On April 24, 1977 we played the final night of our first week at the Hungry I. We went in knowing it would only be for a week until current bookings were honored, then the plan was that we would come in as the house band. We weren't sure how long that would take, or even if it were true. In the music business you can never believe anything you hear, but we hadn't learned that yet.  So as we played our last song and prepared to tear down our equipment, a guy came up and introduced himself as the owner of a new club on the North Side called "The Rusty Tractor." He'd been looking for a band to draw a crowd for him and liked what he saw. The best part of the deal was that he could put us right to work the following weekend!

The Rusty Tractor was a wild, but fun place. It was in a small strip mall on 28th Street, across form Mt. Olivet Cemetery.  It was a bigger club than the Hungry I, but there was just something about the place that made us miss the intimacy and warmth of the Hungry I. It didn't take long for the lies to start. The owners began talking about backing us for an album. They claimed to have a studio, but we never saw it. It all sounded great but we knew not to expect anything until it is in front of your face.

We were now playing 4 nights a week. On the other three days RJ and I pretty much partied and rested while the other guys worked day gigs. One day, Jim Wise (our keyboard player) and I took the 3 man raft to a little creek we'd found once driving across the Lake Worth Bridge.  It was a beautiful creek that ran behind some apartments, through some woods, and suddenly opened up into a small hidden area that had been created by water runoff from the lake. We were surrounded on three sides by beautiful green cliffs, and one of them had a pipe coming out of it. The water draining from the pipe formed a wonderful miniature waterfall. I'd been running with the one-hitter football (Jim didn't partake in those days) and couldn't believe the sights. Jim was also in disbelief that we'd just happened upon this place.  We just laid back in the raft and looked up at the sky (in opposite ends of the raft of course!) The sound of the waterfall drowned out the drone of distant traffic. It was the most peaceful place I'd ever seen. The sun danced across our proud bar tans, and my eyes closed as I drifted off, almost to sleep. Suddenly there was a horrible loud rumbling sound like nothing either of us had ever heard before! The only thing I could imagine was that an earthquake was ripping open the land just around the corner out of our sight, and we were about to die! The ground was shaking and I could feel my internal organs vibrating inside my rib cage. There was no point in saying anything to Jim because he wouldn't have heard me; the noise was already deafening and getting louder! Then the sky grew darker and darker and we were sorely afraid. That's when we saw the belly of the beast fly over. It was a huge Air Force plane coming in for a landing at Carswell Air Force Base, and we must have been only a few hundred feet from the beginning of the runway! When we sat up we could see the fence and realized what had happened. We both broke out laughing at ourselves. We'd figured out why there weren't more people hanging out in this almost-paradise. Before heading for home, we dubbed the spot "Desperado Falls."

During this period, I was still living at home with my parents. Don't ask me why. They never asked me to leave. They never gave me any grief about the long hair or the hours I kept either. I suppose they had faith that I was smart enough to grow out of the music phase on my own in time. And I did. It would just take another 14 years or so. I painted my room, read Lord of the Rings, and worked on my VW bug. 

RJ and I quickly picked up on the two female bartenders at the Tractor; Cathy and Donna. They were both nice looking and had great personalities. They also had cars and their own homes! Things were looking up! We were like peas in a pod. I was surprised to find out that Donna had a full time day gig working at a marketing firm. She tended bar for fun. She let me use her station wagon during the day and I would pick her up from work. The funny thing is that we barely knew each other and she trusted me with her vehicle. This was all very new to me.

One night at the Rusty Tractor we got a call from Don Hudson. He needed a band to back him up at a place called the Cowtowner Saloon. I think it was over across from Riverside State Bank. We finished up at the Tractor then headed over to do the after hours gig with Don. It was a reunion of the old Royal Kings! We had a blast - until my brother Chris got busted for having beer outside. 

In May of 1977 my brother Ray graduated from High School - and I met Pam Stevens. She came into the Rusty Tractor one night and I spotted her right away. She  had long red hair just like me, and  was friends with Janice from the Dunes Club, an ex girlfriend of mine.

I got a loan from the bank to buy a Peavey PA Amp from Danny Cochran. We were getting worn out from playing so many nights. Finally, everyone in the band lost their voices except for me! I had to sing all the songs! Pam and I had our first date. We went to Six Flags. RJ started dating Janice. Again, like peas in a pod. I was deep in the middle of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Plums were in season at my parents house. All was good.

Finally in mid May, the call that we'd been waiting for came in. Sue wanted us to come to work as the house band at the Hungry I Club! The owners at the Rusty Tractor upped our pay in hopes of keeping us, but we knew all along that the Hungry I would be our next move. None of us could explain it. The Hungry I was smaller, it would mean a pay cut, and we'd be working 5 or 6 nights a week instead of 4. But the "I" just felt right. It was our destiny. As silly as that sounds now, that was how it felt. They wanted to give us a home, and we were ready to move in!

With our name officially on the marquee, we became the house band at the Hungry I Club on June 13th, 1977.  The deal called for a three month run, playing 5 nights a week, at $150 a man per week. Three months sounded just fine to us. It would give us a chance to work on some new material and try to grow as musicians. We had absolutely no idea that three months would only be the tip of the iceberg!  Nor did we have any idea that our first band member change would happen before October...

The Beat of a Different Drummer