The Dunes Club was a poor man's version of the Copa Cabana; dust laden red velvet curtains and ornamental light fixtures dressed up every booth. The dance floor was spacious, and there were several bars throughout the place. It was the first club we played where you could check your coat at the door. But it was hidden away in an industrial warehouse area so that a lot of people simply didn't know about it. It was the North Texas party-goer's best kept secret in the mid-70's.

The stage at the Dunes Club was huge and commanding. We truly loved playing there. It was run by Bob and Jewel Speights, an elderly couple who were hands ON when it came to operations. Jewel ran the front door and Bob was usually behind one of the bars helping out. 

Many of our family and friends who chose not to brave the dives of Hemphill, or the craziness that went on at the Broken Spoke, finally had a place to come and see us that was relatively safe. The Dunes had a number of very big guys on the payroll who did not tolerate trouble. There were fights from time to time, but they never lasted long.

Our earliest true-blue friends and fans: (seated L to R) -Mary D., Donna H.,
Glenda B., cousin Rita J.,  Roxy D.. (standing L to R) unknown, and Debbie P.

By this time we had a fairly big following for a two bit glorified garage band. These friends / fans were with us through thick and thin. We affectionately referred to them as "Mugs".  We may have been getting all the attention on stage, but without this core of great supporters, we never would've gotten off Hemphill!  Because of the sheer size of the Dunes Club, we were able to build an even bigger fan base! We didn't have a clue that we were doing everything a band needs to do to move up the ladder. It just happened. The Dunes gig was originally supposed to only be a three week stint, but the phones rang off the wall and it quickly turned into a HOUSE BAND situation! Exactly what we were hoping for!

During the Dunes Days, I saw a lot of ex schoolmates, neighbors, relatives and friends in the audience. We only played on weekends, but of course we needed 5 days to recover from the weekly party! Our new band buddies, Beltline, took over at the Broken Spoke, only to find themselves locked out just as we were! On a personal note, it was during our second month at the Dunes that I had to return to the REAL world for a short time; Candy, the dog I'd had since I was a kid, got sick and I ended up having to take her to the vet to be put to sleep.  It was October of 1976 and I was 21 years old. It was the first time I'd had to be a man in my entire life. I had to make the decision to put her down. I don't think anyone ever really knew what kind of profound impact that incident had on my life. I did great until I was halfway home, then I broke down and cried like a baby. Not for long. But I cried. It was sort of a man/child cry.  I never would cry like that again. Often I wished I could, and desperately needed to, but couldn't. That night I wrote a poem for Candy. That's how creative types (assuming I was one to begin with) often deal with things. We write lyrics, then turn them over to the Universe and move on. I do recall one irony of that whole ordeal with Candy. My brothers and I scrounged up $12.50 in change to buy her when she was a puppy. The cost to put her to sleep was exactly that same amount.  

By our third month at the Dunes club, another band named Desperados was spotted playing in town. We were starting to get a little big for our britches and weren't going to let this go on. There was only one DESPERADOS as far as we were concerned, and that was US! Old Bob, the owner of the Dunes, was a no-nonsense kind of guy. He considered us to be a big "find" for his club, and didn't want anyone else taking away from his business. When we told him about the other band with our name, he never flinched. He just grumbled something under his breath about "nipping that in the bud", picked up a phone, then said the following words into the phone:  "Hello, Judge? How's my old fishin' buddy?"  He looked over and winked at us, letting us know everything would be ok.  Of course what we didn't know at the time is that the other Desperados had been using the name for a lot longer than we had, and they were actually much more seasoned musicians. We even went out to the Captain's Den in Bedford to see them play one night, and confronted them personally about the name. They just laughed and told us to contact their lawyer.  Luckily, they were a road band, and were just passing through. We never heard anything about them after that. 

By November '76, we were making our own T-shirts and bumper stickers. They said "Boogie On Down At the Dunes", and "Desperados".  RJ drew up the logo and we had on old guy at an art supply shop on the South Side do the silk screening. I'd been without a car since wrecking my AMC in May after falling asleep at the wheel on North Side Drive.  That totaled car sat out in front of my parent's house for months before I finally got someone to haul it off. I bought an old beat up VW from Mike Mash. TCU contacts us wanting a demo tape.  RJ's step-dad, Roy Stringer, hauled old 55 gallon barrels for a living, and was always needing helpers. He had an old Beverly Hillbilly-mobile, and was usually tanked up. It was always interesting working with him, hearing his stories about prison, how he got his finger cut off, and watching him urinate in the floorboard when he was too drunk to pull over. But the work was too taxing on me and not worthy of an up and coming future rock God like myself. So that didn't last long.  I just had to learn to live on $56 a week, from playing weekends at the Dunes. Somehow, I did just that!

The year 1976 was winding down. RJ had been dating a girl named Donna for a few months, and I had a crush on a girl named Kay. The year would not end without a big controversy though.  It was the infamous Pig Skin Coat Mystery at the Dunes. The owner, Bob, trusted us (the band) like family. We were packing the club like nobody had ever done before, and they were raking in money hand over fist. We had a key to the club and were allowed to come in on weeknights and rehearse without anyone else being there.   This worked out great until Bob showed up at a rehearsal one night and accused us of stealing a Pig Skin Coat from the coat room.  I'd never heard of a Pig Skin Coat before, and didn't picture it as something I, or anyone else in a band called Desperados would want to wear.  Of course we didn't take the coat, but for some reason Bob thought we had. He was mad enough to fire us, and we were expecting to lose the gig, but RJ wrote a statement from the band and we all signed it, and sent it to Bob. I read this letter recently and it was a CLASSIC!  We were really naive, but the letter worked. We got to keep the gig, but not for long.  Bob decides to sell the Dunes after New Year's Eve!  Our dream gig was about to come to an end... or was it?

1977 - Desperados Conquer the East Side!