Tornadoes and Falling Babies

A big thanks to those who have donated to the AAW Fund Raiser.

Thanks to Donelle C. for donating a couple of DBT D.C. tickets to the cause and to Mark G. for purchasing those tickets.

Thanks to Dallas Hudgens, author of two kick ass books that you should definitely give a read: Drive Like Hell and Season of Gene. Check out Wes Freed interviewing Dallas over at Largehearted Boy.

Thanks to Big Slacker Shirts. Go check out their very fine online store.

Thanks to Mrs. B-way, Don R., Ellie C., and the previously mentioned Chris C., Kim M., and Dapper Dave.

AAW Fund Raiser.

Read all about it here.

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Let's begin today with a combination of two DBT songs. I present to you Plastic Flowers and Tornadoes... fo' real. No, seriously, fo' real, fo' real:



Trippy, huh?

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Occasionaly, SNL finds a needle in a hay stack. It's funny because it is true. Ok, it's not really funny, but it is sadly true.

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Drop the baby. Don't drop the baby.... OK, drop the baby.

I could watch this all day long:

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Sometimes I wish I had a brother just for the comedy:

Mother's Day

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DBT Lyrics Tour - Metropolitan Buttholeville or.....

... On My Way Home....

UPDATE: Steve Richerson (Trash) has put up some footage of the DBT show on Thanksgiving on Youtube. Check it out:



UPDATE AGAIN: Damn, we got all kinds of good stuff coming this Saturday. Here's the "Aftermath USA" video I reference in the Cooley's Birthday post. Looks like it just went up on Youtube:



Welcome to Metropolitan Buttholeville....

Where we fry our turkeys and taste our food before we salt and pepper it...

(actually we salt the piss out of it before we taste it. We just know and we don't need our damn-fool taste buds tellin' us otherwise. It needs salt. Period. End of discussion).....

Where the women start sassing you at age 6. (couldn't resist putting my little neice in the tour. Obviously, she's got a lot of her uncle in her)....

... And when those southern women ask you to play some Dylan, by god, you better play some Dylan.

Where Cooley might not have a need for brand new set of golf clubs... but you just might if you come visit 'cause we've got some mighty fine golf courses and some of the best hustlers in the world.

The following is a hole on the "School Master" course that's part of the Robert Trent Jones golf trail in Alabama. It is named after President Woodrow Wilson whose nickname was the "Schoolmaster" because he was once a teacher. Wilson Damn is also named after President Wilson.

It is located in Colbert County along the bluffs of the Tennessee River. There are two courses and both are amazing. I'm sure a PGA tournament is bound for these courses sometime in the future.

Our hometown PGA Tour member is Stewart Cink. I grew up playing golf with Stewart at Florence Country Club.

Where the woods in Alabama don't see no light.... well, in the fall and winter they see light and plenty of color..... and I'm sure the occassional moonshine still even to this day. The following pictures were taken on a walk-about on my buddy's land in Colbert County:

Where the Tennessee River coughs up the occassional dead body... but mainly supplies the region with much beauty and expensive lake front property. Doctors, lawyers and musicians.....

Where a world famous architect built a home for a family.

Below is a home in the neighborhood I grew up in which has recently been turned into a historical museum. This home was built by Frank Lloyed Wright for the Rosenbaum Family back in 1939. I remember being a wee lad and playing with a granddaughter of the Rosenbaums in this house.

The style is called Usonian and only 26 of these type of homes were built in the U.S. This is the only Frank Lloyed Wright structure in Alabama.

Drive-by Picture Taking

Let's take a trip out of Buttholeville proper to visit some good friends. First we'll cross O'Neil Bridge heading south.

The following picture was taken as we're driving over O'Neil. You can see the old railroad track, the new bridge and behind that Wilson Damn.

They converted the old railroad bridge into part of a walking trail that cuts through what was once called South Florence on the Colbert County side of the river. You can still find old curbsides and roads that were created for what was to be South Florence. The reason for South Florence was that Henry Ford came to town back in the early 20th century and he almost decided to build his car making factory here. Fortunately, he decided on Detroit.

As soon as you cross O'Neil Bridge and enter Sheffield there stands what was once Club XIII. Club XIII was the largest club in the Shoals for several years.

The original, original Club XIII was located just past the Alabama border in Tennessee. My aunt would tell me tales of waking up on the dance floor with the birds chirping in that particular locale.

A generation later.....

I worked as a bar back, bartender, doorman, DJ, contruction, etc. starting at the ripe old age of 19. Essentially, myself and my good friend and roommate at the time, Woodham, ran this joint when it first opened. Mike O'Rear owned the place but was never there as he was a talent agent/music manager and most of his business was in Nashville. Mike is a great man and the last I heard of him he was struggling with cancer (as so many in the Shoals are/were. Fucking Ford Plant/Reynolds Metals/TVA and all the other industries that used this place like a toilet. Again, fuck all of you). I hope he is still alive and well. If anybody has any info on O'Rear drop me an email. I'd like to know.

XIII was the best part of my existence between the ages of 19-22. We had a huge dance floor and in between live band sets we'd play dance music so you could get your grove as well as your rock on. Virgil Kane, Baghdad, Velcro Pygmies, Fabulous Thunderbirds, Atlanta Rhythm Section, shit, about a million other cover and original bands whose names I've already forgotten played there. We even talked O'Rear into booking Kyper for a show. Anyone remember the song 'Tic-tac-toe'?

The fire code was about 450 people but we would consistantly put between 700 and 800 in the place.

Club XIII was the major reason that I was a sophmore in college for a good 3 years. It was also one of the reasons I got out of Buttholeville. I was having too much fun at the club and not much fun anywhere else in town.

After I moved to Birmingham to attend UAB I'd come home on the weekends and work the door or bar or spin records... whatever was needed. By that time O'Rear had changed the main building, seen in the picture below, into a country music joint and the old car wash in the same lot was converted into a Rock Bar named Woodies.

The only time I've ever spent a night in jail occurred with my arrest just to the left of the red awning. Of the several times I should have been arrested and wasn't, this was the one occassion I should have never of been arrested. Luckily the prosecutor saw it the same way when I took those fuckers to court and settled before we even saw the judge.

But all good things come to an end and the bar is now a loan center. *Sigh* You can never go home again.

Where we've got good help down in....

They'll hunt you like a dog.... (These are two of Jenn's mom and stepdad's pooches trying to figure out how to climb down a bluff in Frog Pond, Franklin County, AL)

Where tornadoes are birthed 5 miles north of......

After a nice visit to Franklin County let's head on back across the crick to Buttholeville proper and hook up with.....

Hwy 72....

Where the Great Car Dealer Wars were as much fact as the artistic fiction Patterson presents in a song with the same name..

Below are pictures of Nelda Stephenson's Chevrolet located on Florence Blvd (Hwy 72). This lot use to be named Bobby Mitchell Chevrolet. I don't have direct confirmation from Patterson on this but I do believe Jim Stephens in GCDW may partially represent the tale of Bobby Mitchell. Bobby Mitchell was gunned downed.....

In the door way right in the middle of the picture below.

Bobby and his wife were friends of my family. His wife baby sat me once during an emergency though I have not memories of it. Bobby was rumored to have been dealing drugs on the side. Hell, if you've ever lived in The Shoals chances are you've dealt some drugs... or at least consumed some.

Anyway it wasn't the drugs that did him in. I believe Bobby was killed by a mentally disturbed man.

Now, all the songs written by DBT that reference events that occured in North Alabama aren't 100 percent true. They're based on local lore then a fictional account is built around that base.

Let's take a look a Decoration Day/Boys From Alabama.

There was a back woods, country-ass gang in Lauderdale county called The Dawson Gang. Rumor has it that The Dawson Gang were the ones who put the hit out on Buford Pusser. The Dawson's may also form the basis for The Lawson's in Jason's Decoration Day. I asked all my relatives if there were aware of a feud between the Dawson's and any Hill's or similarly named group. None of my people could recollect such a feud.

It was interesting to see the reaction some of them had to a mention of the Dawsons. My granddaddy on my mom's side had a fisceral reaction and stated that those were the meanest boys he had ever come across. This man served in WWII and at age 82 killed a deer while I was home for Thanksgiving and drug it out of the woods. Badass! Another relative stated that they weren't nothing but petty theives whose reputation was far greater than anything that they could actually pull off.

It would be interesting to trade stories with Jason and Patterson regarding what they've been told about the Dawson's. I'm sure that legend has several version.

If you think DBT cherry picked the best myths out of the Shoals then you be thinkin' wrong. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Florence/The Shoals is one of the most fucked up places in the world. Sometimes it is like living in a Stephen King novel. Southern Gothic doesn't even begin to describe it. There's another good 5 albums of wild ass stories that could be told but DBT is being gracious and leaving those for another band....

Movin' on down Hwy 72......

Where you better not be caught in Kendale with a wealthy man's bucket of paint...

Where the daughters of this fair city....

....are full of soul and lay down kickin' beats....

Shonna and a few of my cousin's high school in Killen.....

Where loneliness might set in on this mean 'ol highway. You just might need a friendly outpost...

Where on your way home from a rock concert you most assurredly will get pulled over in.....

(Seriously, Rogersville cops don't mess around).

... hopefully you aren't sporting a half ounce of weed and a case of Sterling Bigmouths.

Where you can lay in our outdoor spas until your lilly white skin peals....

Where you can sit on your porch and eat yourself an apple... while you enjoy the sunset over the Tennessee River...

DBT Lyrics Tour - Fate Lead Her

Quick note before we start the picture tour: Jayfrombama is participating in Project Alabama's Alabama Adventure Weekend. On May 6, 2006 at FAME Studios Jay be will giving an oral history musical tour that should be outstanding. If you're in the area be sure to check it out!

Here we go....

Welcome to my hometown, Florence, Alabama, aka Buttholeville!

When my "Momma ran off..." my favorite drink when I was depressed was....

and...

'Cause "it's a mean mean cruel world out there" and sometimes a little vodka and milk makes everything just fine.... for a while.

Although, I do enjoy some...

...while I "...listen to the crickets and trains".

And I'd never turn down a...

... to go with my "half ounce of (dirt) weed".

But most of all I love to "tear into....

"...Old No.7 and make love till dawn". That's how "Me and old Jack Daniel's, become the best of friends". Ah, "Whiskey is hard to beat".

If I ever find that special someone and decide to get married I'll head on over to....

Dolly Parton's Great Smoky Mountain family Amusement Park:

"Unique as its namesake Dolly Parton, Dollywood theme park is a one-of-a-kind Smoky Mountain Family Adventure! Spanning 125 acres and nestled in the lush foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, near Gatlinburg, Dollywood is one of the most popular family vacation destinations."

Good goddamn, clean, homespun honeymoonin' fun!

And I'll get hitched by some fella that looks like this:

But as I was sayin' earlier,

"It's a mean mean cruel world out there... So my momma was forced to work one shit job after another. Till finally fate lead her to a place called R&D Trucking in Florence, Alabama.
And they hired my momma to be a truck log auditor".

(I searched high and low for R & D Trucking. Everyone I talked to said it was out on Mars Hill Road. I couldn't find a listing in the Yeller Pages, either. I went and searched around and came across a couple of Trucking Cos. but none of them said R&D. I snapped a couple of photos of A trucking company).

Being that it is such a "mean, mean cruel world" I like to get away from it all sometimes. Taking a drive in the country does wonders. A good ol' country car....

...Whether it be "a 302 Mach One in green...."

...Or a 442, even if they do tend to get airborne...

..makes me want to be "Just like all them other crazy fools with racing in their blood". If I play it right I could be "...the coolest doggone motherscratcher on the silver screen".

"....and BEEEEEE-sides, thems highway miles"

I should have kept it on the highway though.... One time when I was muddin' "The piston rods hurled straight through the engine block dropping oil, gasoline, water, and anti-freeze onto the Alabama red clay below". It was a bitch gettin' that thing towed out.

But it could of been worse. If you get a bit too much whiskey in your gut, and that southern bravado kicks in, and you start "Tear-assing through the back part of town and those deserted country roads" you might end up with an unintended roadside memorial.

Why I knew this fella...."He was almost out of Leighton"...almost.

His greiving family put "Plastic flowers on the highway..." I remember seeing them and "For the next few minutes, I drove a little slower". You've got to be "Careful that you don’t use up your ninth one...".

"Cause I got dead brothers in Lauderdale south" from raising hell in a car...

But, really, "If I died in Colbert County, Would it make the evening news"? Probably not. But don't think "You can throw me in the Colbert County jailhouse" for drivin' fast. I'll probably run away...

Maybe I'll run away to the big city. Maybe Birmingham. (I actually did move away from Florence to Birmingham. Finished up undergraduate there). "No man should ever have to feel He don't belong in Birmingham" but, alas, "It’s no wonder everybodies scared of downtown Birmingham it’s just a little too close to home". At least no churches "...blew up in Birmingham" while I was there.

When I got to the big city I learned more about the folks that define my state. Of course, there was George Wallace who...

".... was for all practical purposes the governor of alabama from 1962 until 1986".

I learned that "Racism is a worldwide problem and it has been since the beginning of recorded history, and it ain't just white and black. But thanks to George Wallace, it's always a little more convenient to play it with a Southern accent".

We're still living him down. Fucker. Thank goodness "...he's in hell, now".

"And Bear Bryant wore a cool lookin' red checkered hat...."

"... and won football games...." When the Bear came to town there would be a parade". I love Bear Bryant.

"Now Ronnie Van Zant wasn't from Alabama..."

.... but, in Ronnie's case, we'll adopt you if you write a pretty song about us. EZB is an example of an Alabama adoption.

Since Birmingham I've moved to bigger cities and bigger states, but I still get home from time to time. And when I do go home I like to reminisce.

Living in the south puts you at risk to encounter some pretty nasty weather. Tornadoes are a part of southern life. When those "...clouds started forming at five o'clock pm..." you better get your ass safe somewhere. Maybe take in a movie at the local theatre.

I saw my first movie at the Shoals Theatre. I was there with my momma watching a movie... it was a cartoon...The Rescuers... the day Elvis Presley died. When we got home my dad and sister were waiting at the door with very somber looks on their faces, hating the fact that they had to break the news to my momma. When they did she started to cry.... hard... and so did I. The rest of the day, Elvis albums played on the stereo. "A homecoming concert, the night the tornadoes hit my hometown" if you will.

Luckily we went to an early show before the weather got bad. 'Cause "The few who braved the weather were sucked out of the auditorium"

I've always been fascinated with storms and tornadoes. I went through a period of my life where I dreamed about tornadoes pretty consistantly. There was never any fear and I was never running away from them, always toward them.

(Tornado on Wheeler Lake)

Back in the late 80's one hit at night. "The funnel clouds touched down five miles north of Russellville" and it ended up tearing through a truck stop/restaurant on 157. Here's a picture of that truck stop/restaurant as it stands today:

When I was home over Thanksgiving I stopped by and talked to Jody. She owns the restaurant. I asked her if she had any pictures of the damage the tornado caused. She had one picture hanging in her office. The glass was stained yellow after years of exposure to cigarettes and grease. It was a bit difficult to get a good picture of that picture. Below is the actual carnage described by Patterson in Tornadoes. You can see the "Pieces of that truck stop, litter up the highway".

The day after the tornado my cousin and I hopped in her car, went and bought a pint of bourbon, and toured the destruction.

"...and as the things came threw, it sounded like a train"

(Train running thru rural Colbert County)

I started my collegiate career at UNA in Florence. After my first year I dropped out for a semester and got me a real job. I spent the next "Six months in a St. Florian foundry, they call it Industrial Park". (Actually, I worked for an industrial painting company contracted to work at Reynold's Metal Company and I guaran-damn-tee you I didn't last 6 months. More like 2 weeks and I hightailed it back to college).

My momma worked at the tech school in Florence. It was called Burrell Slater. She taught something called distributive education, which was essentially learning how to work in retail. Her classroom was set up like a grocery store/clothing store. It was good fun to run around in as a kid. The school also taught automotive repair, welding and "...hospital maintenance and Tech School just to memorize Frigidaire parts".

The most popular activities for high-schoolers in Florence were drinking and parking. There was a great place right near McGee Town to do both. You just had to be careful of those sinkholes when you were out that way:

"Show him the view from McGee Town Hill"

"Bury his body in the old sink hole under cold November sky". They're still lookin' for that ol' Banker Man.

(Sinkhole in Decatur, Alabama)

It's no bullshit. sinkholes can kill. The article below was written last week and it happened in northern California. We've had a ton of rain the past few months.

Hole opens beneath Placer County home, killing man:

"Residents of private Sawmill Road in the Gold Country town of Alta (Placer County) knew that shafts from the old Nary Red Mine snaked near the bellies of their hillside homes. But they never expected this.

After a wet winter, the ground opened up and swallowed a 27-year-old schoolteacher at 9:30 p.m. Friday. He was in the converted garage of his family's home, where he lived with his pregnant wife, authorities said.

She escaped and called for help, but it was too late. State forestry department firefighters found Jason Chellew in a 10-foot-deep sinkhole with no pulse."

Thanks for spending some time with me as I spun some tales and reminsced about my hometown. Thanks to DBT for the soundtrack to my first 20 years on this earth and for the music that will carry me to the grave.

While you're still here can I asked you a little favor. Would you sing along with me? Ready.....

"PETERBILT..."

"....PETERBILT"

Dang, y'all sound good and ready for the Rock Show!