River Valley”, “High Noon”, “Streets Of Laredo”, and “Wayward Wind” readily come to mind. That list is "high" Old West, indeed.

The Streets of Laredo
arranged & adapted by Arlo Guthrie

As I walked out in the streets of Laredo
As I walked out in Laredo one day
I spied a poor cowboy wrapped up in white linen
All wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay

"I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy"
These words he did say as I proudly stepped by
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story
I'm shot in the breast and I know I must die

"'Twas once in the saddle I used to go ridin'
Once in the saddle I used to go gay
First lead to drinkin', and then to card-playing
I'm shot in the breast and I'm dying today

"Let six jolly cowboys come carry my coffin
Let six pretty gals come to carry my pall
Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin
Throw roses to deaden the clods as they fall

"Oh, beat the drum slowly, and play the fife lowly
And play the dead march as you carry me along
Take me to the green valley and lay the earth o'er me
For I'm a poor cowboy and I know I've done wrong"

We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly
And bitterly wept as we carried him along
For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome
We all loved our comrade although he done wrong

©1991 Arloco Music Inc
All Rights Reserved.

* A Second Look At Bad Blake- A Jeff Bridges Film Retropsective

Click on the headline to link to a "Boston Sunday Globe" article, dated April 25, 2010, concerning a Jeff Bridges retrospective at a local theater.

Markin comment:

Long before Jeff Bridges won his well-deserved Oscar for his Bad Blake role in last year’s “Crazy Hearts” I noted, in a response to someone’s comment in another blog, that in a sense he had been playing those kind of award-worthy roles all his now forty year acting career and that he should have been honored long time ago. I also noted the similarities between the way he played his role as Duane in “The Last Picture Show” and Bad Blake in “Crazy Hearts”. Now for those who did not, or do not, believe me and need visual proof you are to be well-treated. At least those in the Boston area and, perhaps, in your town if you push for it you will get a chance to see a Jeff Bridges retrospective at the local theater described in the “Boston Sunday Globe” linked article. The following is not an exclusive list of my choices but “Last Picture”, “Rancho Deluxe”, “Fat City”, “ The Big Lebowski”, and, of course “Crazy Hearts” should be on your dance card. If no retrospective is coming up in your area check out “Netflix”. They are all available on that site. Kudos, Duane. Kudos, Bad.

*From The "Green Left Global" Blog- "Rake" By Townes Van Zandt

Click on the title to link to the "Green Left Global News " for a film clip of Townes Van Zandt performing one of his earlier songs, "Rake".

Markin comment:

For those unfamiliar with the work of this great outlaw country artist here is a CD review done last year in this space extolling his virtues.


CD Review

Early Townes

Townes Van Zandt, Townes Van Zandt, Tomato Records,

The main points of this review have been used to review other Townes Van Zandt CDs.

Readers of this space are by now very aware that I am in search of and working my way through various types of American roots music. In shorthand, running through what others have termed "The American Songbook". Thus I have spent no little time going through the work of seemingly every musician who rates space in the august place. From blues giants, folk legends, classic rock `n' roll artists down through the second and third layers of those milieus out in the backwoods and small, hideaway music spots that dot the American musical landscape. I have also given a nod to more R&B, rockabilly and popular song artists then one reasonably need to know about. I have, however, other than the absolutely obligatory passing nods to the likes of Hank Williams and Patsy Cline spent very ink on more traditional Country music, what used to be called the Nashville sound. What gives?

Whatever my personal musical preferences there is no question that the country music work of, for example, the likes of George Jones, Loretta Lynn and Tammy Wynette in earlier times or Garth Brooks and Faith Hill a little later or today Keith Urban and Taylor Swift (I am cheating on these last two since I do not know their work and had to ask someone about them) "speak" to vast audiences out in the heartland. They just, for a number of reasons that need not be gone into here, do not "speak" to me. However, in the interest of "full disclosure" I must admit today that I had a "country music moment" about thirty years ago. That was the time of the "outlaws" of the country music scene. You know, Waylon (Jennings) and Willie (Nelson). Also Kris Kristofferson, Johnny Cash and Jerry Jeff Walker. Country Outlaws, get it? Guys and gals ( think of Jesse Colter)who broke from the Nashville/ Grand Old Opry mold by drinking hard, smoking plenty of dope and generally raising the kind of hell that the pious guardians of the Country Music Hall Of Fame would have had heart attacks over (at least in public). Oh, and did I say they wrote lyrics that spoke of love and longing, trouble with their "old ladies" (or "old men"), and struggling to get through the day. Just an ordinary day's work in the music world but with their own outlandish twists on it.

All of the above is an extremely round about way to introduce the "max daddy" of my 'country music moment', Townes Van Zandt. For those who the name does not ring a bell perhaps his most famous work does, the much-covered "Pancho And Lefty". In some ways his personal biography exemplified the then "new outlaw" (assuming that Hank Williams and his gang were the original ones). Chronic childhood problems, including a stint in a mental hospital, drugs, drink, and some rather "politically incorrect" sexual attitudes. Nothing really new here, except out of this mix came some of the most haunting lyrics of longing, loneliness, depression, sadness and despair. And that is the "milder" stuff. Not exactly the stuff of Nashville. That is the point. The late Townes Van Zandt "spoke" to me (he died in 1997) in a way that Nashville never could. And, in the end, the other outlaws couldn't either. That, my friends, is the saga of my country moment. Listen up to any of the CDs listed below for the reason why Townes did.

Townes Van Zandt was, due to personal circumstances and the nature of the music industry, honored more highly among his fellow musicians than as an outright star of "outlaw" country music back in the day. That influence was felt through the sincerest form of flattery in the music industry- someone well known covering your song. Many of Townes' pieces, especially since his untimely death in 1997, have been covered by others, most famously Willie Nelson's cover of "Pancho and Lefty". However, Townes, whom I had seen a number of times in person in the late 1970's, was no mean performer of his own darkly compelling songs.

This compilation, “Townes Van Zandt”, gives both the novice a Van Zandt primer and the aficionado a fine array of his core early works in one place Start with “Don’t You Take It Too Bad”, work through the longing felt in “I’ll Be Here In The Morning”, and the pathos of “For The Sake Of The Song” that could serve as a personal Townes anthem. Then on to the sadness of “Columbine” and “Waiting’ Round To Die”. Finally, round things out with the slight hopefulness of “Colorado Girl” and the epic tragedy of “None But The Rain”. My special favorite here, as attested to by an old worn out LP album version of this CD is "(Quicksilver Daydreams of) Maria". For sheer poetic lyrical form I do not think Townes did one better, the thing jumps with many apt metaphors. Many of these songs are not for the faint-hearted but are done from a place that I hope none of us have to go but can relate to nevertheless. This well thought out product is one that will make you too a Townes aficionado. A welcome addition are the copious liner notes that give some sense of his life, his work and his lyrics. Get to it.

*Those Oklahoma Hills Back Home- The Cowboy Songs Of Woody Guthrie

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Woody Guthrie Doing "So Long Its Been Good To Know You".

CD REVIEW

Buffalo Skinners: The Asch Recordings, Volume 4, Woody Guthrie, Smithsonian/Folkways, 1999

As I have mentioned on early reviews concerning the music of folklorist Woody Guthrie if any of the older generation, the “Generation of ‘68” needs an introduction to Woody Guthrie then I ask what planet have you been on. Woody’s “This Land Is Your Land” is practically a national anthem (and in some quarters is treated as just that). Not as well known, but which now should be rectified with the production of this fourth volume of Woody’s work from his most prolific Asch Recording period of the 1940’s, is his rather large compilation of Western cowboy-oriented material. This, as the title of this entry notes, reflects those Oklahoma hills back home from whence he came.

Woody as a folklorist, as well as a singer and songwriter, was not interested in the cowboy as created by the movies, especially the one-dimensional one created in the hey day of the cowboy movie in the 1930’s, but the real one. The one who spend many a lonely night out on the trail herding cattle to market; who went hungry and dusty for long periods; and, who was nicked up, kicked up and busted up by man and animal alike. And the one who liked his entertainments short and sweet, a little simple music, a lot of simple liquor and plenty of women on those raucous Saturday nights off the range. Not much room in those tales, either for 1930’s Hollywood or Woody’s for that matter, for the ones portrayed in literature by Larry McMurtry or Cormac McCarthy or on film by “Brokeback Mountain” or those not recognized until much later like those of the black cowboys of the Oklahoma range, but those are stories for another day.

This compilation covers a wide variety of songs that pay honor, justifiably or not, to the norms of the cowboy profession. “Ranger’s Command” and “Buffalo Skinners” give a sense of the hard life on the trail and the pitfalls of ignorant cowboys being taken in by primitive agrarian or industrial capitalists or their agents-and, as in the case, of “Buffalo Skinners” the quick and sure retribution when the rank and file cowboy got his dander up. Songs of the trail and its travails get a workout here, as well, in “Little Dogies” and “Chisholm Trail”. The loneliness of the life and the vagaries of love in such a transient profession are reflected in “Cowboy Waltz” and “Red River Valley”. The theme of ’rough and ready’ justice is revealed in songs like “Slipknot” and “Billy The Kid”. Overall these twenty- six tracks, several of which also have Woody's long time traveling friend Cisco Houston accompanying him(a man whose career and place in the folk pantheon deserves more attention separately), bring to life the ‘real’ cowboy experience as it was known in Woody’s time.

As always with a Smithsonian/Folkways production the CD includes a booklet of copious liner notes that detail, for the folk historian or the novice alike, the history of each song and its genesis. I am always surprised by the insightful detail provided and as much as I know about this milieu always find something new in them. Moreover, the information here provided inevitably details the rather mundane genesis of some very famous songs like “Pretty Boy Floyd”.

Note: I want to address separately the subject of one of Woody’s most famous songs, and perhaps one of the first of his songs that I remember hearing back in the days, the above-mentioned “Pretty Boy Floyd”. I have reviewed Larry McMurtry’s novel of the same title elsewhere in this space. That novel details the actual ‘exploits of this notorious murderer at the tail end of the Old West period (and maybe, really, the post-Old West period). Woody’s version reflects a 1930’s romantic notion of this primordial outlaw as a modern day Robin Hood. Thus, even a realist like Woody, who could write with compassion and wit about the real sufferings of his beloved Okies and others, got caught up in the myths of the Old West that have sustained generations of Americans, including this reviewer, eagerly looking for a heroic past. For all its false premises though, Woody’s “Pretty Boy” has a line that still has a kernel of folk wisdom that is what drew me to the song in the first place-“some men will rob you with a six gun, and some with a fountain pen”. Sounds prophetic, right?


Pretty Boy Floyd

If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.

But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:

Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

***Larry McMurtry’s “Telegraph Days”- Thoroughly Modern…Nellie- A Modern Man Looks At The Old West

Click on title to link to Larry McMurtry's other career as a review of, mostly, Old West literature and themes, for the "New York Review Of Books"


Book Review

Telegraph Days: A Novel, Larry McMurtry, Pocket Star Books, New York, 2006

This is something of an encore by the reviewer of the work of Texas writer, bibliophile, pack rat and Old West aficionado Larry McMurtry. This space is strewn with reviews of his work, good and bad. The centerpiece of the reviews has thus far been “The Last Picture Show “series but I have commented on other efforts, in modern settings and from the Old West. I have also commented on McMurtry’s successes (and failures) in attempting to use a female narrator to put forth his viewpoint. This has been, I am afraid, a very iffy proposition. Nevertheless, here in the character of the post-modern (oops) Old West female narrator and Type –A personality Nellie Courtright he has hit pay dirt.

Old Nellie tells her saga of her interaction with the lives, lust, loves and sheer balderdash of many of the iconic figures of the Old West in the last third of the 19th century like Bill Cody, The Earps and (be still my heart) Bill Hickok, warts and all. And along the way she tells us how it was to be an ‘uppity’ (and successful) professional woman in what was very much a man’s world (and least that has been how it has always advertised). Then there is, this is a novel after all, the bravado and bragging of her various sexual exploits that may, or may not, have made grandmother blush. All in all a fast read and although not a classic McMurtry effort not bad compared with some of his other later work. I commented elsewhere that he seemed to be running out of steam in his late work. This effort staunches that a little.

A Larry McMurtry Potpourri- Part Two

BOOK REVIEWS

Loop Group, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 2004

To readers of this space it is no surprise that I am reviewing a Larry McMurtry novel. I have “discovered” this little Texas gem of an author recently (although I knew of him and some of his work earlier). Naturally, once I get “high” on an author I tend to read everything that I can get my hands on. A partial reason for that is that the number of fiction writers who hold my attention is rather limited, but mainly I like to see the high and low sides of the writer’s career so that I can revel in the reflected glory of my very good choice in picking the author to comment on. I also tend to read an author’s output as I lay my hands on his or her work rather than any particular order. Thus, at present I am reviewing this late work (2004) and an early work Leaving Cheyenne (1962) at the same time. "Loop Group" definitely suffers in comparison to that earlier work.

If I tried to put my finger on what is the outstanding attribute of a good Larry McMurtry read that would most probably be that he is a thoughtful and credible storyteller. The structure of such a story permits one to sift through life’s issues whether it is the vagaries of coming of age, the trauma of a mid-life crisis or the grimness of the struggle against mortality. This, moreover, has nothing to with locale or occupation. As a die-hard older urban Northerner Western stories, modern or from the Old West, would not usually be my natural choice of reading. However, when McMurtry is in his “high” story telling mode and he develops incidents that are believable and has characters do things that seem within the realm of human experience -and that permit one to care about and reflect upon the fates of the characters if only for the length of the story- then he is a premier American writer. That, unfortunately, is not the case here. Why?

From page one of Loop Group McMurtry gave no reason for this reviewer to delve into the characters, their lives, their problems or for that matter their solutions to those problems. Here a couple of long time, native middle level female denizens of the Hollywood film wars, Maggie and Connie, who have known each other forever, and have competed with each other for men, among other things, are struggling with their mortality. That is the unkind fate of all sixty somethings although it is not clear whether that fact alone is worthy of literary attention, at least to this sixty-something reviewer. Moreover, Mr. McMurtry has, at least in some of his 21st century writing, been bitten by the “magical realism” bug that has become a fashion among the literati of late. His plot here, such as it is, has the pair working through interminable problems in order to go on a trip to Texas so they can find some lost 'fountain of youth' there in order to fortify themselves for the last period of their lives. Along the way they encounter a series of misadventures that defy description. Hence the magical realism tag.

Moreover, interspersed throughout, to further plague Maggie and Connie are the problems confronting Maggie’s three married adult daughters with children and Connie’s unmarried, recovering drug-addicted son. The sum total of these problems is a quick sociological look at every contemporary problem of American family life not excluding the sexual ones- in the space of a few weeks. Needless to say we are today also in the “new age” when everyone must have a sexual identity and therefore a crisis of sexual identity. This little trope is also on display in McMurtry’s "When the Light Goes Out" (2007) - the “final” segment of "The Last Picture Show’s" Duane Moore story as he hits his mid-sixties.

In retrospect "Loop Group" is the preparation for "When The Lights Goes Out" except from the female perspective. That, in a nutshell, is the real problem here. As will be apparent in my review of "Leaving Cheyenne" that will follow this one McMurtry is not particularly good with individual female character development when women are in the “starring role” by themselves. I had virtually no empathy for either Maggie or Connie. Nor did I have it for Harmony in "Desert Rose", another female-centered saga . Molly, an extremely rich and independent character, of "Leaving Cheyenne" and Karla and Jacy of "The Last Picture Show" series are very different stories. A further problem along that same line is that when McMurtry leaves his Texas locale he tends to lose his way. That happened here with the Hollywood setting, it happened in "Desert Rose" set in Las Vegas and "All My Friend Are Going To Be Stranger" set mainly in Northern California. Give me Karla, Jacy, Molly, give me Texas but Mr. McMurtry please put out the light on these “magically realistic” efforts. Enough said.

A Texas Love Story

Leaving Cheyenne, Larry McMurtry, Texas A&M University Press, College Station, Texas, 1962

The first two paragraphs were used above in reviewing "Loop Group"

To readers of this space it is no surprise that I am reviewing a Larry McMurtry novel. I have "discovered" this little Texas gem of an author recently (although I knew of him and some of his work earlier). Naturally, once I get "high" on an author I tend to read everything that I can get my hands on. A partial reason for that is that the number of fiction writers who hold my attention is rather limited, but mainly I like to see the high and low sides of the writer's career so that I can revel in the reflected glory of my very good choice in picking the author to comment on. I also tend to read an author's output as I lay my hands on his or her work rather than any particular order. Thus, at present I am reviewing this late work (2004) and an early work Leaving Cheyenne (1962) at the same time. Loop Group definitely suffers in comparison to that earlier work.

If I tried to put my finger on what is the outstanding attribute of a good Larry McMurtry read that would most probably be that he is a thoughtful and credible storyteller. The structure of such a story permits one to sift through life's issues whether it is the vagaries of coming of age, the trauma of a mid-life crisis or the grimness of the struggle against mortality. This, moreover, has nothing to with locale or occupation. As a die-hard older urban Northerner Western stories, modern or from the Old West, would not usually be my natural choice of reading. However, when McMurtry is in his "high" story telling mode and he develops incidents that are believable and has characters do things that seem within the realm of human experience -and that permit one to care about and reflect upon the fates of the characters if only for the length of the story- then he is a premier American writer. That, fortunately, is the case here. Here we have "high" McMurtry. Why?

There are many ways to tell a love story. There are many ways to conceive of a love triangle, as here with the saga of the lives of Gid, Johnny and Molly out in West Texas, just 'East of Eden' in Thalia by McMurtry's lights, in roughly the middle third of the 20th century. There are many ways to put obstacles in the way of a satisfactory resolution of a love triangle in puritanically-driven America. McMurtry has come up with a very innovative method of doing this. In the first section we get the all the tensions of young love, hindered by a father-inspired driven sense of responsibility, as told by Gid. In the second section we get the mixed fruits of that puritan sense of responsibility on Gid's part, the lack of it on Johnny's part and also of girlish indecision as told by Molly, with the proviso that as she tells her tale she is a mother who has lost two sons to war and paid a pretty high price for that earlier indecision. In the final segment we get the inevitable struggle against the vicissitudes of mortality, as told humorously and with a little pathos by Johnny.

This is nicely done and the individual stories are woven together almost seamlessly so that the first event concerning Gid's and Johnny's rivalry for Molly described by Gid in Chapter One gets a very different look as told by Johnny at the end forty years later. Moreover, with some other nice humorous touches added alone the way concerning some of the minor characters like Molly's father and an old goat herder, including animals, as well as exploration of the necessary hardships of running a ranch, a labor-intensive business operation subject to all the randomness of nature. But, better than that we are given an emotional roller coaster ride as these three West Texas characters try to make sense of life, their previous histories and their entanglements together. If "Loop Group" was a low in the literary marathon McMurtry is running then "Leaving Cheyenne" is prima facie evidence for his honored place in the American literary pantheon. Kudos.

A Larry McMurtry Potpourri

Leaving Las Vegas

The Desert Rose, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1983

The last time, I believe, that it I mentioned Las Vegas in this space was regarding a review of the late Hunter Thompson’s classic “gonzo” piece "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" that used that city as the backdrop for his drug-addled adventures spoofing the rubes. The last time that I mentioned the author of the book under review, Larry McMurtry, was just recently praising his Texas trilogy that was based on his classic 1950’s coming of age tale "The Last Picture Show". In a sense McMurtry tackles the scenes that the drug-rattled Thompson failed to get- a view of those who actually live and work in Vegas 24/7/365. That story has a certain pathos that McMurtry is able to milk. Maybe not in the definitive way that he can milk small-town Texas for a story but he milks it nevertheless.

Hollywood and Las Vegas have stood culturally in America as meccas for generations of young girls from places like Oklahoma and guys from Kansas as places to achieve fame, if only for that proverbial 'fifteen minutes'. That is one of the strands that McMurtry weaved into his tale of the loves, dreams, losses and forfeitures of Las Vegas showgirl extra-ordinaire Harmony and her ill-fated marriage to that Kansas boy, Ross.

This is also a story of generations as the product of the marriage, Pepper, although only a teenager seems destined to avoid most of the mistakes that “mom” made by having more talent - for picking right guys, rejecting bad guys and being a dancing prodigy rather than a mere showgirl. The problem, however, is that for Pepper to rise Harmony must fall. The two cannot share center stage in the casinos or in life. Moreover, in a youth-crazed culture epitomized to the nth degree in Vegas aging “mom” cannot fight the fates, even if she had the capacity to do so. That is the drama that centrally drives this little piece.

Along the way we get to look at the lives and loves of the people who hold Las Vegas together (if not themselves). We get to view lifelong Vegas denizens, the inevitable gay wardrobe guy, assorted talented or talentless showgirls and their trials and tribulations, sundry backstage types who share the dreams of the spotlight. Is this a McMurtry work that you must read? No, I already told you that "Last Picture Show" trilogy is a must read. But if you have a few hours, and want to read about what Thompson missed on his sojourn, then read this little novel.


Portrait Of A Writer As A Young Man

All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers. Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1972.

As is usually the case when I get excited about an author’s work I tend to delve into all the work in order to see which way he or she is heading. That is the case here with Larry McMurtry. I have just finished reading his "The Last Picture Show" trilogy ("The Last Picture Show"; "Texasville"; and, "Duane’s Depressed") about coming of age in small town Texas, having one’s mid-life crisis there and, in the end, struggling against the strains of mortality there as well. The cumulative effect of this work was a five-star review. Here we step back to early McMurtry and while the promise is certainly there as well as his quirky look at modern life this is the work of a rising star writer not of a master writer.

Why? Well, for one thing the subject matter. All fictional writing in the final analysis may be autobiographical, consciously or unconsciously, but here the trials and tribulations of a young Texas writer who heads to California to find himself after the budding prominence of the publication of his first book and a movie offer is, well, just a little too precious. Moreover, the inevitable romantic problems of twenty-something males (and, by now in the 2000s, females) has been done to death. Nothing really jumps out here other than some cogent observations about the foibles of human nature as strained through the California mill. My advice to Danny, the protagonist writer here is –Go east, young man, go east back to Texas. That’s where your pot of gold is. Do you need to read this book? If you have time. Do you need to read "The Last Picture Show" trilogy. Damn right. That’s the different in a nutshell.

Welcome To Thalia- The Early Work of Larry McMurtry

BOOK/DVD REVIEW

The Eyes of Texas

Hud, starring Paul Newman, Patricia Neal and Melvyn Douglas, directed by Martin Ritt, UA, 1963

The last time I have had a chance to mention the work of Larry McMurtry, whose novel this movie is adapted from, was a recent review of his The Last Picture Show trilogy (a must read, by the way) concerning the coming of age, mid-life crises and struggles with mortality of a cohort of small town Texas characters, especially one Duane Moore. As usual when I get ‘high’ on an author I like to run through most of his or her work to see where he or she is going with it. Thus, this review of a lesser work turned into an exceptional film is something of an introduction to themes that McMurtry likes to give a work out in his literary efforts. Apparently, when it comes to bring to life the Texas of the 1950’s and 1960’s either cinematically or in book form your first (and maybe last stop, although I would give Horton Foote some play) is at Mr. McMurtry’s doorstep.

Okay, so what is the big deal? Take one young, world weary, cynical handsome and well-built ne’r-do-well 1950’s cowboy Paul Newman, complete with Cadillac and cowboy hat (and an eye for the ladies, needless to say). Take one old-time rancher father of said Hud, Melvyn Douglas giving the performance of his life as a man out of step with the times as oil-rich Texas is passing him by. Take one sultry (yes, sultry in a country sort of way) substitute mother as the household cook and drudge. Add, for generational purposes, a young teenage grandson the prototype for later characters that we shall see again in other Texas scenarios by McMurtry. Put them all together with all kinds of family, personal and social tensions and a ranch crisis brought on by an epidemic of cattle hoof and mouth disease. Film it in black and white (a natural medium for 1950’s- 1960’s modern cowboy movies-think the Misfits) and place it in small town Texas with all its pride, prejudices and customs. Then take a couple of hours to see how a well-written novel and a well-thought out film can mesh as one. This is the Texas of Larry’s dreams and ours. Kudos.

Horseman, Pass By, Larry McMurtry, University of Texas Press, 1961

I will concede that I have been on something of tear concerning the works of Larry McMurtry lately. That is just the way I operate when I find that rare novelist that “speaks” to me. Gore Vidal, the great American historical novelist, is another whose works you will be seeing reviewed more in this space. That said, the particularly purpose here is to compare McMurtry’s Horseman, Pass By with Hud, the cinematic version of this novel, that starred the recently deceased Paul Newman as a misbegotten, angry modern cowboy, a very talented actor from my youth. I, frankly, like to make such comparisons to see how close the film comes to the novel.

Some films, as I recall from an article that Joan Didion wrote in the New York Review of Books concerning one of her books, move very far away from the author’s intent. That happened in her case and she had to abandon the screenwriting of the film version of one of her books in the interest of her own artistic integrity. Some cinematic presentations, even more egregiously, pay bare homage to their source. That occurred in Ernest Hemingway’s To Have and To Have Not. Here the situation is something of a happy mix between the need to highlight the 1960’s blue-eyed heart throb Newman’s role as the errand, self-centered cowboy “angel” Hud and the coming of age story of his teenage nephew Lonnie that McMurtry is trying to portray here.

Naturally, as McMurtry’s intent is to show not only the ruthless way that the modern cowboy, Hud, has to deal with the world in order to survive but the vagaries of his nephew Lonnie’s coming of age in rural West Texas in the 1950’s (in the mythical town of Thalia the scene of more than one of his efforts) the screenwriting must reflect director Martin Ritt’s concerns to keep the story moving. Thus the book, unlike the movie, concentrates not on the action of the various events in ranch (the problem with the cattle that have to be destroyed) and small town life (the booze, dances and Last Picture Show movie house) that drive the film but the sheer struggle against loneliness and meaningless that every teenager goes through but more so here. Those feelings, described so well here (and in The Last Picture Show) do not translate well onto the screen.

There are a number of other characters and events in the book that do not make it to the screen. The family relationship between Grandpa Homer Bannon and Hud is different (although the generational tensions are still present). Grandma Bannon is still alive (as Homer’s second wife and Hud’s mother) and the housekeeper is black not white like in the film. Needless to say Newman’s sexual assault of the housekeeper (played by Patricia Neal) in the early 1960’s era film subject to more taboos than today is much less graphic than in the book. But a good suggestion here is to watch the film for the performances of Newman, Neal and Melvyn Douglas (as Homer) AND read this novel. This is McMurtry’s first effort at being the “king” of Texas story tellers (New West version and Old West version, as well). The pair of efforts compliment each other. That is a rare feat.