As screwed up as it may seem for a profession, the music business has its redeeming qualities. For one, musicians are generally colorblind when it comes to issues of race, religion, or sexual orientation.  In September of 1977, about the same time Carlton was playing his last  week with the Desperados, Queer Denny's was the place to go after the gig! You could find anyone and everyone in the local music scene there on the weekends after the clubs closed.  Queer Denny's was actually just a regular Denny's restaurant, located on Ft. Worth's East Side, just off Forest Park and I-30.  It became affectionately known as "Queer" Denny's because it was also the late night hangout for the flamboyant drag queens from Bailey Street Warehouse, a gay club down the street from Denny's. It was a big show every night as they would parade in and make their way to the back private banquet room. The musician crowd would gather in any given area, and that group would grow larger and more esteemed as the hour grew later. The musicians and the gays got along fine. It was a show for us to see them coming in giggling, sobbing, dancing, wrapped in their feather boas and elaborate costumes. They, on the other hand, were likely just as entertained by the sight of us.  

After a while, another group began to mix in at Queer Denny's, but this group wasn't as open minded or accepting as the musicians were concerning the gays.  This group was a hard core country and western faction; redneck cowboys.  Musicians had no beef with cowboys (no pun intended) and many of us had even played, or were still playing in C&W bands.  Progressive Country music was at its peak, and the Whiskey River Club was just around the corner from Queer Denny's too.  The problem with the cowboy group was that they just loved to fight. Musicians don't want to fight because it could damage their fingers and they wouldn't be able to play their instruments. They could also suffer cuts or contusions on their faces that might keep them from getting laid. Musicians were usually laid back.  Cowboys, on the other hand, just loved to stir up trouble and show off to their girlfriends how tough they were.

The cowboys didn't waste much time at all before they began to harass the gay clientele at Queer Denny's.  It was awful to see.  And the cowboys didn't stop there. When they got drunker, they'd pick on musicians too.  And if they got drunk enough, they loved to just fight each other. I sometimes expected to see one eventually beat himself up for the fun of it. Many of the cowboys were very cool, but some could be outright trouble.

A lot of things happened at Queer Denny's. For a while, it was the place where musicians could find out everything that was going on relating to music in the North Texas area.  RJ and I started going because of two waitresses there.  One was named Helen, and I don't recall the other one. The used to come to the Hungry I and listen to us play. One night they invited us to come to Denny's after the gig and they would buy us breakfast. Of course breakfast to a musician is a Jumbo Dennyburger with cheese and extra fries! We took them up on the deal and noticed a lot of other musicians went there after hours too.  Helen and her friend invited us to come back the next night, and the night after that, and for about the next six months, RJ and I ate free at Queer Denny's almost every night!  We didn't know how they were doing it, or if it was a scam or not, nor did we WANT to know. We just became regulars.

 On one particular evening, a whole bunch of musicians were sitting around a huge round table in the middle of Denny's main dining room.  Helen and her friend were off that night and they were sitting next to me and RJ.  Eventually the redneck faction of Whiskey River showed up, complete with their Silver Belly hats and Ostrich skin boots. They always had gorgeous girls with them, and they loved to impress those girls. On this night, one of the guys in the cowboy group only had one arm. He was a grizzly, tough looking dude. They sat just a little ways across from our group. Helen usually had a big mouth on her, but when she was drunk she was very subdued and quiet. She hadn't said a single word all night until she suddenly broke her silence by shouting across the room, "What are you looking at, you one armed ugly son of a bitch?"  She was sitting next to me, and even though we weren't "together" it probably looked that way.  

The one armed man looked over at our table and scanned the group, looking to lock in on his kill.  He said, "Excuse me?"    My Jumbo Dennyburger lodged in my throat as I held my breath, not daring to move.  But she spoke up again.

"I didn't stutter, you F***ing gimp!" she blurted.  

I could tell that cowboy dude was scanning the group again, as a Panther does, looking for the weakest one in the herd - one that he, being one-armed and all - would still be able to beat up.  I had a horrible feeling that was going to be ME!  Cowboy dude stood up and walked toward us. He was at least 6'5", and looked like he should've been in a Hell's Angels jacket instead of the boot scooting garb.  As he strutted the short distance to our table, I couldn't help noticing how he swung his stub, as if there were still an arm attached.  He walked around behind my chair, put his HAND on the back of it, leaned over to Helen and told her that if her boyfriend (me) couldn't control her mouth, he was going to kick my ass.  Helen and I both spoke up at the same time with completely different takes on the situation. Helen was daring him to back up his threat. I was breaking into a Porky Pig cartoon sweat and swearing to almighty Jesus on the cross that not only was I not her boyfriend, but that I'd never SEEN her before! I apologized on behalf of the rest of the table and turned my wrath towards Helen, chewing her out for being rude to the guy. It was a brilliant performance and Cowboy Dude bought it. He accepted the apology, tipped his hat, and returned to his seat. Helen was about to pop off again, but before she could, five sets of hands were covering her mouth. RJ and I didn't eat free at Queer Denny's anymore after that. Not because Helen was pissed, but rather because she and her partner got caught allowing customers to walk checks without paying. Can you imagine the gall of someone doing that? (gulp)  Is that what she'd been doing with us all that time?  Geez! We were pretty naive not to have figured that one out.

Meanwhile back at the Hungry I, Jim Wise poured a drink into his Fender Rhodes piano, and we needed to find one to borrow until his could be repaired. We knew that Danny Cochran had one, so RJ, Jim, and me went to Danny's to see about borrowing it. There was nobody home when we knocked, so we left a note on the door. Danny called later that day to tell us the keyboard had been totaled in a fire the night before. The house was burned on the inside, but we couldn't tell it from the outside when we were there.  Danny was playing drums for Jerry Williams at the time, supposedly working on an album together. Danny was (and still is) incredible on those skins!

Back at Queer Denny's, RJ and I spotted local Elvis impersonator, Johnny Harrah in a booth chowing down on a Jumbo Dennyburger with cheese. That man had good taste! It was cool seeing him up close. He played "old fat" Elvis in one of those movies about Elvis' life. I would find out many years later that Johnny Harrah was married to my next door neighbor's best friend. They were close. Even hung out at each other's houses. I couldn't stop thinking of how cool it would be to go over and order pizza and play poker with Elvis, er Johnny, to see if he ever broke character.

Danny Cochran showed up with his girlfriend at the Hungry I and stayed for the puppet floorshow, then left. Rusty Boden came out and jammed on Carlton's last night. There's something about a band member's last night with the group that almost parallels the mood of a funeral. We'd decided to give Carlton $100 plus his weeks pay. It was a little weird, but at the same time I think he was ready to do other things. RJ and I were on a fast track to destinations unknown. We were putting a lot of pressure on the group, and on ourselves to grow.  Carlton was mostly interested in making some extra money on the side. We were wanting to see how far we could take this puppy!

Carlton's last night with the Desperados came and went. We remained friends and he soon began playing with another band in town. Carlton was a solid drummer. He didn't say much, but when he did it would usually be very funny. We wished him well, helped him pack up his drums, then RJ and I went to Denny's. Band member changes were ugly, and we still didn't know whether to mourn or celebrate. But we agreed we'd done the right thing and looked forward to seeing Carlton down the road, smiling and waving at us in his lovely Pig Skin Jacket.

Home At the Hungry I.