Saturday, June 02, 2007

image courtesy of THE VINYL MASTERS

An important message concerning The Candymen & Beaverteeth from Dave Morris at THE VINYL MASTERS:

Hi again Robert,

Here's two good mp3 files folks can link to for a bit:

And - maybe you can help me here too. I just acquired sealed copies of the 2 Candymen LP releases, and plan to master them to CD as well. I've been trying to locate a 45 of 'Go And Tell The People / It's Gonna Get Good In A Minute" to add as 'bonus tracks' if at all possible (I've already found a 45 of "Happy Tonight / Papers" to add to these). I've given copies of our ARS and Beaverteeth material to Rodney Justo and Dave Adkins, as well as a couple other earlier members of the band (standard procedure for us actually!). The same would apply here for the Candymen material as well. Might you know anyone who would have a usable 45 of this that would be willing to 'donate' it for transfer purposes only (they would get it back, along with copies of the CD's as a thank you). Any help you can lend is greatly appreciated! Once it's completed, we offer it to the band members, and ... who knows? Maybe we'll find a way to get these released commercially, so all may enjoy them again!


Dave Morris
The Vinyl Masters

image courtesy of
Left To Right
Barry Bailey - Paul Goddard - Dean Daughtry
Robert Nix - J. R. Cobb -
Rodney Justo

Hey y'all:
Received word today that Paul Goddard, the amazing bass player for ARS, is going into the hospital on Monday June 11 for back surgery.
In the coming days, let's all keep Paul in our prayers.

Everybody here in ZERO, NORTHWEST FLORIDA sure appreciates Robert Nix joining in and helping Jimmy Dean get his facts straight. The following is the corrected version of Jimmy's reminiscences:

John Rainey Adkins' group was first known as Spider and the Webs. I used to sit on his doorstep and listen to them rehearse and go next door and buy Picayune cigarettes for John Rainey. One of their first gigs was on a flat bed trailer at the bowling alley here in Dothan. "Spider" Griffin left for Texas, and after a while Bobby Goldsboro joined the group. Buddy Buie started booking shows, and one in Dothan starred Roy Orbison. As the Webs's manager, he put them on the show backing up Orbison. They got the job as Roy Orbison's road band after that show, which was I think in '60 or '61.

After a few years, Bobby struck out on his own and the group tried out several different singers for a while. In '63 or '64, John Rainey got into a squabble with Roy about something---he told me it was because he didn't like flying, which made little sense since Roy's tour bus stayed in John Rainey's driveway when they were off. Anyway, John Rainey came back to Dothan and restarted the Webs--the other group was no longer using the name--with new musicians except for Amos Tindall, the Webs' original bass player. Amos decided to quit music for the second time, and John Rainey started teaching me their songs (I was in school and had been playing bass in a local band).

The day I graduated from Dothan High School, I took over as bass player in that version of the Webs. But John Rainey had patched up his disagreement with Roy by then, and he left to go back on the road. Buddy Buie, the original Webs' manager, was also manager of our group. After a few months, he took our singer, Wilbur Walton, Jr., and me, and put us with three musicians from Birmingham, Alabama, and named our new group the James Gang. This was in October of 1964, before the other group with Joe Walsh was formed. We had several regional hits in the South, including Buddy and John Rainey's song, "Georgia Pines."

About this same time, the Orbison backup group, with John Rainey on guitar, Robert Nix on drums (replacing Paul Garrison), and Bill Gilmore on bass, hired a keyboardist we all called "Little Bobby" Peterson. After several attempts at finding a singer, they hired Rodney Justo of Tampa, Florida, singer of a Florida group called the Mystics. They became the Candymen. Little Bobby got drafted, and Dean Daughtry took over on keyboards.

Our group, the James Gang, burned out in 1970, and by that time John Rainey was back in Dothan playing with a group he had formed with his younger brother David, working in clubs and as studio musicians at Playground Studio in the Florida panhandle. In May of 1972, he hired me as bass player. The group was called Beaverteeth.

Dean and Robert Nix were in Atlanta working as studio musicians at Buddy's new studio with Barry Bailey, J. R. Cobb, and Paul Goddard. Rodney Justo joined them and they became The Atlanta Rhythm Section. Rodney didn't stay with them for long. The next thing we heard was that he was working for B. J. Thomas. In the spring of 1973, he called John Rainey and said B. J. needed a backup band, so that is how we got that job. B. J. came to Dothan and we rehearsed a couple of weeks at my father's warehouse, and we hit the road right after that.

We worked with B. J. until the summer of 1975, when he hired new management with whom we didn't get along. We came back to Dothan, and our singer, Charlie Silva, was found to have cancer and had to quit. John Rainey called Rodney, and he came up from Tampa and became our lead singer. We played clubs until the end of the year, but at this time disco music was replacing the Southern rock I had enjoyed so much, so I quit music for good in February of 1976. They hired another bass player and carried on for a couple more years, even putting out one or two albums, but it didn't work and Beaverteeth folded.

John Rainey and David joined a country band that played around for several years, then John Rainey went to work at a music store in Dothan. Charlie Silva lost his battle with cancer, Rodney Justo went back to Tampa, and I went into the advertising business as a commercial artist, also in Dothan. John Rainey and I stayed in touch---I freelanced as a political cartoonist, and he liked to do cartoons too, so often he would call me at midnight to talk about my latest cartoon. He is the one who called me and told me Roy was dead. A year or so later, somebody else called me and told me John Rainey was dead.

I was a pallbearer at his funeral, so I suppose we were friends to the end.

James L. (Jimmy) Dean
Dothan, Alabama, USA

SPRINGTIME by Pierre Auguste Cot
image courtesy of

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This cat named William Barlow wrote literally a blues encyclopedia in '89 called LOOKING UP AT DOWN: The Emergence of Blues Culture.
Dr. Barlow interviewed William "Piano Red" Perryman at Wolf Trap, VA in August of '81.
"Piano Red" composed RIGHT STRING, BABY, BUT THE WRONG YO YO which was covered by Wilbur Walton Jr. & The James Gang in the mid Sixties.

Check out what "Piano Red" had to say:

You couldn't make a livin' playin' them rent parties, but you could have a good time. You could make a little something extra, eat and drink all you want, and hang around with the other musicians. There was a lot of piano players back then. Old Soup Stick was a good one, played that low-down blues. Then there was them boys from Spartanburg I used to run around with- Ted Wright and Colfield West. Oh, there was a lot of them, but mostly they didn't have no names- just come and go.

(Dr. Barlow continues...)
Unlike most of Atlanta's blues piano players, Piano Red remained based in Atlanta for his entire career, which spanned five decades. He made his first recordings with Blind Willie McTell in the mid 1930s; then in the postwar years he became "Dr. Feelgood," the popular host of a daily blues radio show broadcast on WERD.

Throughout the 1920s, Atlanta was the major race recording site in the South and therefore attractive to migrant blues musicians. The two major race record labels active in Atlanta were Okeh and Columbia.

The man responsible for the Okeh recording sessions in the city was Polk Brockman, a white Atlanta native who got into the record business after taking over the phonograph department of his father's furniture store. Brockman had little interest in the blues, but when he realized that money could be made selling black secular and sacred recordings, he made a deal with Ralph Peer at Okeh Records. In essence, Polk Brockman became Peer's surrogate in Atlanta, and eventually in other southern cities like Birmingham, New Orleans and Dallas. The best-known rural blues artists he signed for recording sessions included the Mississippi Sheiks and Blind Lemon Jefferson. On the local black music scene, he preferred the vaudeville performers who played at the 81 Theatre; it was there he came across Eddie Haywood, and famous comedy duo of Butterbeans and Susie and arranged recording sessions for them. His most prolific and profitable recording artist was a local preaching phenomenon, the Reverend J. M. Gates, who had a large following in Atlanta's black community. Later in the decade, Brockman was joined by Frank Walker of Columbia Records, who made frequent trips to Atlanta to supervise recording sessions. Among those he recorded were Lillian Glinn and Blind Willie McTell.

Barlow 'bout knocked me down when he used the following 1937 quote from a local black newspaper in Dallas to open Chapter 7- "STORMY MONDAY": Urban Blues in the Southwest:

Down on Deep Ellum in Dallas, where Central Avenue empties into Elm Street and Ethiopia stretches forth her hands. It is the one spot in the city that needs no daylight saving time because there is no bedtime, and working hours have no limits. The only place recorded on earth where business, religion, hoodooism, gambling and stealing go on without friction.


Barlow saves his most profound thoughts for his conclusion on page 346 of his book:

An unusual cross-section of people are currently engaged in blues culture. Their race, class, and generational differences have made it one of those rare, eclectic, and in many ways utopian social experiments that can take place only on the fringes of the dominant culture. In mainstream American society, integration on the job and in the schools is mandated by law, but social space remains color- and class-coded. That is, people work together and share public accomodations and services, but spend their leisure time in separate communities according to race and social class, in that order. The blues culture runs contrary to this sort of social stratification, especially where color is concerned. What began as a black proletarian cultural formation a hundred years ago has been transformed by succeeding generations of blues people into a novel interracial melting pot. In particular, the postwar transference of the blues tradition from an old black working-class generation to a younger white middle-class generation has sent ripples of unconventional social relations throughout the society.

The magnitude of this cultural exchange is unprecedented in the history of race relations in the United States. Not that all is peace, harmony, sisterhood, and brotherhood in the blues community. The historical legacy of racism must still be overcome, and there are class, generational, and gender differences that need to be breached. But at least there exists the possibility of some cross-cultural communication and even conflict resolution, if only because people are already bound together by their common love and respect for the music. This proclivity to break down cultural barriers and to refashion race and social relations along more egalitarian lines gives the blues culture its utopian potential and positions it as a radical alternative to the color-coded, hierarchical dominant culture.


Please pick up a copy of Jerry Henry's review of Jimmy Hall's new album
showcasing EDDIE HINTON'S music in Planet Weekly this week.

Got a wonderful call from the Rockin' Gibraltars' Bobby Dupree tonight.
I am officially Bobby Dupree's roadie for the ROBERT E. LEE CLASS OF '67

GREG HAYNES FROM is 'sposed to be there selling books.

Rockin' Gibraltars' guitarist Rusty Crumpton needs to be in all our prayers rite now.
He may not play at all at the gig because of a heart aryhthymia that takes away all his energy.

Yestiddy wuz the 40th anniversary of the release of Sgt. Peppers. Check it out @

I hope you still feel sorry for me 'cause I'm still sleeping on that purple leather couch from Denver where Mick Jagger met Janis Joplin.


Please listen to the onliest song I ever co-wrote that's on the Web called SALLY SANG:

& LUV YO' Po' Body

Listen to the song called
SALLY SANG I wrote in '72!

THE BOPCATS [l to r, top: Frank Tanton{Chimes, Clique,Beaverteeth},Ronnie Waller ,

l to r,bottom: Richard "Buddy" Burke{Clique, Easy Street, Equalizers, Legend} & Lamar Miller

THE BOPCATS have carved out a very special place in my heart. Frank, Buddy and Lamar put together a band for one gig called "City Kids" [i think] in about '82. They decided not to be a cover band but to play their own stuff. Back in '72 and '73, I had written some lyrics and Buddy had put them to music but that was back when we were in our early 20s. Well, Frank, Buddy and Lamar gave me a dream of a lifetime when,ten years after I had forgotten that stuff, they played the tunes I wrote the lyrics to and recorded their set at something called "The Frogtown Festival" [i think]

Anyway, I had the tape for years. Right now, I have no idea where it is but during the darkest summer of my life, I played that cassette every day. I absolutely loved hearing the people yell after my songs were played. The songs they played were [i think] "Sally Sang", "Andrew, You're Gonna Die On A Back Ward", "The Ballad Of Grover & Becky", "Don't Be Too Fast For The South" and "A 40 Year Vacation Is All I Need".
All of us became friends for different reasons. Unknown to three of us, our fathers were already best friends and we didn't even know it because we were so young and ignorant.
I have no idea what it must be like to have been a Rock Star but I know what it's like to hear your songs played live to a crowd who enjoyed them. For that, I wanna thank The Bopcats from my hometown of Dothan, Alabama.

Here's some mo' Wiregrass Rock History courtesy of Hanke[DHS '66]

Subject :
Dothan bands part 2

I don't want to bother you too much but I thought I'd try to clear up a couple of things. David Tedder was the one who died in a traffic accident. He was the drummer with the Offbeats and also Norman Andrews and the Concrete Bubble.
In 1972, Billy Gant, George Cheshire, Roan Campbell and I released a record on the Shelby Singleton label called "Hard Times".
It actually made it into the top 100 for a very short period of time. We played a few shows (state fairs etc.) before we all went our seperate ways.
Bill Hanke


BROTHER DAVE Gardner's Comic Style

During his brief time as a superstar among the U.S.A.'s socially-aware 'stand-up' comedians of the late 1950's and early 1960's, he successfully fused a 'stream-of-consciousness' style of addressing subjects (e.g., Lord Buckley, Jean Shepherd) with a classic Southern-American 'storyteller/liars'-bench' manner (e.g., Andy Griffith, and the later Justin Wilson and Jerry Clower), setting himself apart a bit from contemporaries such as Mort Sahl, Lenny Bruce, and Shelley Berman.

Gardner mixed one-liner stand-alone 'zingers' (e.g.,

"What will the Preachers do when the Devil is saved??";

"Contentment is Riches, and Complaint is Poverty, and the worst I ever had was wonderful!";

"Let them that don't want none, have memories of never gittin' any!"

with satirical musings on his contemporary political scene, and also told traditional Southern comedy stories. Most notable among these were "The Motorcycle Story;" "When John Gets Here" (also called "The Haunted House"); and, his version of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar as set in Rome, Georgia (U.S. State).

Gardner made a good deal of his comic "mileage" off of his boosting of all things in Southern-U.S.A. culture, making him a sort of latter-day version of Kenny Delmar's "Senator Claghorn" character on Fred Allen's classic radio show. He smoked cigarettes throughout his routines, bragging on them as "a Southern product." He spoke of a Southerner's culinary fondness for "a Moon pie and an R.C. [ R.C. Cola ]." Anticipating the bottled-water market by almost 30 years, he noted that, at Hot Springs, Arkansas, he had seen the so-called "stupid, ignorant Southerners sellin' water to them brilliant Yankees."

He said that the difference between a Northern Baptist and a Southern Baptist was that the Northern one said, "There ain't no Hell," and the Southern one said, "The hell there ain't."

While Gardner did spin routines based on a wide-ranging social freedom, some of his material did show the racial stereotypes of his time. Often, he had any African-American characters in his routines speak with an exaggerated, high-pitched, Butterfly McQueen-style accent, as in "The Motorcycle Story." In another routine, he depicted an African-American woman as saying to a fellow of her race,
"James Lewis, you git away from that wheelbarrow--you know you doesn't know nothin' 'bout machinery!"

Friday, June 01, 2007

Robert, you have the best blog in the South.
I’m totally hooked on it.


Thursday, May 31, 2007


Hey y'all:

I knew in my gut we had something with that front page article in the News yestiddy.

GOOD stuff has come out of it.

Back when I was Brophy's bitch
before I started
I met Dr. Holmes on the Net.
Dr. Robert P. Holmes works for Yale which is a school all us Chuck Bryan fans love.

image courtesy of CHUCK BRYAN

Well, up 'ere in New Haven wid all dem mean ass P.R.s,
Dr. Holmes does some good work.
He don't appear to be 'flicted wid dah ACADEMIC COMA -
Now,don't git me wrong,
he ain't got a fuckin' clue
'bout the power of the cotton gin but
he hasn't disappointed me
& I rilly hope I nevah find him in cahoots
dat wormy little shit Brophy
& his ilk

Boy might have some sense.
I got an email from him today:

Re: If Buie Hadn't Made Me Git A Phone, None Of This Good Stuff Would Be Happening!
Extremely cool, Roberto!

Check out the link on my sig. file for my new news.

All best,


Here's his bio:

Robert P. Forbes is the associate director of

the Gilder Lehrman Center for the Study of Slavery, Resistance, and Abolition.

After graduating summa cum laude in 1987 from the George Washington University, he received his Ph.D. from Yale in 1994. He has also taught at Wesleyan and Rutgers. He is the co-author of a biography of Francis Kernan, a nineteenth-century U.S. Senator from New York, as well as several articles and numerous encyclopedia entries. He wrote the lead chapter in Prophets of Protest: Reconsidering the History of American Abolitionism (New Press, 2006) and a chapter in a study on The National Capital in A Nation Divided, coming out in 2007 from Ohio University Press. In addition, he helped design a successful NEH "Landmarks of American History" grant proposal for a teachers institute on "Beyond Amistad," which will take place during Summer 2007.

His book, The Missouri Compromise and Its Aftermath: Slavery and the Meaning of America will be published by University of North Carolina Press in May 2007.


P.S. We now have over 150 friends at John Rainey's site.
They are rilly some superb sistuhs & bro's
who represent the heart & soul of modern Southern music today.
Join & check it out!

image courtesy of

A review from Barrie W. Bracken

Dr. Robert P. Forbes is no stranger to students of the antebellum era.
His previous articles have been noted for their clear readable style and scholarship.
Dr. Forbes states the book took a long time to come into being as a finished work.
The result shows a well thought out examination and interpretation which makes the wait worthwhile.
His colleagues, experts in the field of antebellum history, state they "learned a great deal from the work."
The real value of this work is in its examination not only of the well known history of the Missouri Compromise itself --the formulation and passage of the legislation--but the even more important aspects of the effect of this compromise and the devastating result of its being revoked.
The book has enough meat in it to satisfy the most discerning scholar and a facile style to satisfy the general reader.
This is a volume that belongs in the library of every student of history, of politics, social movement,
and ultimately the dissolution of the Union.
Congratulations to Robert Forbes for a great gift to us.

As you all know I have advocated having an archaeological excavation of the four slave cabins in Dr. Witt's back yard since I came to Tuscaloosa in '68.

I'm gonna go out on a limb rite now
and say with all honesty that,
I have never met a leftist
who wanted to talk about slavery who was ever interested in the life of a slave.

None of them seem to give a rat's ass about these people's lives and I got proof!

Slaves Cabin #1 with old Tutwiler in background- October 16, 1935

Slaves Cabin #2- October 16, 1935
Slaves Cabin #2 is now Witt's garden shop but it used to have the well for the dairy & the house.
When Mrs. Garland told the slaves to put the Yankee's fire out in the President's House,
my ninjas got they
water here!

From a review of Hidden Lives:
Heath herself concedes that "much of the story of the African-American community living at Poplar Forest still remains buried in the ground" (66), and she makes no pretenses to offering a full account of slave life on the plantation. Still, some of the evidence is tantalizing for scholars looking to answer important questions about the daily lives of slaves. Higher quality ceramics were found in one structure than in another, for example, hinting perhaps at class differences within the slave community. All three structures had yards placed strategically so that the view from the nearby overseer's house was partially obscured, which may point to the ability of slaves to carve semi-private spaces out of the landscape. So too does the existence of the small cellars dug in the floor of one of the quarters. Found at slave sites across Virginia, Tennessee, and South Carolina, these pits may have cultural origins in West Africa. The discovery of so many coins, buttons, glass beads, and buckles suggests the involvement of slaves in an informal economy and the importance they placed upon adorning otherwise drab wardrobes. Other artifacts like marbles and fragments of a writing slate hint at leisure activities for children and at literacy. The contents of garbage pits reveal information about how slaves supplemented the diet Jefferson offered them by hunting, trapping, and gathering. Numerous locks and keys found at the site may suggest that slaves used them to lock up their possessions and thus had semi-recognized rights to private property. One particularly fascinating discovery was the largest and most varied collection of stone pipes ever found in Virginia, and related artifacts indicate that African Americans at Poplar Forest manufactured pipes in addition to using them to smoke tobacco.

You oughta find a bunch of bones here!
Slaves Cabin #3 wuz dah kitchen & now it's Witt's garage!


Slaves Cabin #2, A.K.A. Witt's Garden Shop & the location of the well

Wednesday, March 10, 2004


The drawings are on the library of congress website:

Then search for University of Alabama.

I love the historic buildings website--didn't realize that the slave
cabin drawings were on there, or that they even existed until you
told me.


Wednesday, May 30, 2007

image courtesy of & Mike
John Lieb places a photo board inside a test trench along Capstone Drive Tuesday.
The test trench turned up steps to the old Jefferson Hall basement.

Digging up UA's past
Dig examines area of torched Civil War-era dorms

By Lydia Seabol Avant
Staff Writer Tuscaloosa News

TUSCALOOSA | Belt buckles, buttons, a toothbrush and even part of an iron bed are some of the Civil War-era artifacts unearthed in an ongoing archaeological dig on the University of Alabama campus.

In a 5-by-20-foot hole in the parking lot behind Gorgas Library, large stone steps lead down to a hard clay floor -- steps that once led to the cellar of Jefferson Hall. Built in 1831, it was one of UA’s first dormitories and was burned by federal troops during the Civil War in 1865.

The three-story dormitory housed 96 students in 12 compartments, or suites. Each suite had a sitting room with a fireplace and two bedrooms.

When the building was torched, everything inside collapsed into the cellar, Robert Clouse, executive director of UA’s Office of Archaeological Research, said Tuesday.

Before they began excavating, researchers did not know if they would find anything of interest, but they did use ground-penetrating radar to show areas of low soil density in spots where Jefferson and Washington dormitories once stood. It was luck that one of the sites included the old cellar steps, said Clouse, who is leading the excavation.

“It’s not predictable what you are going to find, but we got a lot of items out of this," he said.

The dig site is just a few feet deep. Just below the asphalt is a thick layer of bricks left when the site was filled in with rubble after the fire. Below that is a deeper layer of ashes, burned chunks of wood and soot-covered brick fragments.

Most of the artifacts were found within the deeper layer, including part of a chamber pot, smoking pipes, square-pegged nails and even a piece of a hornet’s nest.

Most of the items were found at the site of Jefferson Hall. But two other 5-by-20-foot archaeological sites were dug where Washington Hall once stood.

Washington was the school’s other dormitory, built in 1831 and burned during the Civil War. It stood just west of the spot where Gorgas Library stands today. Not as many artifacts were unearthed at the Washington site, Clouse said.

The third and final block will be dug this week, so more artifacts could possibly be found, said Darrell Smith, a cultural resource assistant who is working on the dig.

The dig is the most significant archaeological finding on campus since the mid-1980s, when the original site of the rotunda was discovered, Clouse said. In 1975, the site of Madison Hall was excavated.

image courtesy of
Robert Clouse peers into a test trench after placing a photo board along Capstone Drive Tuesday.
photo by Michael E. Palmer

All of the artifacts found at Jefferson and Washington Halls will be preserved, catalogued and stored by the university. Some of the items will be displayed in the Alabama Museum of Natural History at Smith Hall, Clouse said.

In the meantime, the dig, which began on May 14, could be extended. Clouse is making a request to the university to widen the search area. Very little is left from the university’s early period, which makes these findings important, he said.

In 2008, work will begin to close Capstone Drive by building a plaza between Gorgas Library and Clark Hall. Once the dig is complete, researchers will record where the site is located so that utilities can be routed around the site in the future.

While preserving the site with glass floors would probably prove cost-prohibitive, marking the buildings’ original footprints could be a possibility, said Dan Clark, professor of military science at UA. On Tuesday, Clark proposed naming the Crimson Ride stops on Capstone Drive the “Washington Stop" and the “Jefferson Stop" to commemorate the sites.

Reach Lydia Seabol Avant at lydia.seabol@tuscaloosanews or 205-722-0222.


of having to click over to
to hear some ROCK
that I just mailed her the check for $17.95

Alison Heafner
245 Robin Lane
Batesville, MS 38606

so I could get her new CD and just listen.

I was disgusted by some litter on a Tuscaloosa street so I called Michael Palmer
& in my bestest, most immaculate John Hartford
voice, SED,
"Michael Palmer, this is your daily photo opportunity service. My name is Robert and we got garbage on 30th Ave."

We joked and Mike said, "So how was your holiday?"

"Oh man! The University dug up the cellar of a dormitory
the damn Yankees burned behind Gorgas."

"I'm going there," he replied.

I contacted the alleged Michael E. Palmer this evening & told him in no uncertain terms dat
were owed at least ONE PEPPERMINT SCHNAPPS

As God as my witness, Palmer said, "I owe you six or seven."


Please y'all check out Randall Bramblett

image courtesy of


Tuesday, May 29, 2007



The cat's name is Matt Oree
& he's Mr. Mo Jo Rising!


P.S. Please listen to song called SALLY SANG which I wrote the lyrics to in 1972.
Richard Burke put it up on the Web @


Tell Lee that my dollar camera case was not such a good deal. As I took a crap in the train station it fell off my belt. I lost my binoculars, wife's credit card, digital camera with Alison's graduation pictures in it, and my $600 railpass. It started a bad day, but it ended good cuz I met sheep herder. But tell Lee that the same morning I bought a passport holder at a yard sale. I hope it doesn't have a hole in it or sumthin. Having a great time. Check Alison's blog.


Now here dah rill stuff from Archie's daughter Allison

Down Under


Day 1: After 24hrs of flying we arrived in Sydney at 6am May 24th (we left the 22nd). We rented a car to the beautiful Blue Mtns and hiked to the 3 sisters. Later we hung around the town of Katoomba and had a couple of beers. We stayed at a hostel in a room with two hot guys. Dad told them that he needed the top bunk with the fan b/c of his farting problem. Just a little embarassing. Anyway we were so jet-lagged we ended up passing out at 7pm.

Day 2: We woke up early and drove to the Jenolen Caves. To get there we drove down a 30km road and didn't see a single car. We took a 2hr tour down into a cave and I was definitely impressed. I've never been in one before but Dad and Aunt Avery said it was similar to the caves in the states. We drove around the Blue Mtns for a few hours before returning to Sydney. The drive back to Sydney was hell b/c we had to find our way back to the airport in rush hour traffic. We dropped the car off and hauled ass to the train station to catch the train to Melbourne. We were all so stressed out from driving on the left side of the road, Dad and Aunt Avery needed a cold one. Too bad the beer on the train was light beer and after a few they realized light mean't less alcohol. We spent the night on the train.

Day 3: We arrived in Melbourne around 7 in the morning and it was cold. I took a PTA bath in the restroom and we caught a shuttle to the airport where I thought I had made our rental car reservations. Turns out we were supposed to pick our car up downtown. Oops. Once we had a car we drove north of the city into the hills. We drove thru the suburbs and hit a few garage sales (ofcourse). We somehow found a dirt road that led us to a cottage where we had lunch. There were kangaroos grazing in the backyard! While we were eating dad realized he had lost his camera bag, so we drove back into the city to try and find it. No luck it was lost along with his rail pass and his camera with my full memory card. So that's why there are no pretty pics posted yet. Sorry mom but my graduation pics were on their too. Anyway, we went back out of town into the hills and found a little town called Daylesford. We ate at a local pub where dad met a sheep herder and they instantly became buddies. We drank, ate and crashed around 9pm.

Day 4: Today we woke up in Daylesford and had a nice breakie in the hotel. Aunt Avery explained to the hotel keeper how we use white sugar in the states not brown sugar for our coffee. Unfortunately we couldn't find her again to tell her that we realized it was instant coffee she was adding to her coffee. Daylesford has a Sunday morning market so we were excited. Dad bought a coat, I forgot to mention that both he and Aunt Avery left their coats in the car at home. I bought 2 scarfs and some trail mix snacks. There was this guy selling all sorts of meat bones and Aunt Avery was checking it out for awhile. For some reason she thought the bones were for people to snack on. The guy thought she was crazy I'm sure. After the market Dad went and joined up with his sheep buddy and got a tour of his farm. I'm sure that's gonna be one of the highlights of this trip for him. After Daylesford we drove around in the country and passed a farmers protest of wind turbines. They had signs all over the place NO TUKI TURBINES (Tuki is the town). There were like 20 people out in the middle of nowhere standing around striking, it was probably the whole town. We eventually weaved our way thru the country and began the hellish journey of finding our hostel inside Melbourne. OMG I was scared for my life. We were right in the middle of the City with trams and trains running along the side of us and Dad forgetting which side of the road to stay on. I almost had a panic attack. For over an hour we kept trying to get on one road and after freaking out I don't know how many times Dad pulled over infront of a hotel and asked a guy getting in a car for directions. He was really friendly and came up to the car and took my glasses off my head to use for reading the map and crackin' jokes. He said he would put the address of the hostel in his GPS and we could follow him. He led us straight there and Dad jumped out of the car to shake his hand and give him his card, ya know just in case he ever was in Forkland Alabama :) So the guy wrote down his name and number and invited us to come to his house and ride his horses. Dad asked him what he did and he said he was in television and that we should google him. After we got into the hostel we were telling our story and Dad pulled out the card and read the guys name Ernie Dingo. Everyone was like wow you met him! Apparently he's on tv a lot and he was the aboringinal in Crocodile Dundee! So I guess all of the stress was worth meeting a celebrity.

Day 5 Melbourne: So this morning we caught the tram to Melbourne and walked around. Melbourne's pop. is about 3 1/2 million so there were people everywhere. We had lunch in chinatown and Dad and I split off from Aunt Avery and went to the Aquarium. They had the deadly Sidney spiders in the aquarium. They were the size of tarantullas and they're in the city! We took the tram back to the hostel on St. Kilda (or Kilder in Aunt Avery language) and got off too early so we had to walk a mile or so. When we got back to the hostel Dad was worried about Aunt Avery, but she just walked in the room a few minutes ago. I knew she'd be fine. Now they're down stairs drinking beer and I guess we're gonna go find some food. Melbourne's a nice city with a lot of public artsy stuff but it's not really exciting. I'm looking forward to tomorrow, we're gonna drive down the Great Ocean Road.


#1: I don't know anyone who knows much about St. Stephens
because the old town was strip mined for limestone to send to New Orleans.
Read George Gaines Reminiscences.

All of the "ARCHAEOLOGICAL" activity that the "academic shitheads" are doing there is in the new town at the bottom of the bluff which is all COTTON KINGDOM & has absolutely nothing to do with the formative years you speak about.

Greg (his email address will be in the CC of this email)
was the guy who spoke with me at Landmarks Park back when you came to hear us. He knows more than anyone.

You ought to drive around the delta in Greg's truck. He has everything on computer including the "Spanish grant claims" and as you are riding down the road, you can see EXACTLY where you are on the computer screen by way of GPS in relation to the entire delta on current USGS Quad maps as well as the land claims of 1804.

Don't write a word until you do that.

The Baldwin County Historical Society is building the county history museum in Stockton.

Greg is the cat who put up the Ellicott Line historic marker in Stockton.

The reason you have to go there is to understand that the west side of the river was America and the east side of the river was hell on wheels as exhibited by Fort Mims.
The big thing there is the cutoff- a long waterway that connected the two sides by ferry through the delta.

The plight of the Ft. Mims families is about the saddest thing you can imagine. They pleaded for help from Congress on their legitimate land titles from English, Spanish and French deeds continuously from 1799 on.

Nothing happened.


image courtesy of

I drew it from a photo of me in front of our ops tent in Soc Trang,
South Vietnam, 1962.

always sad to hear about dads getting killed.


To have seen a spectre isn't everything. And there are death masks
piled high, one atop the other, clear to heaven. Commoner still are
the wan visages of those returning from the shadowy valley. This
means little to those who have not lifted the veil.
-- Neal Cassady

image courtesy of

I lied...
One mo' DEVIL MAKE A THIRD fo' duh roeyid!

(page 256- First Edition)

Buck thought it was quiet until he spoke.

"I reckon I died a little, too," he said, and then the quick little grass birds stopped bickering in the vacant lots. Buck stood very still, missing the sounds, and waiting with his ear cocked, while his eyes ran the darker slant of shadow cast by a telephone pole, so new that the sour smell of fresh-cut timber still hung in the air.

Then, suddenly, a rain crow begged up into the night and the birds started again, clicking their pointed wings against the dead stalks of high weeds. Abruptly, Buck began to walk, trying to hurry, but hating to reach home where there were people and loud voices, or worse, maybe voices that knew how he felt and hushed when he came near. He began to think, again.

"Got to be a reason," he thought, "for Tobe to die- not just to die like a man would die in bed-
but to die like Tobe, with his throat cut trying to save me.
Couldn't be just to get rid of Tobe. Or the Killebrew boys. It'd be easier some other way-better all the way round to let them die in their beds-
unless there's a reason outside of them just dying.
So that leaves me. The whole thing hinged on me. They came for me. Tobe came to help me.
Then they killed Tobe and he killed them. It started with me and it ended with me.
Maybe it was just to make me die an inch or two. But that'd be mighty wasteful. It would be better business to let me die all over instead of killing three men to whittle me down a little bit."

Buck stopped walking without meaning to, hardly knowing that he leaned his shoulder against the bole of a sycamore, and stood there a moment, pressing hard against the big silvery scales of bark. His mind picked at the thought.

"Maybe it wouldn't be wasted, or wasn't supposed to be, anyhow. Maybe it was done to make me do better, or different. But, if it was, what have I done wrong?

Now, how in the world can I just tell myself to change?
I'm like I was made and it don't seem right for me to set about remaking a man, even if it is me.
And how would I start?
Godamighty, it's just like I furnished a farmer- gave him land to work, seed to plant, and mules and tools. He'd do the best he could, I reckon. Looks like I got furnished with whatever I am, and it's up to me to do the best I can with what I got. I don't go behind and look up a farmer tryin' to furnish him with some more. After I've set him up, the rest is up to him."

Slowly, Buck started walking again, unconsciously holding his hands out far from his sides,
still feeling somehow the stickiness that he had washed off after holding Tobe. He didn't say anything out loud, but he mumbled as he walked, looking down at the ground.

He was facing his home, looking into the lighted hall from the front yard, when his mind fastened solidly on a new thought.

"If God had figured for a man to know what God was doing, He'd have made it that way.
I reckon He's able to do it, but He don't.
He just sticks them here, looks like, and tell them to work it out the best they can.
So that's what I'll do.
I'll go along, using what tools He gave me the best I know how, and if I manage better'n some, or worse'n some, it'll be my own crop.
Hell, I ain't a man to change."

He went up the steps then, slowly, still holding his hands out by his sides, but feeling in his legs as if he wanted to push his knees to help.
Out loud he said,"I talk like a damned circuit rider."

Jeanie Bannon was at the door when he opened it. She was just standing there waiting, fumbling with the curtains that hung over the glass panels on either side of the doorway.

Buck stopped before he closed the door behind him and tried to look at her eyes.
There was too much pity in them. He shook his head and looked down at her hands on the curtain, and didn't say anything.

She cleared her throat and looked away, too.

"I got all the young'uns to bed early," she said, " so they wouldn't-"

Buck shook his head.

"No use," he said, "it'll come sooner or later. Questions and no answers."

She looked at him, then, biting her lip, and started to say something.
She stopped and sighed, then her jaw set slightly.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, defensively.
"An' besides, Tobe wanted to do it. He'd rather have died that way."

Buck's head came slowly up and he stared at his mother's eyes for a second.
He seemed to be trying to find something in them.
Then, as he were puzzled, his head dropped back down, shaking from side to side.
There was a bitter look about his mouth as he spoke.

"Maybe," he said, " but it puts too big a burden on the man that's left alive."


The two mules ahead of them looked as if they were walking up a long slim blade of moon, the light was so nearly the color of the dust on the Clayhatchie road. Jake and Bass had ridden in almost total silence until the little gleams that meant Aven were hidden behind them by a rim of the shallow dimple in the land where the town was built. Dimly, far ahead of them a small light blinked once, then was lost to view again behind the bole of a large tree.

"That's the house up ahead," Jake said in a low voice.

"I wish-" Bass started whispering fiercely, then broke off and spoke again in a louder tone," I wish to the Lord, Buck was the kind of man you could either hate all the time or like all the time."

"I'll shore go with you on that," Jake said, fervently," You an' me both know who burnt that preacher out, an' I could a'stomped him a dozen times for that, then here he goes an'-"

"Damn that preacher," Bass interrupted. " I'd ruther need a preacher than have that'n."

Jake shook his head.

"Ought not to burn anybody out," he said, firmly, then his face twisted up, puzzled.
"How he can do that, then turn around an' send this stuff back, durned if I can figure."

"I can't understand 'im." Bass shook his head. "That junk in the wagon bed ain't worth no more'n the cost o' sendin' it back."

Jake laid the reins over in Bass's lap and started fumbling in his pocket.
"All I know is, he sent me down to foreclose this afternoon."
He scrubbed his palm over the ragged edge of a plug of tobacco.
"Then, when I come back with the stuff, I just chanced to mention how the old man had died a couple of days ago."
He bit off a small chew and rolled it with his tongue until it was comfortable, then held the plug out to Bass.
"He cussed me for a widow robber," he went on, somehow proudly, "an' mand me load it again an' start right back."

Bass bit off the plug of tobacco.

"Well, sir," he said," you cain't never tell about Buck. I didn't figure he'd ever get over Tobe Parody gettin' killed. Looked like for a long time it's softened him, an' I guess maybe it has in the long run."

"Hell, he's always been soft 'bout women an' kids, but God help anybody like us."

Bass frowned and shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, thoughtfully, "wasn't long after them Killibrews got Tobe that Buck drifted up to the yards an' got to talkin' to me. He knowed close to the day when I'd retire from the road an' he come out an' offered to set me up in some little cafe' or somethin'."
He wiped his mouth.
"Durndest thing."

Monday, May 28, 2007

Hey y'all:

If ya get a chance go out to the University and see the three digs occurring on campus right now. Two are going on in the parking lot behind Gorgas Library and one is going on between the Science Library & the Biology building.

The rilly neat one is northeast of Gorgas Library towards Smith Hall. They've uncovered a cellar filled with all sorts of crap the Yankees burned in April of 1865. Walk down the steps of the cellar.
It will raise the hair on the back of your neck.

Too kewl for skwrewl!!!!


You'll appreciate this. I was inspired to write that blog yesterday by Jimi Hendrix. Rusty Crumpton & Bobby Dupree from Montgomery are my only friends who actually got to sit down and rap with Hendrix but a couple of my Tuscaloosa friends got to meet him after he played here in May of '69 but he was distracted by the groupies so he didn't have much to say.

Anywayzzzzzzzzzz, because of Rusty & Bobby, I kinda feel like I know a little about Jimi. This is the clip that inspired me

& here's Dupree & Crumpton's story about meeting Hendrix:

Subject:The Jimi Hendrix EXPERIENCE!

You can read the story of the metamorphosis of The Rockin’ Gibraltars into Heart, the band, in the Greg Haynes book “The Hey Baby Days of Beach Music”. We, the Rockin’ Gibraltars (Sonny Grier, Rusty Crumpton, Ed Sanford, Keith Brewer, and Bobby Dupree) had landed a recording contract with Warner/Reprise Record Company. Sonny was married and his wife was expecting a baby, so he decided not to go to LA, which is what prompted us to get Johnny Townsend in the band. After writing a few songs, recording them at Fame Studios in Muscle Shoals, adding Johnny Townsend, and changing our name to Heart we moved to 12221 Ventura Boulevard, Studio City California. After arriving in LA, our manager Bob Hinkle took us to Warner Brothers to meet Mo Osten, Executive Vice President of Warner/Reprise Records, and the staff members who would be involved with our recordings and promotions. Warner’s and Mo Osten had assigned Russ Shaw as our promotion agent and we met Russ that first day. Russ was obviously a talented promotion man, because Warner’s had also assigned to him Jimi Hendrix. Of course by that time in June of 1968 Jimi was a huge star, and had already released his first two albums Are You Experienced? and Axis: Bold As Love. That summer of 1968, Russ called us and told us to get dressed, that we were going up to meet Jimi Hendrix. Russ was gearing us up to be the opening act for Jimi’s new tour. We drove up to a palatial home in Benedict Canyon above Hollywood, and after getting cleared at the gate, went inside. We stood there in the living room looking around and on the wall was a group promo picture signed by the Beatles. It was the very recognizable picture with them in the gray collarless jackets, Paul with a cigarette in his hand. We found out that the house belonged to the guy that owned Cadillac Steel, and that he leased the house to many of the stars when they were in town. Pretty soon Jimi came out, dressed in a red bathrobe and looking pretty sleepy. Jimi was a very calm, laid back guy, very normal considering his stardom. I felt really calm around him, although the earlier anticipation of meeting him had initially made me a little nervous. After all of the introductions and shaking hands, he asked “Where you guys from?” Then, very quickly, he said “No, let me guess. Just talk a little.” So we chatted a bit and he said “You’re from Alabama.” Well, we couldn’t believe he knew, and all anxiously answered, “Yeah, how’d you know?” He said, “Just keep on talking.” So we chatted some more and he said, “You’re from Montgomery, right?” Well that was almost spooky, and someone said “How did you know that?” He started telling us that he’d been stationed at Ft. Benning, Georgia when he was in the Army and used to come up to Montgomery and jam with B.B. King at the Lakos and Elks Clubs, two very popular black clubs in Montgomery. He went on to say that South Alabamians had a completely different accent than North Alabamians. We didn’t even know that! So we sat there talking and he reached over and grabbed an acoustic guitar. He said “I bet you’ve never seen this.” He turned the guitar over and showed us where he’d broken the guitar body right behind the neck, so that when he put the guitar in his lap, like playing a dobro, he could push down on the top of the body and the whole neck would de-tune. He asked if anyone had a lighter, and I had this old Zippo, so I gave it to him. He started playing some slide blues that had the most incredible sound, nothing like I’d ever heard. There was the slide sound, but then he would push down the body and the whole thing would de-tune, producing a very dark, bluesy sound that is beyond description.
Rusty remembers, “Also, I think a few days before, I heard a few songs on the radio from his new album, Electric Ladyland. I think he was there for his west coast tour to promote the new album. The only conversation I took part in & remember was about All Along the Watchtower (a B. Dylan song). I told him it was a masterpiece, so many different guitar styles in one song...he said, “Thanks man, it wasn't easy.” It is still one of my most favorite guitar songs of all time.”
We just hung around for a while, and met some of his roadies. They were all English cats, and they were consuming mass quantities of tallboys, cans of beer. We had a beer and then left.
On the 18th and 19th of October, 1968, Cream played at the Forum in LA in what was billed as the Wheels of Fire Tour, but also was known as their Farewell Tour. Keith and I were sitting at the house in Studio City and Russ Shaw showed up at the door. He asked where the other guys were, and we told him that Rusty and Ed had dates, and Townsend was shacked up in his room with his girlfriend Lisa. He said to get dressed quick; we were going to a party. We hurried up and jumped in his car and took off toward the canyons. We arrived at Jimi’s house, and after being cleared at the gate we went in. Jimi was throwing a party for Cream’s Farewell Concert, and we were lucky to have been invited. We went in and there were lots of folks, some eating the finger food, some with drinks. As I stood there I saw Ginger Baker and Jack Bruce. Jack was playing this M or L model Hammond organ, and Ginger was nervously knocking things off the tables. Keith remembers, “Ginger still had a couple of teeth in his head and he looked a little unstable, but I think that was his normal appearance.” Keith and I just mingled as much as we could, but didn’t really fit in that crowd. There was a room off the living room downstairs that had a pool table, so we wandered down there. Keith started playing pool with this skinny guy and I sat down on the fireplace hearth, my elbows on my knees. I was looking down and saw two legs walk up, wearing high top black Converse All-stars and tuxedo pants. I looked up and it was George Harrison. I just about went into shock! As he walked by, I got up and watched him go outside and climb up on a large rock waterfall that connected to the swimming pool. He sat up there and just gazed at the stars.
After a couple of hours Russ brought us back to the house. Keith remembers, “Right before we left the party, some guy came downstairs where me and this guy were playing pool and said, ‘Hey Jeff, let’s go. We’re all going somewhere to jam.’ It was only then that I realized I’d been shooting pool with Jeff Beck.”
A day or so after this night, we were rehearsing a new song, and Townsend, in his condescending manner, started harassing Rusty about the part he was playing. Rusty said,”I’m gonna go up stairs and work on this for a while.” Townsend said, “You’re such a mama’s boy, why don’t you just go back home and work on it.” Now, Rusty Crumpton is probably the most easy going, emotionally steady, laid back guys I’ve ever known. In all the years I’d known Rusty, traveling on the roads in the South and playing all those gigs, and even enduring some pretty harrowing situations rumbling with the local rednecks, I had never known Rusty to loose it. But that night he did! Rusty wasn’t a very big guy when the band started, and after being out in LA where we were practically starving to death, Rusty was even smaller. When Townsend made that “Mama’s boy” crack, Rusty totally lost it. He went in the kitchen, which was close to our practice room and got a steak knife, and came back into where we were practicing, and lunged at Townsend. Lucky for Townsend that Kim Payne, our road manager, was close by and grabbed Rusty before he inserted that knife in a vital part of Johnny’s body. Kim said, “Rooster you can’t kill him,” and Rusty, struggling, said, “I’m not gonna kill him, I’m just gonna cut him a little.” Man what a scene! The ironic thing is that Townsend had said that sort of passive/aggressive thing to everyone in the band, condescending snipes and insults that were sort of jabs below the belt, and we all had probably thought of doing the same thing to him that Rusty had just been stopped from doing. Shortly after this night Rusty went back home to Alabama. Rusty had been accepted to attend college at the University of Alabama and he figured that since we were starving, not playing much-at least not enough to validate staying out there, weren’t recording as much as signed artists of Warner Brothers should be, and playing music that was so far from what our roots in music had led us to be playing, he’d just go on back to Alabama. As Keith tells it, “We had a great band, when Sonny played in it, and we played nothing but R&B and Soul music. Now, Townsend was writing all that crap he thought was gospel music, like ‘The Train’ and ‘Someone Somewhere’ (two of Johnny’s originals that were what I call milk toast music). We’d lost our basic sound and the heart of our music was gone.”
Johnny had been planning to replace Rusty for some time as evidenced by a phone conversation overheard by Keith and Rusty where Johnny was talking Tippy Armstrong into coming out and playing with us, and after Rusty left, Tippy did come out to be our guitar player. Russ Shaw booked us to open up for Jimi at the Bakersfield Civic Center. We played our set and got off stage so Jimi could come on and do his show. I went up to the dressing room to change, and then went back down and stood at the side of the stage. Jimi played a couple of songs, and then started his rendition of “The Stars Spangled Banner”. Not many people know this, but Jimi was very patriotic, he even supported the war in Viet Nam. He was also Airborne certified.
But back to the story.
The manager of the Bakersfield Civic Center was an old WWII veteran, and of course he was very patriotic too. When he heard Jimi playing “The Stars Spangled Banner” the way only Jimi could play it, the guy got so pissed off, that he went back behind the stage and cut off the power. All that was heard was Mitch Mitchell’s drums ringing through the auditorium. Well, Jimi went back behind the curtains and said, “Who turned off the power?” The WWII vet said “I did.” Jimi went over to him and slugged this guy in the face, knocking him off the stage. Of course, all HELL broke loose, and cops and Warner Brothers executives were everywhere. The cops were going to arrest Jimi but after some negotiations, and a $5000.00 check Russ Shaw made out to the guy, the concert was stopped, and Jimi got in his stretch limo with his two white girlfriends and went back to LA.
This is the true EXPERIENCE we had with Jimi Hendrix. We never saw him or played with him again.
Bobby Dupree with Rusty Crumpton and Keith Brewer

Found this while looking for the Hendrix story. Thought you'd like it. The way you find stuff on my blog is google the subject like "jimi hendrix"
& then tag roberto robertoreg
& you'll get everything off my blog plus it'll say something like "more from robertoreg.blogspot" :

The BIG THING I LEARNED from the road was to remember and pay attention to what you dream while you are asleep. I haven't traveled much in the past 17 years, however, before I settled down and started a family, I was on the road for over three years. Before that, I traveled every summer from '72 until '83. I spent a whole lot of time on both coasts of the U.S. & Canada plus seven extended trips to Ecuador with a couple of excursions to Colombia and Peru
When you are in a strange place and a dream wakes you up in the middle of the night, don't go back to sleep. Pull out a notebook and start writing what you experienced. Not only that, if you're somewhere with a radio or television, turn it on and make some coffee. Read what you have written, think about what you have experienced and try to remember what amazed you about the dream and try to relate it to what you know to be familiar.

I have dreamed things that are completely alien to my experiences in this life.

My hypothesis is that the one who dwells within[call it a guardian angel] is like an editor who takes all the experiences and emotions of the conscious world and splices together a videotape[a.k.a. your dream] which mirrors in a bizarre way THE REAL WORLD. This cat who dwells within really does hold all the cards and he/she wants the best for you.
That's the best advice I could give.
In fact, I am going to copy this post and email it to my 18 year old son, Christopher.

DEVIL MAKE A THIRD! (a vivid description of proceedings in Dothan's Municipal Court Room!)

Arbie came on tiptoe in a small dancing kind of crouch, making a singsong noise through his nose. His knife was held low against his side for a thrust. Buck felt out again for room to move on either side, but the clerk and the attorney were frozen in their chairs, hands gripping the desk, half rising and half sitting.

Buck saw Tobe over Arbie's head. He watched Tobe's big hand come out from under his coat with a gun gripped in his fist, then he saw Tobe suddenly shove the gun back into his holster and he knew that Tobe couldn't shoot because of him.He looked back at Arbie. Arbie was coming closer. Buck suddenly put one foot on the desk and pushed up on top of it. Arbie was too close, his lips handing loosely, and Buck jumped, throwing both feet into Arbie's chest. Arbie was flung straight backwards, but he turned like a cat to land on all fours. Buck struck the floor flat on his back. Then he turned over slowly and saw Arbie scrambling from the floor, but he couldn't move of breathe. He saw Tobe again, coming in three long strides from the side of the room. Tobe kicked Jonus Killebrew in the face as he passed. Jonus fell backwards from a sitting position, and Tobe grabbed Arbie by the shoulder from behind. He swung Arbie around, with his left hand, his right drawn back. Arbie jerked as he turned, ducking into a low crouch and his right hand stabbed forward, towards Tobe's stomach. Tobe bent over slightly, quickly, as Arbie's knife came away, and his left arm grabbed his stomach. He pushed Arbie off with his right hand, then he backed away, reaching under his coat, still holding his stomach with his left hand. He backed slowly and Arbie followed close. Blood welled from between Tobe's fingers. His right hand came out from under his coat with a heavy short-barreled gun, and he braced it against his hip. He was turning to bring Arbie into line, when Buck dimly saw Jonus get up off the floor.

Buck fought the weaknesses in his legs, trying to get up, and tried to yell to Tobe, but he couldn't draw breath into his lungs. He was all fours, gasping, and white in the face, when Jonus took a short stop towards Tobe's back.

Jonus reached over Tobe's shoulder with his knife blade choked by his thumb and hooked it across Tobe's throat. He jerked it fast, and blood spurted from a long curving slash. Tobe fell backwards, still holding his gun against his hipbone.

Buck shook his head again hard. He slowly pushed himself onto his knees, and was struggling to get to his feet as the Killebrews started towards him, one on each side, with their faces working. He stood up, finally, weaving and bent over and started towards him. He saw Tobe between and behind the Killebrews.

Tobe rose slowly on his left elbow and blood spurted faster, pouring down his chest. He raised his gun slowly, not bracing it this time, and he shot Jonus between the shoulder blades. Carefully, then, as the heavy slug knocked Jonus face forwards at Buck's feet,
Tobe sighted at Arbie. Arbie turned quickly as Jonus fell & Tobe shot him high in the chest. Arbie twisted, falling into a small knot of a body with his knees curling up towards his chest. Tobe held himself up for a moment longer. He shot twice more into the shapeless bundle of Arbie, then straining to hold his sights in line, he emptied his gun into Jonus' body. Slowly, as if he hated to let go of something, Tobe fell backwards. The hammer of his gun clicked three more times on empty chambers.

Buck stumbled forward, holding his arm across his chest low down, and he fell on his hands and knees by Tobe. He caught him by the shoulders and tried to pull him upright, but his hands slipped in the blood and Tobe slid back down. Buck saw the gaping slash in Tobe's throat and automatically pushed the heel of his palm into the cut. He held his hand hard against it, pressing down against the collarbone, and fought for his breath.

Then he heard the crowd again, high-pitched voices, and feet shuffling, then stopping, and shuffling again slowly towards him. He looked up and focused his eyes, shaking his head, and suddenly he could breathe again. And talk.

"Get a doctor," he croaked, trying to yell. "Goddammit, do you think a man can bleed forever?"

His head dropped back down and he knelt there, waiting, with his eyes blurring on Tobe's white face, and his hand sliding in the cut in Tobe's throat, trying to hold back the gush of blood. He tried to breathe slowly, evenly, watching for movement in Tobe's face. Gradually, his eyes cleared, and he saw the lips move, mouthing, but not making any sound, then he saw a tiny crack of white and Tobe's eyes were opening into slits. Buck bent lower, turning his head sideways to listen, watching out of the corners of his eyes for movement of the lips.

They moved and he couldn't hear. He came closer and didn't try to listen, he watched, and he saw Tobe's eyes slowly open wider. The the lips again. They struggled to shape a word.

"Money," they formed, and then again, "money."

Buck nodded. "Money," he said, out loud.

The lips moved again, working slowly.

"Ever' month," they said. "'Send-"

Buck bent closer, quickly, and put his mouth close to Tobe's ear.

"I know," he said. "I know. I'll send it ever' month, same place."

The lips closed then, loosely, and the breath that came through them fought out in quick gasps. Buck saw Tobe's eyes beginning to close.

"Ever' month till you're well again," he said, softly.