He could never sleep on airplanes; the seats were much
too cramped and his shoulders much too wide.  When he
reached New York, the plane landing at Kennedy, it was
getting toward the shag end of the day and he walked
out of the terminal and along the road until he got
out of the airport area.  Someone-thinking he was
hitchhiking-actually offered him a ride, an almost
unheard of event in the New York City area where that
sort of mistake can get you killed.  Snake kindly
accepted.  It didn't matter much.

The person in the old Volkswagen bus was heading out
the island.

"Makes no difference," said Snake.  "It would be nice
if I could get somewhere near the Long Island
Railroad."

"Going right past a train station.  Ever hear of 
Hauppauge?  Right near there," the driver said.  Both
he and his vehicle looked like something out of a past
generation.  He wore long sideburns and his vehicle
should have, but didn't.

The old box-style bus sputtered now and then, but it
never stopped rolling and they were soon several miles
from the airport.  True to his word, the VW eventually
pulled over to the curb in a small community.

The driver pointed.  "That's the train station right
over there."

Snake thanked him and got out.

He stood until the VW lumbered off.  Then, instead of
walking over to the train platform, he walked down the
track for a mile or so until he found a shed that had
a door open; it was unused and empty except for some
scattered old farm equipment from a Long Island that
almost didn't exist anymore.  He would be out of the
weather in case it snowed or rained.

Although it was barely night, he found an old rag and
swept out a corner.  An old plow shielded him somewhat
from view of anyone venturing by the doorway.

Good enough.

Wrapping himself in his space blanket, he was  soon
fast asleep.  It got a little cool during the night,
the kind of chill that even space technology cannot
whip and he heard the wind howling against the
building, but these things only barely disturbed his
sleep.  He slept until far past dawn.  It was the best
sleep he'd had in several nights.  He awoke refreshed
and full of energy, if a little stiff from the cold.

A bright morning's sunlight invaded through a broken
window and the doorway.  The day was calm and already
pleasant.  But the night's wind had shaken the old
frame structure and rattled out a lot of dust.  He
knew he needed to bath, but he hadn't noticed a YMCA
anywhere in the area yesterday.

He dusted himself off as best he could and folded his
"blanket" back into a neat little packet and placed it
in his jacket pocket.

Then he took a few moments to check his "arsenal." 
There was the blackjack, his major weapon if you
overlooked the small vial; a Buck pocketknife that
made an excellent weapon if you thought of it as such
and used it properly, a couple of cherry bombs left,
his tiny blowgun and six darts, a small packet of itch
powder like children might use for a gag only this was
a special compound made up for him by a chemist, and a
long thin rope of nylon.

He was especially pleased about the rope.  Few would
take it as a weapon.  Once in Cuba he'd been searched
thoroughly by people who knew how to do the job.  They
had overlooked the rope.  He later hung one of the
guards with it, a man who just happened to have been
one of the searchers.  And the same rope  had been
used to trip another onrushing guard when strung
across the doorway at ankle height.  Then, Snake had
used the rope to let himself down the outside wall of
his room to the rocks below and freedom.

He found a diner in the small community and ordered
coffee and one slice of rye toast at the counter.

"Not much of a breakfast," said the waiter.  He took a
serious look at Snake's appearance.  "I can spring for
some eggs and bacon, if that would help you out."

"Nice of you," said Snake.  "I sincerely appreciate
the offer.  But not today.  One should never eat
before a fight."

"You a fighter?"

"That's a good question," said Snake.  "Mind if I
don't answer?  I'm not trying to be discourteous. 
It's just that I don't really know."

The waiter nodded.

"Don't worry, old fellow.  You're win one some of
these days."

"I sure hope you're correct," said Snake.  He glanced
down at his hands and noticed the grime.  "I suppose I
should wash up a bit.  Could I use your restroom?"

"Why not?  As you can see, it's still too early for my
usual customers.  Help yourself.  Back that
direction."

"Thanks," said.

He washed carefully in the small restroom, which was
clean and virtually a palace in comparison to a
restroom he'd used in Enid.  He took off his jacket
and shirt and scrubbed down with a dampened paper
towel, then washed his face in the same manner.

The person who looked back at him from the mirror was
someone else.  The person reflected there needed a
shave, needed a haircut, needed a long vacation.

He wondered if that little hotel still existed on the
island of St. Croix.  Kings Castle?  He could not
quite remember the name.  It had been managed by a
woman named Betty Sperber.  A long time ago-it was
amazing how most of his good memories were from a long
time ago-he'd spent a few days there and had been very
grateful that no one, not even the manager, had
bothered him.  It had been a peaceful vacation; he
longed to go back to something like that.  It was also
strange, he thought, that a long time ago was just
two...maybe three years.  God!

But, of course, there was no going back and there was
no running away from the fight coming up in just a few
hours with Elephant.

He walked out of the restroom and back to his place at
the counter.

I found this under the plate," said the waiter.  He
held up a $20 bill.  "You sure?"

"The coffee was superb and the toast was excellent,"
said Snake.  "And I would be deeply grateful for
another cup of that coffee."

The man poured him another cup of coffee.  Snake
refused a refill.

"I have an appointment in Manhattan at noon," he said.

"I hope you win the next one," the waiter said.

"Me, too," said Snake.

He walked across to the train station.  There seemed
to be a train just about every time you wanted one. 
He bought a ticket and waited and a few minutes later
climbed aboard and found a seat.

In many parts of the world, train rides are sometimes
fascinating.  The trees and the mountains form a
motion picture that grabs the mind and throws memories
astray and dreams into flights of fantasy.

Not so in and near New York City.  All you see are the
ass ends of houses and trash-cluttered backyards, the
decrepit backs of factories and warehouses.  Dull. 
Somewhat embarrassing.  America should have done
better with its trains.

So, he thought about Susman and the Spider Lady and
Elephant.

A lot of things simply were not adding up right. 
Susman only earned a few hundred a week at his two
part-time bookkeeping jobs.  Yet, he'd been able to
buy a condo and was sending his mother $500 a month
"like clockwork."

It was a pity about Sussie.  Somehow, he become
involved in something over his head.  It may have had
something to do with the $17,000 paycheck.  Was it
actually a paycheck, because all he'd noted was an
entry on a deposit ledger?  A paycheck could be traced
maybe.  He'd have to ask Neva to find out about that. 
If and when he ever saw her in person again.  He
certainly couldn't call the room anymore.  That was a
no-no.  The Spider Lady seemed to be able to know
everything he discussed on the phone; she'd found out
about his room in the Towers at the Waldorf-Astoria
without much trouble, hadn't she?

And, because the Spider Lady was tapped into the phone
at the room in some manner, he couldn't even call and
ask where the room was at the moment.  He was
figuratively and literally out of touch.

The Spider Lady.  Now there was an opponent!
Vicious, unrelenting, brilliant.

He had grown rather fond of her.

Oddly, although she had seemed rather plain when he
sat looking across a table at her in the deli the
other day, in his mind she had grown somewhat more
than that.  At first, he assumed she was pretty.  A
curl of hair falling off her face framed it in his
mind and her smile lit up her entire face in that way
that women often have.

Then, at some point later, she had grown even more
attractive.  Voluptuous to some extent.  Her legs were
probably long and graceful.

So, by bits and pieces, she had been extremely
attractive to him.

And, then, there was her mind.  A man, especially, a
man like him, needed a woman who could think, a woman
to whom he could talk down through the years, a woman
who would understand him and be able to relate to him
during his sudden, dark moods.

Mary Sue, alias the Spider Lady, would be a perfect
choice of woman for a person like him.

Of course, there was Susman and Rabbit and Wekser to
think about.

The train terminal was crowded this time of day.  But
it was always crowded.  Since he had time, he stood
and watched.  People didn't as much shove as brush
past anyone in their way.  They kept on the move. 
There was no pattern to the movement.  Because of the
time of day, they moved mostly away from the entrances
to the trains and toward the streets.  Later, the
movement would flow the other direction.

There was a knife shop near Grand Central Terminal. 
He stopped and bought two throwing knives, small,
slender German-made target knives.  These, he tucked
away.

He walked a block or so and then caught a bus going up
town.  He dropped off near the museum and walked over
to the glade in Central Park and sat down at a bench.

Two black kids sat on the spread-out sheets of a
newspaper about 50 yards away.  They didn't seem to
notice him.

Elephant had not arrived yet, evidently, unless he was
hiding in those trees off to the right.  But that
wasn't Elephant's style.  Not Elephant.  Anyway, he
would have been too huge to hide behind any of those
trees, bare from a long, hard winter.

It was a great day in New York City.  One of those
beautiful days that sometimes come before winter is
actually over.  Already, the temperature was in the
40s, probably, and while it wouldn't get any warmer,
it was so pleasant you could make the mistake of
thinking it was already summer.  Only the bare trees
and the lack of green grass and flowers told you
otherwise.

On a far away path, three youths were playfully
shoving at each other.  One tripped and fell.  Another
helped him to his feet, then looked in the direction
where Snake sat on a bench.

The youth waved.

Snake waved back.  He didn't know who it was and, from
this distance, couldn't have recognized him anyway. 
He was just being friendly.

The three youths turned off the pathway and walked in
the direction of the exit to the park.  Just at that
point, a young couple came into the glade, spread a
blanket on the dead brown grass and sat down.

Snake sat there enjoying the sunshine.  He wasn't
overly cautious.  It would have been wasted effort. 
The very fact that he was going to engage in a battle
with Elephant would keep him safe, to some extent,
right up until the fight.

If he won, there would be considerable danger after
the fight, of course.

The three youths returned and sat on some large rocks
under a tree.  They sipped at sodas they'd purchased
somewhere nearby.

Next, thought Snake, popcorn.

The idea amused him.  But he was right.  Slowly, other
people began to gather.  They seemed to recognize him
in some manner or perhaps they took a wild guess. 
None came near him.  He wasn't being shunned or
ignored, just given plenty of distance in case
something happened.  Definitely spectators, not
participants.

On the other hand, two men who came from the other
side of the park had the obvious look of participants.
 They, too, kept their distance.  One leaned against a
tree and pulled out a rolled-up newspaper and started
reading.

Within about 20 minutes, there were almost 50 people
gathered in that area of the park-some near, some far
and a few on a hillock more than 200 yards away-and
they kept coming.

Three of the men standing on the hillock were priests.

A policeman in heavy blue overcoat came by, swinging
the traditional nightstick in a very approved manner. 
He passed right by Snake's bench.

"Good luck today, Snake," he said.

"Good lord!" remarked Snake.  "Did someone send out
telegrams!"

The police officer shrugged.

"Everybody knows.  I've got five dollars on you
myself."

Snake nodded.

"And the odds?"

"I got two to one," said the officer admitted.  "This
Elephant guy, you know, has a bad reputation.  We've
connected him to a lot of killings, robberies, things
like that.  But nothing that would stick.  There were
never any witnesses.  Alive, that is."

"Just a moment," said Snake.  "Those sound like good
odds.  Lay down a five for me, would you?"

Snake dug out his billfold.  Unfortunately, he'd been
spending at a pretty good clip the past few days and
the Spider Lady had stolen his expense money.  His
billfold was empty.

The police officer noticed the empty billfold.

"I'll get a five dollar bill down for you, Snake.  You
can owe me."

"Thanks," said Snake.

The police officer whistled his way off along the
path.  In a few minutes, Snake spotted a dark blue
overcoat on the hillock with the priests.

It was almost noon.  Elephant hadn't arrived.

But the crowd had grown larger.  And there still
people coming into the park, trying to make their
approach as casual as possible.

King, Rudy, and Montague approached in an entirely
different manner:  Just as if they were part of
Snake's entourage.  And Snake supposed they had become
that, more or less.  The three of them were dressed
alike.  Neva had done well; they even wore the Central
Park Goodwill Team tee-shirts.

King handled Snake a brown paper bag.  "Coffee."

Snake opened the bag and took out the Styrofoam cup. 
He thumbed off the lid and got lucky; none spilled.

"I needed some coffee," said Snake.

"Thought as much," said King.

"You guys doing okay?"

"Fine.  How about you?"

"Fine."

King looked at the hillock, at the kids sitting on the
rocks, at the gangsters by the tree.

"Some of us around here are lying and it ain't me,"
said King.

Snake burst out laughing.  Partially because it was
funny, partially because the laughter erupted in spite
of himself.  But it reduced the psychological tension
that had been building in him, crabbing his muscles,
screwing up his thinking processes.

"Thanks, King," he said as soon as he could grab his
breath.

"Least I could do," said King.

"Sure screwed up Elephant's mind," said Rudy.  "Look
over there.  He can't believe you're laughing."

He gestured across the glade.  Elephant had appeared
at last.  Impossible to miss him.  He was more than a
head taller than anyone around him.  At the moment, he
had a puzzled expression on his face.

And he had brought his audience.  There were more than
a dozen people around him, including a few women.  All
of them, with the exception of Elephant, were in a
festival mood.  A bottle was being passed around.  One
of the women carried an ice chest with beer.

"The odds are two to one in his favor," Snake said.

"I got three to one," said Rudy.

"Think I'll sign you up as my bookie," said Snake.

"You scared of him?" asked Montague.

"Sure.  A guy that big?  You'd have to be stupid not
to be somewhat scared of a giant like that."

"You don't look scared," said Rudy.

"Just like with a woman, looks can be deceiving," said
Snake.  "Have any of you guys see the Spider Lady
anywhere?

King searched around the glade.

"Probably not here."

"What a pity," said Snake.  "I was hoping she'd show
up."

"Told you he wasn't scared," said Rudy.  "A man can't
be that interested in a woman and be scared."

"He is one big dude," said Montague.

"His weakness is that he's too big," said Snake.

"That's a weakness?"

"Slows him down.  His size can be used as a weapon
against him.  However, I surmise that his major
problem is that for too many years he has found things
rather easy and most of his victims in a state of
shock just because he's so big.  Most people,
unfortunately equate size with ferocity.  They are not
the same thing."

"That's easy for you to say," said Rudy.  "Try being
my size for a change."

Snake finished the cup of coffee and dropped the cup
into the trash can at the end of the bench.

"You men serve as seconds for me?"

"What does a second do?"

"A second goes over there and talks to Elephant."

"I think I'd rather be your third," said Montague.

"What do we tell him?" asked King.

"Ask him what kind of rules he prefers for fighting
and when he would like begin the dance."

"That all?"

"You might ask him if the Spider Lady is going to come
see us do battle."

Montague wagged his head.  "You are one glutton for
punishment, man!"

The three youths walked across the glade toward
Elephant.  Their walk expressed a certain bravery, but
it was pure bravado.

They stopped in front of Elephant and talked to him.

Snake could not hear what was said.

After a moment, they came back.

"Elephant said no rules except the last one to die
wins.  And he doesn't know any Spider Lady.

"Interesting," said Snake.

"If I'd known about those kind of rules, I would have
asked four to one," said Rudy.

"Me, too," said Snake.

He stood up and began to stretch.

"What else do seconds do?" asked Montague.

"In this particular case, evidently, carry home the
body," said Snake.  He stopped, turned to King. 
"Wekser okay?"

"Very okay," said King.  "Police are helping out."

"That's good," said Snake.

"Nah!  I mean they're minding the store.  Wekser is up
on that hill over yonder with a bunch of holy guys and
a cop."

Snake spent another three minutes stretching.

"What now?" asked King.

"Nothing much for seconds to do for a while," said
Snake.  "Save my seat."

He walked out into the center of the glade and waited
for Elephant to finish a beer.

Elephant drained the bottle and smashed it against the
sidewalk.  He lumbered toward Snake.

"Don't you know better than to litter?" asked Snake. 
"I honestly don't appreciate you messing up my park."

"To hell with your park!" shouted Elephant and swung a
gigantic right fist at Snake's head.

(continued next week)

OLD COWBOYS NEVER DIE
... THEY MERELY END UP
AN ART GENRE!

In California--in Hollywood, as a matter of
fact--there's a firm that specializes in Gene Autry
and Roy Rogers teeshirts, their movies, old photos and
movie posters.  Nostalgia Merchants deals in western
movie memorabilia.  And several bookstores in the area
also have old movie posters and publicity photos of
the cowboy greats for sale.

If you like heroes, as do I, then you'd enjoy
meandering through those places.  I have some really
great memories of movies on a Saturday afternoon;
those same movies were shown in Everytown, U.S.A. We
literally grew up with heroes such as Buck Jones, Tex
Ritter, Johnny Mack Brown, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and
Dale Evans, Eddie Dean, Lash La Rue.  The list is
quite long.  And I think the generation before mine
had their William S. Hart, their Tom Mix and Hoot
Gibson.

Once I got into the music business as one of the
editors of Billboard Magazine, I had the privilege of
meeting most of my western movie heroes--Roy Rogers,
Jimmy Wakely, Gene Autry, Tex Ritter, Eddie Dean, Rex
Allan...all of those that were also singers.  They all
impressed me as being exactly the same heroes they
pretended to be on the silver screen.

Television viewers may have their "Star Trek" and
their "A Team," but somehow it isn't quite the same. 
Psychologically, I could point out that it's
impossible to relate to four or more people the way
you can identify with one sterling character.  And I
think kids today are being deprived because they have
no real heroes to look up to, as I did.

Jimmy Wakely, of course, was one of the all-time
legends of the Saturday afternoon popcorn brigade.  He
appeared in an amazing 68 movies and starred as a
singing cowboy in 28 of them.  The unique thing about
Wakely is that he was also a leading record artist of
the same selling ability as Gene Autry.  The others
really weren't in the same league.

However, he once told me that he didn't think he and
Gene were the best cowboy singers.

"I believe that Bing Crosby is the No. 1 singer of
cowboy songs on records.  No one has written about
this, but I think you'll find it's true.  Gene Autry
is one of my dearest friends; he has sold millions and
millions of records and just a few are songs--like
'Goodbye, Little Darling, Goodbye,' 'South of the
Border,' 'Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer,' 'Here Comes
Santa Claus,' and 'Tears on My Pillow.' Great hits.

"But Bing Crosby had songs like 'El Rancho Grande,'
'The Last Roundup,' 'Silver on the Sage,' 'Boots and
Saddles'--some great cowboy hits.  Out and out western
songs.  Bing sold an amazing amount of cowboy songs on
record.

"The biggest cowboy singer in the world, though? Gene
Autry.  No doubt about it.  I love Roy Rogers, but
he'd be the first to tell you: He never had any really
big hit records.  He was a giant in the movies,, but
he never sold records like Gene.

"As far as the cowboys who sold records, Gene and Tex
Ritter and I were the record sellers.  Eddie Dean
might have made it, but he ran into some hard luck. 
He's a fine singer, we all know this, but luck plays
an important role in success or failure.

"When he recorded 'One Has my Name,' it took off like
gangbusters on a small label in Los Angeles.  I merely
covered the record on Capitol Records and got a smash
nationwide out of it.  Then Eddie wrote and came-out
with 'Hillbilly Heaven.' Same deal.  Tex Ritter
covered him.  You know the answer.  Old Eddie just had
to stand and hold the horses while somebody else rode
away on them.  It's just too bad he was always on a
small label."

Jimmy Wakely had tremendous recall on both his records
and his movies.  He was not, of course, the first
singing cowboy of the movies.  He and Gene Autry and
all the others, including the non-singers like Buck
Jones and Tom Mix, owe their careers to Edwin S.
Porter, who produced the first western--noticeably
"The Great Train Robbery"--in 1903.  Max Aronson, who
changed his name to "Bronco Billy" Anderson, was to
become the first cowboy star.

According to Michael Parkinson and Clyde Jeavons in "A
Pictorial History of Westerns," the movie "The Great
Train Robbery" was undoubtedly the first creative film
drama made in America and "coincidentally it happened
also to be a western." They referred to the film as
the "modest beginning of the unique mythology (the
western) building on another (the west itself), and
the first visual evocation of a thrilling and epic
folklore." Then along came such as Tom William S.
Hart, Ken Maynard, Hoot Gibson, and Tim McCoy, not to
mention later Buck Jones, John Wayne, William
"Hopalong Cassidy" Boyd, and many others.

But it was the singing cowboys that always fascinated
me most.

Gene Autry's first big starring film was "Tumbling
Tumbleweeds" in 1935.  Most people believe that it was
this film that launched the musical western.  Some
people will tell you that Ken Maynard was the first
real singing cowboy.  Not so. Gene Autry once confided
to me that the "voice" was actually that of Bob Nolan.

Most of the singing cowboy movies appealed to the
youth, although adults, of course, attended the
movies, too.  And it was Gene Autry who came up with
the "Ten Commandments of the Cowboy" which stressed
fair play and truthfulness.  In other words, the moral
message was there in almost all of the movies; the bad
guy always lost.

Wakely, like most others in music and/or movies, paid
a lot of dues before he got to the top.  Born in
Mineola, AR, he grew up in Rosedale, OK.  His first
radio appearance was on WKY in Oklahoma City in 1937. 
"I remember the date: Oct. 25, 1937. It was my mom's
birthday.  And it was also my first important job."

Wakely's group was a trio called The Bell Boys.  Their
name was obvious; their sponsor of WKY's 7 a.m. show
three times a week was the Bell Clothing Company. 
Their car carried a sign on the door proclaiming this
information.  Wakely said this was a very popular idea
with western groups in 1938.

His trio, after a month  or so, jelled into Johnny
Bond, himself, and Scotty Harrel.

One night on the way back to Oklahoma City after a
show in a high school in some small town (they earned
$15 for the night), "as we approached the main highway
to Oklahoma City, a sudden flash of lightning lit up
the sky and I caught a glimpse of a face that caused
me to stop the car.  I backed the car up to where I
could see a poster with a photo of Gene Autry tacked
to a tree by the road.  It announced that he would be
appearing at the annual Okemah celebration.

'"Instead of turning toward home, I turned right to
Okemah and went to see Bill Slepka, the manager of the
local theater.  I offered Mr. Slepka our trio and
radio broadcast for his theater stage the day of the
parade for $30.  He accepted."

Then, Wakely arranged for the sponsor of his radio
show to pick up the telephone line charges back to the
radio station, providing Gene Autry made a guest
appearance on the show.

"The price of a Gene Autry guest appearance was about
$5,000," Wakely said.  But Wakely, of course, didn't
have that kind of money.  "My price? Nothing."

When-the big parade started the day of the Okemah
celebration, Wakely and Bond and Harrel climbed on top
of an old store building and waited.  They'd backed
Gene Autry a few times when in performed in the
Oklahoma City area.  They hoped he'd recognize them.

"As he approached on his horse, we waved our cowboy
hats.  He spotted us, waved back with his white
Stetson and, with that famous grin, yelled out, 'Come
on over to my hotel'.

That is one time old Champion lost a race, said
Wakely.

He told Gene Autry about his promise to his sponsor. 
Not only did Gene walk to the theater with the trio,
and hundreds followed and packed the movie house, but
he went on stage and sang "South of the Border."

Part of the story gets a little hazy now.  Wakely
wasn't sure-that Gene Autry offered the trio a job on
his radio show "Melody Ranch" or not.

"But he did say that if we got out to Hollywood and
got in the musician's union, he would try to put us on
his show." So, the Bell Boys were soon knocking on his
door in Hollywood.  They auditioned over a
closed-circuit radio wire for CBS and the Wrigley
chewing gum people who sponsored "Melody Ranch."

"But Wrigley and CBS didn't buy us right away.  Gene
had to go on tour.  He said, 'Jim, now don't go away. 
I'll be gone five weeks.  And when I come back, I'm
pretty sure I can put you on.'

"We were broke," said Wakely; he didn't think they'd
be able to hang around until Gene Autry got back.  But
then the trio got a job playing in a movie called "The
Range Busters" that featured Ray Corrigan, John King,
and Max Terhune.  Corrigan and Terhune later teamed up
with a young John Wayne in a series called "The Three
Mesquiteers" that was quite successful.

The movie money "sustained us until Gene got back,"
said Wakely.

"He told us he'd put us on his show for two weeks.  I
stayed with the show until I resigned to go into
movies on my own two years later.  And Johnny Bond
stayed 16 years."

The "Melody Ranch" originated out of Hollywood.  But
the show often traveled.  "We used to originate the
show from wherever Gene was doing a rodeo," said
Wakely.  "That was the greatest fun of my life.  I had
no responsibilities that were stiff.  Gene treated me
like a brother.  I carried his briefcase around.  And
if he wasn't there for rehearsal--this only happened
three times while I was with him--I would stand at his
mike and sing his songs and mark his script for
timing.  Always, on the road, I took his lyrics and
got with the local music director--like Ceasar
Petrillo in Chicago--and go over the show.  I would
say: 'Gene likes to stand here.  He wants Johnny
Bond's guitar to be right there.'

"Starting off, I played cowboy guitar for Gene.  I
have a picture of the first time we ever backed him. 
The second time was when we backed him at Okemah.  I
played up-close guitar, what you'd call the cowboy
guitar.  But I got so involved in other things that
Johnny Bond took it over and he did it so much better
than me anyway that it was fine with me."

Wakely left "Melody Ranch" in April 1942 when he
signed a contract with Universal Pictures to appear
with Johnny Mack Brown and Tex Ritter in a series of
westerns.

"I was fourth in billing.  The pictures always starred
Johnny Mack Brown or someone like in 'Deep in the
Heart of Texas' with Fuzzy Knight or somebody and I
would be next: The Jimmy Wakely Trio.  When Johnny
Bond wasn't on the road, I used him in that trio.  It
was Johnny Bond, me, and Scotty Harrel.  Johnny Bond
was my goodluck charm, a good leaning post for me.  He
stabilized me and kept my feet on the ground."

Then came a long-string of movies where the trio
backed such as Gene Autry, Tex Ritter, Johnny Mack
Brown, William "Hopalong Cassidy" Boyd, Roy Rogers,
Don "Red" Barry, Ray Corrigan, "and I did a lot with
Charles Starrett, the Durango Kid, at Columbia
Pictures.  One day, the producer told me that my fan
mail, as a singer, outrun that of Charlie's.  But that
was only natural.  People wanted singing cowboys
during those days.

"Anyway, that got me a starring contract the next year
at Monogram Studios."

The first picture Wakely starred in was "Song of the
Range" made in October 1940.  And he was not only the
hero, but the singer.

"I wrote many of the songs that I sang.  I like to
write for movies.  Picture songs don't always become
hits, though.  They have to be tailored for the movie.
 They're not really commercial, per se. I used to put
a lot of my hit records into my movies, but they were
already hits."

The first record he recorded? "I cut it at the Decca
studios on Milrose Avenue.  November or December of
1940.  I do remember that 'Too Late' was one of the
songs.  'Cattle Call' was one.  'Maria Elena' was
another.  I'm not sure if 'Cimarron' was on that date
or the next.  But three out of those four were hits. 
We got very lucky.

"Records in those days didn't cross over into the pop
market.  I had a good hit on 'Cattle Call,' but I
doubt if it sold 50,000 copies.  It wasn't until my
second or third record, 'Too Late,' that I got played
well in the jukeboxes.  And, of course, it was covered
by Woody Herman, Horace Heidt, Jimmie Davis, the Light
Crust Doughboys, Gene Autry, and various others.  I
followed that with 'I'll Never Let You Go, Little
Darling,' which Gene Autry also covered and later
Elvis Presley recorded in 1956."

Wakely wasn't irritated at all that these people
covered  "Too Late" and "I'll Never Let You Go, Little
Darling"; his records/he wrote them and thus benefited
from the royalties.

It wasn't until 1949 that he and Margaret Whiting
teamed up and perhaps contributed vastly to the
shaping of so-called "modern country music."

"I had been toying with the idea of stretching what we
call country music today.  I was angry at being forced
to sit in the back of the bus musically.  So, in the
mid-40s, I picked up the greatest jazz band in the
world--Bob Crosby's Bobcats--and recorded them back of
me.  We called them Eddie Miller and His Hep Doggies. 
We did a couple of tunes.  They didn't sell too good."

But Wakely was always impatient when it came to music.
 "I'm a musician; I love to make arrangements.  And I
love a challenge.  It was this love of a challenge
that caused me to seek out ways and means to move
country music out of the beer joints of America.

"I wanted our records--the records of all of us
artists--respected by the press and therefore the
public.

Now days, of course, a lot of people claim 'first'. 
But in 1950 Billboard Magazine had Jimmy Wakely at the
No. 3 Male Vocalist of the Year.  Perry Como was
first, followed by Frankie Laine, then Wakely,
followed by Bing Crosby.

"The highest I could get in the country music field,"
said Wakely, "and I was amazed that I did so well, was
No. 3.  Eddy Arnold was No. l.  I was very gratified
to be as high as No. 3 in both charts.  Cashbox that
year--and for previous years--had a western chart.  I
was No. 1 in that chart for two or three years in a
row.  There, among the outright cowboys, you know?"

In spite of the disappointing success of the record
backed by the Bobcats, Wakely tried again in 1949 with
the Frank DeVol Orchestra of 28 musicians.  "We
recorded 'Dust' and 'The Touch of God's Hands,' Bob
Nolan's great song.  That one paid off.

But that was actually right on the heels of the first
Whiting and Wakely record called "Slipping Around,"
the biggest record of his career.

His-best-selling "One Has My Name" put him into the
pop music and country music charts in 1948.  "It got
up as high as No. 20 or so on the pop music charts. 
But 'Slipping Around' got to No. 1 on the pop charts. 
Of course, Margaret Whiting deserves a great amount of
the credit.  I picked the music and made the
arrangements of all of the duets we did together, but
without her voice, we'd have been out in left field. 
Especially on a song like 'Wedding Bells' where we
used a lot of slurs.  I'd write a little curlicue for
the slur, which was my vocal style.  She went right
along with it.  By the time we'd done the third
recording session, you'd swear she'd been singing
country music all of her life.  She's a fantastic
vocalist.

"We cut 'Slipping Around' in the Capitol Records
recording studios on Melrose Avenue.  Next door to
Decca.  The KHJ radio and television studios are
located there today.  I also cut 'Beautiful Brown
Eyes' there and 'My Heart Cries for You', which was a
cover of the Guy Mitchell record, but we still did
over 400,000 sales on it; 'Bushel and a Peck.' 'Silver
Bells.'"

Wakely joined Capitol Records almost at its beginning.
 He had been on Decca Records, but they were only
releasing about a record a year.  When Glen Wallich,
the founder of Capitol Records, offered him a
contract, Wakely called Dave Kapp of Decca and said:
"Dave, you told me one day in jest that you wouldn't
hold anybody to a contract but Bing Crosby.  Well,
this is Jimmy Wakely and I want out."  The day the
wire terminating the contract came, Wakely recorded
for Capitol and was on the label seven years.  "During
the Glen Wallich, Lee Gillette, Alan Livingston days,
it was like a family," said Wakely.  "I sponsored the
bowling team and I'd go out and watch them bowl.

"Even though Lee Gillette and I used to have a lot of
battles during the recording sessions, we'd go to a
bar next door after the recording session and get
bombed.  Lee Gillette, of all of the producers I've
ever worked under, he's the greatest.  He did the Nat
King Cole records, too.  He was a genius in the
recording booth.  Lee produced most of my stuff.

He produced 'One Has My Name' and 'I Love You So Much
It Hurts' away from Capitol, then brought the masters
in to them.  I wanted to turn my career around; it had
been just going along.

'And I produced 'Till the End of the World' and had
Janis Paige sing duet with me, though she's not billed
on the record.

"And then I brought in Mary Ford, who was singing in
my band, and she sang the second chorus with me on
'One Has My Name'. This has never been brought out any
place.

"I brought all of these masters into Capitol.

"One Has My Name," of course, went to No. 1 on the
country charts and stayed there until it was pushed
out by "I Love You So Much It Hurts."

His 'Slipping Around" hit was almost not recorded.  It
was a fairly big record by Floyd Tillman.

"And Cliffie Stone, then a local disc jockey in Los
Angeles, made an acetate copy and brought it over to
me.  I took it to Capitol and they turned it down. 
They wouldn't let me do it.

"But I was having lunch one day with Margaret Whiting
and Bob Stabler and we decided we'd like to make a
record together.  Capitol nixed that idea, too."

On a trip to Denver, however, Wakely and Capitol's
distributor in Colorado Cecil Boyd got to talking at
the Brown Palace Hotel.  Boyd thought it was a great
plan and Wakely called Lee Gillette in Hollywood.  Lee
told Wakely that Margaret Whiting hadn't meant what
she'd said; "she'll never record with you."  Wakely
persuaded  Gillette to call her.  Gillette called back
in 10 minutes, said Wakely, and the deal was set.

"Well, I knew he wouldn't buy 'Slipping Around,' so I
said we'd do 'Wedding Bells,' which was then a big hit
with Hank Williams.

"He said: 'That's a good one.  What do you want to put
on the back?'

"I said: 'Slipping Around.'

"'You're crazy,' he said.  'Nobody can sing it because
of the way it jumps around.'

"I said, 'We'll sing it.  I want a merry-go-round
organ.'

"Well, I was obviously bombed, because that's the kind
of thoughts you have in that condition.

"But all I used on the recording was four musicians. 
Buddy Cole played piano and Hammond organ.  Cliffie
Stone played bass.  Eddie Kirk played rhythm guitar. 
Freddie Travares played steel guitar.

"Damned thing took off like a hot.  But it wasn't
'Wedding Bells,' it was 'Slipping Around'."

All this time, of course, Wakely's movie career was
doing well.

He'd got his movie break when a Cisco Kid series went
too far over the projected budget and the movie
studio, Monogram, decided to cut down on the number
they'd planned and fill out the schedule with a
singing star series.  Wakely was the singing star. 
His first film made money.

When he'd performed in the Durrango Kid movies, he'd
the luxury of a seven or eight-day shooting schedule. 
His own movies, however, did not have that kind of
fancy, leisurely pace.

"On my movies, the director started throwing pages of
his script over his shoulder at 4 p.m. on Saturday to
get through quicker.  From the time the cameraman
arrived Monday, we had six days.  I would study my
lines every night for what I was going to do the next
day.  I got to the set at 8 a.m. We would shoot until
5 or 6 p.m. I don't recall ever doing a song live for
a movie.  We would record the songs about a week to 10
days before the movie started in a recording studio,
then lip-synch for the filming.  I used, usually, a
five-piece band.  And they usually worked in the
picture with me."

However, western stars didn't make much money from
movies in those days.  His major income came from
by-products such as comic books, endorsements, etc. 
DC Comics put out a comic book a month on him for
three years.  "And I was dumb; I only saved about four
copies and those things are all valuable collectors
items now."

To make some extra money, he went out on tour with the
movies for two years.  One-day stands at 30 to 40
nights in a row.  And he recalls those days, too, with
utter accuracy.

"Our spotlight was the movie projector, the thing that
goes flicker, flicker in your eyes.  The sweat would
be running off your face.  The movie house would be
filled with children.

"They would run my movie and then, when it ended,
you'd walk out on stage in the same costume you'd worn
in the movie.  And those kids would tear up the seats!

"It was a lot of fun.  I'll always be grateful for
that experience.  Because, when you walked out on
stage it was just you and your guitar.  You'd carry
the microphone in one hand and your guitar in the
other if the theater manager wasn't around to take the
mike out and introduce you.  If not, you went on out
there, set up the mike, put the guitar around your
neck and said, 'Howdy."'

He made a guarantee of $100 dollars a day.  But at the
start it was just him and his movie comic sidekick
Molasses White.

"We split the $100 fifty-fifty.

"Then somebody said: 'Why don't you sell pictures and
songbooks?

"I had been standing on stage and throwing a whole
handful of 5x7 photos out into the audience.  There'd
be a mad scramble for the photos.  But somebody said:
'You're being stupid; people want to buy those.'

"So the movie houses started putting them on sale. 
Then the $50 a day became insignificant.  The pictures
and the books was where the money was.

"Then we started playing parks.  And the money came
up.  And I got an agent. And things were different."

One of his endorsements, which last five years, was
Royal Crown Cola.  For a while, he was even a disc
jockey on KNX in Los Angeles.  In later years, he
returned to the disc jockey world with a weekly show
carried around the world by the American Forces Radio
and Television Services stations.

His very popular weekly radio show on CBS network
started in 1953.  It alternated yearly between
Saturday and Sunday nights for six years sponsored by
Bristol Myers.  When it ran on Sunday it was between
Jack Benny's show and "Gunsmoke."

Many of the radio shows of Wakely have an after life,
however.  He retained the rights to all of the shows
and later took the songs that were performed live on
the show, sweetened them in his own recording studio,
and released them as records on his own Shasta Records
label.  Sold almost totally by mail order, they are
collector's items even though there are quite a number
of copies around here and overseas.

Wakely, of course, has passed on to his own "Hillbilly
Heaven."

Afterthought:  I wrote this article on Jimmy Wakely
circa 1983 in Enid, OK, for Tune-In Magazine, then
published by Jonathan Fricke, a monthly tabloid
distributed by country music radio stations to their
audiences.  The article was based on handwritten notes
from an interview I'd done a few years previously with
Jimmy in Los Angeles.  The purpose of the interview
with Jimmy was just for a story about Shasta Records
for Billboard.  But I took copious notes, thus was
able to write the above article years later.  I'd
intended to do a book about singing cowboys.  I never
got around to the book because Johnny Bond died before
I could interview him.  One of my kids played with one
of Bond's kids.  The possibility of the interview was
there.  I failed to do it.  What a pity.  I did Gene
Autry and Bob Nolan on tape.  Treasure those
interviews.

OLD FRIENDS
This is a bit complex.  I heard from Joey Reynolds,
G1boney@aol.com, WOR, New York, who is an old friend. 
On his radio show, Joey has guests and, oddly enough,
these soon become old friends.  Joey heard from Otto
von Ruggins who'd heard from James Lowe who mentioned,
"If you see Joey Reynolds. 2 near misses....  On our
UNDONE tour I was drinking my morning coffee in the UK
and a soprano comes on with orchestra singing 'Rats In
My Room' on the BBC. The DJ was singing along with it
and they apparently use it all the time. It made me
remember back to our meeting with Joey. I think it's a
hit!  Pamela shot a live radio broadcast with our
friend Kelly Le Brock and these movie star types and
Gary Owens was there doing the announcer duties. He
said he and Joey were friends and asked Pamela to take
a photo of him for Joey. He said they attended B.
Mitchell Reed's service together.  Only if you run
into him.  All is well."  So, Joey forwarded the
picture of Gary Owens to me, he wearing what we used
to call a killer mustache and looking well and trim. 
Joey sent the picture of Gary Owens to me because Gary
is an old basketball buddy from my Los Angeles days. 
We used to play every Sunday morning on any basketball
court we could "borrow" or steal.  Once, I recall
shooting baskets with GO in his backyard and his dog
had crapped EVERYWHERE.  If you're also a basketball
nut, you know that didn't stop us.  But it sure felt
great to wash my hands later!  For those of you who're
new to the genre of radio, the song mentioned above
was associated with Joey in his younger, market-shaker
days.  It damned well is not a hit.  It's not the
worse song I ever heard, because that dubious honor
belongs to "Blood on my Saddle" by Tex Ritter, but
it's close.  Just FYI, Larry Shannon,
www.radiodailynews.com, met Joey Reynolds at the
funeral services for Rod Roddy several months ago. 
Small world.

Memory:  Joseph P. Delaney
For more than two dozen years, the late newspaper
columnist, record man, and radio personality Joe
Delaney wrote about show business and quietly taught a
course on hotel entertainment at the University of
Nevada, Las Vegas.

He was a nice guy and usually praised more than
criticized performers in any review.  You could always
land a mention in his entertainment column; you didn't
even have to ask.  His generous nature made him
devoutly loved in Las Vegas entertainment circles. 
Still, few of the people who read his column in the
Las Vegas Sun newspaper or met him on the street or in
the show lounges knew that he founded Coral Records,
that he headed London Records in the United States for
British Decca, that he produced some of the first
stereo albums (released by Audio Fidelity Records). 
These albums, incidentally, featured such as Louis
Armstrong and the Dukes of Dixieland.  Joe also
produced albums by Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald,
Lionel Hampton, Woody Herman, Al Hirt, and Dinah
Washington, among others.

Born in Philadelphia on Jan. 9, 1922, Joe served in
the U.S. Air Force during and after World War II.  He
was with Decca Records (now known as MCA Records)
1946-47, then formed the Coral Records label for
Decca.  After heading up London Records for British
Decca, a different company from the U.S. label, Joe
returned to college, studying law at Tulane Law School
in New Orleans while working on radio and TV in the
city.  He received his law degree in June 1953 and was
still a member of the Louisiana Bar Association at his
death.

During 1953-54, he worked with attorney Lee Eastman,
New York City, known as the Beatles' lawyer.

Joe moved to Las Vegas in 1962.  He and his wife
Roberta had five children.  A daughter is also an
attorney.

In addition to 26 years on radio and television, he
spent 24 years as a Sun newspaper columnist and 17
years teaching a hotel entertainment course at UNLV. 
He produced and sometimes hosted 13 telethons,
including two national telethons for Easter Seals,
plus 20 Nites of Stars for St. Jude's Ranch for
Children and 17 Starlite Parties for Helen J. Stewart
School's Star Auxiliary with stars ranging from Frank
Sinatra on down.

PERSONAL
George Wilson and wife Jackie, Albuquerque, were in
Las Vegas this past week to catch Bobby Vinton's
performance at the Orleans.

Lou Dorren's new audio system will be unveiled after
the first of the year.  Probably in Palo Alto, CA.

Tom Noonan, Tenoonan8@aol.com: "Thanks for the
mention--I forgot one important name, that of HAL
WEBMAN, who just died 10/14 in NY--He was originally a
reporter for Billboard in NY on the music staff, under
Paul Ackerman. He wound up in music publishing after
leaving BB and becoming Editor in Chief of Downbeat
and an A&R man at Decca. He then wound up auditing the
books of record labels for over 70 artists, including
Mitch Miller, Frankie Laine, etc. He was 80 years of
age and his daughter is going to carry on the
business. I learned of his death by talking to Is
Horowitz, another old-time reporter who is still
living in N.Y.   I talked to Seymour Stein today and
Seymour talks to Gerry Wexler all of the time.  Gerry
Wexler is 87 and to undergo an operation soon with
prospects good for his total recovery. Hopefully so. 
 I also forgot to mention that my first wife, June
Hoglund Noonan also worked at Billboard on the
switchboard, along with Grace Fleming, who was the
mother of Jack Lane (not his real name) who became the
Johnny Carson of Australian TV nitetime.  Had a huge
successful TV show in Australia some years ago, but
was American.   You are correct re Barnum--but one
day, I have to tell you of some great promotions that
took place in the record industry--famous, successful
promotions pulled off.   Take good care."

Say hi to Is Horowitz.  Great guy.  Great producer. 
As I recall, he produced one of my heros, Andre
Segovia, most of his career.  I used to catch Segovia
and go back at intermission for his autograph.  At
each concert!  Huge fan.

Just FYI, Salon.com has a great feature on Jerry
Wexler.  One mistake.  The hit that Jerry produced in
the piney woods with Aretha Franklin.  Otherwise, the
article brought back Jerry to me real strong.

Tom, just wish you'd put all that stuff on the web. 
And you're a good writer.

Frank Jolley,  frankjolley@libertypictures.com:
"Claude, I saw your email address on the email I got
from Jimmy Rabbit. I'm Frank Jolley and we know each
other. I used to call you all the time when I was with
Radio Arts and then later Drake  Chenault, hell I have
columns you wrote with my name in them.  Wonder if you
remember the night when I first met you in 1975? I
came up to your room in Las Vegas at the convention. I
was looking for a radio job and you helped me find one
that time and a couple of other times, too. I was at
KNAC in Long Beach and at KKDJ when it was in the
Sunset and Vine tower before Charlie Tuna came along.
Enough about me...are you still a College Professor, I
 remember when you left Billboard and went to upstate
New York to teach college. I also remember that you
used to play basketball on Sunday Mornings and you
invited me to come out. See if you remember any of
this?"

I wrote Frank that I definitely remembered him, but
not 1975.

He came back with: "Claude, you da man! I'm still
around town and have several movies to my credit. I'm
on the membership committee  of the Producers Guild in
Beverly Hills.  We just made 'Rave On' in Lancaster,
PA. Before that I was  Exec Producer on a chick flick
'Elsa Letterseed'.  There's  other stuff too numerous
to mention, but I'm writing a  western to shoot in
2005 and have a horror for a new start up  network and
stuff like that, nothing to write home about but  it
keeps the wolf away. (AS Sam used to say.)  I left
Drake Chenault in 1985 when I was granted a CP to
build a radio station in Eureka, CA. Sam Holman and I
were in contact and he'd just cut some liners for me
when I owned KKDV, Eureka, and KPAK, Redding, CA. I
was so shocked when I called the station in Las Vegas
and his friend told me  that Sam had passed away the
day before. He was only 53.  I'm now  65 and have to
wonder why some of us have lived longer than others. 
Claude, it's great hearing from you and wish you all
the best  please keep in touch. Give my best to the
family."

Ah, Frank...do I have a story for you!

AN INK BLOT
Projective psychological techniques usually allow a
person to express his or her "private world of
meanings, significances, patterns, and feelings,"
according to Lawrence K. Frank, an early psychiatrist
who advocated these techniques.

The so-called "inkblot test" developed by Hermann
Rorschach, a Swiss psychiatrist, is the best known. 
The test includes 10 cards, each featuring a blob. 
Five blobs are in color, five in black and gray.  You
are asked to look at a given blob and tell what it
resembles to you.  On a second run-through, you are
asked to elaborate on your responses and tell the
examiner how you arrived at those conclusions, i.e., 
what particular section or part of the cards caused
you to respond in that particular fashion.

Results are scored according to three main criteria:
-Did you react to the whole blob, to a part, or to a
small part?
-Did your responses involve movement, form, color, or
all three?
-Did you see human or animal figures or, mostly,
inanimate objects?

The scoring is quite complex, involving many factors. 
Seeing whole figures, generally, indicates a high
intelligence and ability to synthesize.  A
predominance of forms in motion, especially human
ones, suggests creativeness and empathy in a person. 
Great response to color means impulsiveness, if not
emotional instability.  Seeing mostly animals-and 
offering unoriginal responses in general-is thought to
indicate lower intelligence and stereotyped thinking.

On the other hand, noting small unusual details
indicates introversion and possible emotional
conflicts.  Noting third-dimensional shading effects
signifies anxiety.  A preponderance of responses
determined by shape or form means good control as well
as harmony between the intellectual and emotional
aspects of personality.

PERSONAL OPINION
On the media, I see Buchenwald shaking hands in an
adoring crowd.  I wonder how much the actors are
getting paid.  For they are being paid, you know.  If
not in greenbacks, in promises.  Deals.  Meanwhile,
the war in Iraq continues.  But we see no dead bodies.
 No dead babies.  They hide these "collateral" victims
as they hide the casket-draped bodies of the American
soldiers dead and returned through Dover.  Whatever
happened to blood?  CNN programs Viagra commerials;
this is acceptable.  Even to the hardcore Baptists
though they refuse the right of women to have an
abortion.  Blood of people killed by America is not
acceptable.  Blood of American soldiers kiled by
"insurgents" is not acceptable.  After all, we do not
wish to offend the sensibilities of the Baptists who
voted for Buchenwald.  Thus the war is treated not as
a war, per se, but as a Saturday afternoon football
game.  The dead at Dover do not count.  No visible
blood.

Meanwhile, CNN Headline News (which is missnamed
because it's a promotion channel rather than a news
channel and any headlines accidentally presented are
trivial as a rule), instead, programs something about
teaching women how to drive.  As if they can't drive
very well because they are women.

On the Internet, I note that 500 people in Seattle
protested the Iraq war as well as the reelection of
Buchenwald.  This, I do not see on TV.  And word on
the Internet is that one county mostly Democratic
voted for Buchenwald.  I did not see this on TV. 
Where in the hell is Dan Rather when you need him?

Four thousand shoulder-fired missiles are missing in
Iraq; I do not see this on TV.  The empty missile
bunker in not discussed anymore.  The soldier who had
served a tour in Iraq and survived and then refused to
return is not discussed anymore; he has simple
vanished.  All media appears to be under control; we
are told what someone wishes us to know and nothing
else.  Thus, the "news" actually becomes naught but
propaganda.  Nothing real.